Chapter 7
Chapter Seven
Deacon
It was Dove Lachlan who had first taught me that a group of tigers was called an ambush—an anecdote she probably wouldn’t appreciate right now, judging by the look on her face.
An ambush attack was not my ideal way of reuniting with Dove, but I had to admit her shocked expression was still satisfying. She was not an easy person to startle. I’d once seen a cheetah charge her and she’d managed to keep her face looking like she was waiting in line at the DMV. But today, I saw the sudden flare of panic in Dove's eyes before she quickly schooled her expression back to her normal bored and slightly grumpy visage.
Dove’s piercing stare slid from me to Cody, who stood leaning against the wall behind me. Judging from her tightening expression, I was certain he had a scathing look on his face that rivaled Dove’s own.
Careful, Cody , I thought to myself. There’s not a powerhouse lawyer or studio executive in the world that could rival this woman’s intimidation techniques.
That wasn’t the only thought that flashed through my mind when I saw her, though. An unexpected one popped to the forefront: I hadn’t thought it was possible for her to be more beautiful than her social media photos.
She’d deleted all of them during the skink incident, and I missed checking to see if she’d posted any new photos of herself with her animals. I’d kept tabs on her over the years from my fake Insta or “Finsta” account as people called it. Maybe she knew and that’s why she deleted her socials . . .
“What do you want?” Her voice was tight, her expression sharp enough to slice me in two.
Fuck. I’d rather have fallen into the lion enclosure than hear the bitterness in that question coming from her lips.
I thought I’d be more prepared for this reunion, but the impact of her standing in front of me was making my hands shake. I kept them tightly clasped under the desk as Dove folded her arms and popped out her hip.
At that telltale movement, a wry smile curled my lips.
There were still flashes of the girl I’d known—in her popped hip, in her stubborn frown, in her indomitable spirit that could stare down an apex predator and not be cowed. But she was arresting in a different way now too, beautiful, sexy even. Her hair was dipped in a deep, vibrant purple—her favorite color. I knew from her Insta that she'd been dying her hair like that for years. Her glasses were new though—rose-gold wire trim, highlighting her big brown eyes—eyes that were currently staring daggers into me.
I cleared my throat and lifted my chin. "It's good to see you, Rogue. It’s been a while.”
“ Don’t call me that,” she bit out.
I shrugged, pretending to be indifferent. It took every ounce of acting training to keep my face in a casual neutral.
What had I been thinking? That she would call me my old nickname in return and we’d go back to fifteen years ago, when we’d been muddling our way through our first Dungeons & Dragons campaign like the fantasy-obsessed tweens we’d been? No. Time had irrevocably changed us, and I knew from the look on her face there was no going back.
“Some of us have real jobs, Deacon,” she growled, her voice lower and more rasping than last I'd heard it. My muscles tensed hearing that perfect bedroom voice, one that was meant to be intimidating but instead carried sultry notes. Focus, Deacon , I thought as she asked, “What do you want from me?”
To go back to when you didn’t hate me , I wanted to say. To go back to when she and I had been best friends for three brief and beautiful summers. But I knew being a hopeless nostalgic would get me nowhere with Dove.
“What do we want from you?” Cody scoffed, his restraint finally snapping. He slammed his phone down on the desk and slid it across toward Dove. "Care to explain this?"
Dove's eyes widened in surprise as she was confronted with a video of herself ranting behind a chain-link fence to a group of my fans. Normally, being called a “worthless waste of space” was par for the course. Everyone felt they were entitled to loudly share their opinions on celebrities, probably thinking we’d never hear it. But I hadn’t expected Dove of all people to be filled with such vitriol. Maybe my skin wasn’t as thick as I’d thought, or maybe Dove had always been my Achilles heel.
Cody’s voice was cold and cutting. “After all that he's done for you?—”
"Cody." I held up a hand, worried he might say too much. "Give us a minute."
The vein in Cody's neck popped out, and I could see he wanted to rage at Dove. I gave him a look that told him enough. Bad idea, buddy. So instead, he took a controlled breath taught to him by his court-appointed anger management counselor.
"One minute," he said, holding up a finger. “One! And then we talk damage control."
He waited until I nodded in agreement to exit, shutting the door loudly behind him. His footsteps boomed down the stairs until Dove and I were left in awkward silence. Suddenly, the room felt incredibly small. I could tell she was mortified by the video but too stubborn to admit it to me. She was a private, curmudgeonly, introverted person—the opposite to me in every way.
I thought she might apologize or come up with an explanation for the video or simply shout at me some more, but instead she asked, "What have you done for me?"
"Hm?"
"Your finance bro lackey over there just said ‘after all you've done for me’.” She tipped her head to the door that Cody had just disappeared from. "Was he talking about you filming here or something else that you’ve done for me?”
"Don't worry about it," I replied, knowing that comment would get a rise out of her again. As Dove’s eyes flared, I smiled wider. “We've got bigger concerns."
She let out a sarcastic huff. " You've got bigger concerns." She waved a patronizing hand at me. "I'm fine."
God, I missed the way she could put me in my place. Maybe I am a sadist. It was a weird thing to miss, but no one in my circles dared to talk to me this way anymore. Dove never sugar-coated anything.
“We can’t ignore this issue,” I pressed.
“Tell that to the Almadran skinks!” she erupted, throwing her hands up in the air in exasperation.
I’d known she and I would have our reckoning one day about the skinks, but I hadn’t thought she’d be quite so enraged about it. “I’m sorry about the skinks, okay? That was all Zap though. I had nothing to do with it.”
Her mouth fell open and she glared at me. Clearly, that hadn’t been a sufficient apology.
“You have all the money in the world and still couldn’t buy a good idea to save your freaking life, Deacon. Why don’t you do something about this? Anything!”
“Ouch,” I said, pretending her words wounded me. I placed my hand to my chest, feeling the comforting outline of the coin hanging on a necklace beneath my shirt. She’d have to try harder than that though. “I’ll have you know, we’re going to donate to a very well-known LA-based organization.”
“Very well known? Which one?”
“I can’t remember,” I admitted.
“LA based?” She was talking so loudly now that some would argue it bordered on shouting. “You really are an idiot.”
My brow furrowed. “What?”
“What does LA know about tropical rainforests? Or the Almadran Archipelago for that matter?” She put her hands on her hips and raised her eyebrows at me, waiting for my answer. When I didn’t give it, she exploded. “Exactly! You need to be working with the locals. You need feet on the ground. Ugh!” She pinched the bridge of her nose in an action I distinctly remembered her mother doing, but I knew if I said that out loud, she would probably cut my balls off. I wouldn’t put it past her. She had a veterinarian sister who would probably help her. “I shouldn’t have to explain this to you. You should care without being told to. You should care that you made a whole species extinct.”
“Technically, it was the company?—”
“And you are the face of that company, you fucking child,” she spat. I lifted my eyebrows, impressed. Damn . She had always been tough, but now she was downright vicious. “All those teenage douchebags buy your energy drinks because it’s your face on the can, you total waste of air. Why are you smiling?”
“Still a wicked little tiefling, I see.”
“Don’t talk D&D to me,” she hissed. “I don’t remember anything. I haven’t played since we were twelve.”
“But you still watch people play online.”
“ How do you know that?” She waved her hand as if cutting off her own impending rant. “You know what? I don’t even want to know.”
She rubbed her palm with the thumb of her other hand. It was such a brief movement before she dropped her hands, but I caught it. I wondered if that scar was still there. I wondered if she was touching it at the memory or if I was just reading into nothing.
“Can we call Cody back and talk game plans now?” I asked, trying to remain patient.
“Absolutely not.”
“Why not?”
“You really live in your own delusional little world now, don’t you? Have you even been listening to me?”
“Are we still talking about the skinks?” I asked with a yawn. I’d been up since 4 am and was desperate for more coffee. “They were native to one little island and no one even knew they existed until a couple decades ago. No one will miss them.”
“I hate you!” She was definitely shouting now. “You could’ve done something about this with your infinite power and clout and wealth, but instead you’re too busy fucking nineteen-year-old models.”
I rocked back like I’d been hit. “I thought you didn’t have socials anymore?” I gritted out, clenching my jaw.
“Yeah, well, the radio is on in the prep kitchens and sometimes even I can’t avoid it.”
We stared at each other in a silent standoff.
So this is what she really thinks of me. I hadn’t fully comprehended the depth of her contempt until now. She hates me.
I thought Dove might be able to see the real Deacon underneath it all, but more and more, I was beginning to wonder if he even existed. I was perfectly okay with hating myself, but I couldn’t have her hate me, not Dove. She was the only non-relative who had been close to me before the fame. I couldn’t forever ruin the one relationship that kept me a human and not a business.
My throat bobbed as I swallowed back the ugly realization. “I’m sorry, Dove. Truly.”
Her shoulders bunched around her ears. “Even if I believed that apology, which I don’t, I don’t care,” she said and turned to the door. “Make this situation right if you want me to forgive you.”
She knew perfectly how to cut me open and pour salt in my wounds. I’d rather her rage than her cold indifference, but if she thought she could get away from me this easily, she was wrong. I would regain her approval. She could try to dodge me all she wanted, but I wasn’t going to give up.