Chapter Five
No One Could Know
For the remainder of the day, Tyr’s cryptic words whispered to me, making me a distracted hot mess in every sense of the word. Who the hell did he think he was, planting a life-altering kiss on me, only to insist that it be kept our little secret? What the fuck did that even mean? Was he ashamed he’d kissed me? Was he ashamed of me , period?
The very thought made me sick.
I couldn’t imagine Tyr having any scandalized reactions about my background, though. He’d had an abusive father who beat the crap out of his mom, then dealt with an insanely sadistic and murder-happy uncle when his dad landed in jail after beating someone to death.
My dead smackhead prostitute of a mother was small potatoes.
Not that she’d been a prostitute when she’d had me. Audrey had just been another teen mom who found out life with a baby was way different than what she’d seen on a reality TV show. My father was someone I’d only met a couple of times. Once because Audrey had hunted him down looking for financial assistance, and once because my mom had just died and I’d gone looking for what remained of my family.
Both times had ended in crushing disappointment.
So if Tyr wasn’t ashamed of where I came from, why did he want to keep the sudden intimate twist in our already-complicated relationship a secret?
The image of Hades swam before my mind’s eye.
I shook my head and logged the register off for the evening, then reached for the shop’s overhead lights. Man, we were both so screwed up, Tyr and I. I knew Tyr blamed me for all the times Hades wanted to get to him but was too cowardly to confront Tyr one-on-one. He blamed me because I was Hades’s favorite weapon to use against him. I even understood Tyr’s screwed-up feelings about me. It mirrored how I felt about him whenever he chose not to be Hades’s perfect little stooge. Whenever Tyr acted out, that bastard put me in the line of fire.
And it had happened all the time.
The thing was, Tyr had never been behind my torment. Like he said, he had never once hurt me. Hades was the source of all my pain. But brainwashing was a hell of a thing. Every time Hades hurt me, he’d do it while insisting that all my pain was because of Tyr’s behavior.
After a while, part of me began to believe it.
I lost count of how many times I’d wanted to scream at Tyr to make him beg forgiveness for whatever he’d done that day to get me punished. I never did, though. Not once. Not even when I was finally ready to die just so I could escape that mad world Hades had woven around me. Instinct told me that if I’d asked Tyr to apologize and bow to Hades’s madness, he would have done it to save me. But it would have broken him. So I’d kept my mouth shut every… fucking … time, protecting him even though he never seemed to give a damn about protecting me.
As time unfurled in that never-ending hell, our childhood closeness faded and we began ignoring each other. I would grow cold with abject fear whenever I’d see Tyr and Hades in the same room together, because whenever that happened, I was the one who usually lost something.
A tooth.
A clump of hair.
A pint of blood.
The weak little mortal that hid inside me still felt that way, dreading the two of them in ways I couldn’t explain to myself, even after all these years.
It wasn’t fair to feel that way, of course. Logically I knew that. Tyr had never been the one to raise a hand to me. That terrible night before my mother died, the Night of Blood, he’d even killed for the first time trying to get to me before I could slash my own throat and free us all from that hell.
So maybe that was the problem, I thought, staring at the lit shelves glowing in the semi-darkness without really seeing them. Maybe Tyr didn’t want anyone to know of our kiss because he didn’t want a repeat of the past. He and Hades were in open war with each other now, and Hades would gun for any weakness Tyr had.
That used to be me.
Our kiss could prove to be problematic, so Tyr didn’t want anyone—least of all Hades—to know about it. If it became common knowledge, Hades might even think I was still a weakness for his nephew.
I wasn’t a weakness for Tyr. God, no. I never had been, but I meant so much less to Tyr now than I did all those years ago. If Hades targeted me now, Tyr would probably just laugh and tell Hades to kill me quick so I could finally be out of his misery.
Maybe it was the brainwashing, but I could almost hear Tyr’s voice saying exactly that.
I shuddered, suddenly ice-cold in the warmth of my little shop. No, I thought, hugging myself before I shook myself to pieces. No one could know of my kiss with Tyr. I didn’t even want to know about it. My life would be much less complicated if that damn kiss had never happened in the first place.
“Hey, you know what we need?” Roxie came out of our tiny but awesome breakroom behind the counter, coat and purse in hand. “We need to blow off some steam. How about we hit Lush tonight?”
“Hell, yes.” The words were out before Roxie had even finished speaking. Blowing off steam at our favorite bar was just what the doctor ordered. “Give me five minutes to close up shop and I’ll be right with you.”
It took less than three, and another ten minutes for us to pile into Roxie’s Mini Cooper and get to what I considered to be our personal hangout, a gaudy little hole-in-the-wall bar outside of the North Loop area. The thousands of fairy lights strung all over the slanted ceiling made it look like either an insane elf or a gaggle of pre-teen girls had been let loose to do the decorations, and the gauzy red curtains at the windows, tufted booths and curved mahogany bar only added to the ambiance. Various close-up photos of people’s mouths drinking from glasses hung everywhere, all done in artsy black and white except for the Technicolor lips.
Behind the bar was a floor-to-ceiling rack holding every liquor known to man. The low buzz of a packed house still didn’t drown out the never-ending track of power ballads playing in the background, and I found myself humming along to “Unchained Melody” as I breathed in the scents of fried foods and savory seasonings. Lush had a decent menu of sliders and appetizers, a huge step above the usual bar food, but it was their fourteen-page menu of exclusive drinks that consistently ranked Lush as one of Chicago’s best hidden gems.
“I have a confession to make.” Sinking into a tall-backed booth, Roxie handed me a padded menu. “I thought you were going to hassle me about going out to Lush tonight.”
“It’s only Wednesday, and yet I feel like it’s been Friday for days. I need a weekend like a fish needs water, but since that can’t happen, the least I can do is go for that Friday feeling and get a little tipsy. Totally ride-sharing my way home tonight.”
“I’m sure Carlo wouldn’t mind giving you a ride home,” my friend said, eyes wide as she wiggled out of her coat. “He doesn’t mind our girl-time together, because that means I can’t say boo about all his boy-time with all his football-crazy friends that show up at our place every weekend.”
“It’s all good, I’ve got it taken care of. Tonight, I’m getting my drink on.” And if alcohol was capable of making me forget Tyr and all things kiss-related, I was fully prepared to drown myself in it.
“I’m glad to hear it, babe, because after Romeo rocked your boat this morning you’ve been walking around like you took over Atlas’s job of holding up the world, and the weight of it is crushing you. It’s not healthy getting that upset.”
No way could I explain how upset I really was. It’ll be our little secret … “Romeo should have known that just mentioning Hades Colgrave’s name is worse than fingernails on a blackboard to me. I know it’s not good to live in the past, and I try not to. But whenever someone mentions that bastard’s name, I can’t just roll with it like everything’s all sunshine and rainbows.”
“I get that he’s a first-rate monster who abused both you and your mother. Some of the stories you’ve told me make me shiver, and I can’t even begin to understand what it did to your little-kid brain to watch as he systematically turned your mother into a junkie. But I do know one thing, sweetheart. Shit from our past can make our present miserable if we don’t find a way to deal with it.” She frowned at her menu. “How do you feel about fried pickles?”
I see-sawed my hand. Nothing sounded good to me, with the possible exception of Tyr’s mouth… Oh, dear God, I was becoming a freaking basket case. “Let’s split a sampler platter so we get a little bit of everything. And I think I’ve dealt with the past just fine. Well, fine-ish. I mean, I’ll admit I haven’t gone to therapy to talk out my feelings, or whatever. But that’s not really necessary, is it?”
Roxie lifted a fine brow. “A lot of folks would say yes. Especially if they were the one who found their dead mother in bed with a needle still stuck in her arm.”
Mentally I slammed the door shut on that memory before it could get out. Not today, Satan. Not today. “The point I’m trying to make is that I’ve moved on, Rox. I like my life, because I’m the one who’s in charge of it now. I like my little shop, and I’ve got a great group of friends like you who have my back no matter what. I even love my converted loft in that drafty old warehouse, with all its big windows overlooking the city. And even though I share that old warehouse with a microbrewery, I like the faint scent of beer brewing away, all nice and warm and yeasty. I made myself move on and now, after ten years of being free of that living hell, I feel like I’ve got a great life.”
“You do.” Roxie’s nod seemed to agree with me, but her expression told another story. “So, in this great life of yours, how long has it been since you’ve gotten yourself some trouser snake?”
Ugh . “It’s been a minute.” Thankfully our server appeared to take our orders. Along with the sampler platter, I ordered a Never Mind, a S’mores-inspired chocolate martini so sweet it almost made you forget alcohol was involved, while Roxie went for a Lemon Lolly, a killer concoction with lemon cordial, whipped cream vodka and limoncello. “In fact, that doesn’t sound like a bad idea. Isn’t that how men roll? They get in a bad mood, so they find the nearest bitch to put a smile back on their face?” Tyr did that as he sat in his Clubhouse, the undisputed king of all he surveyed. Hell, he was probably doing it right now while I sat there wishing I was her. That bastard. “Why is it we girlies can’t just grab some dick if we’re in the mood, then kick them out the moment we’re done with them?”
“Mm, I used to do that every now and again before I met my Italian stallion.” For several months now Roxie had been burning up the sheets with Carlo Amante, a sous chef over in Lincoln Park who dreamed of one day running his own restaurant. I had no doubt he’d make it. That sneaky guy had gotten me to finish off an entire plate of eggplant parmesan, when he knew I hated eggplant. “Hitting it and quitting it works just fine if you’re wanting to get that smile. But that smile doesn’t last, babe, because it doesn’t fix the problem.”
“Problem?” Our drinks showed up, almost too gorgeous to drink. I dived in anyway, like the brave pretend-goddess I was, but not before I ordered another round. “What problem are you talking about?”
“The problem of you , the finest Jessica Rabbit-lookalike in the world, living like a damn nun whose knees have never been separated.”
I rolled my eyes and sipped some more. Mm, yummy. “That’s a problem?”
“It isn’t just a problem. It’s a sin against nature, and it needs to be corrected as soon as humanly possible.”
In that moment I was infinitely grateful I’d ordered another drink. “Trust me, nuns only wish they could live the way I do. Remember when I tried out that new catsuit on the pole last week? Let’s see a nun do that.”
“Yeah, and you did it in front of me and Misty. Not exactly a sausage fest. It was hot, I’ll give you that—”
“Thank you, though neither one of you cheapskates tipped me for my efforts.”
“My point is that it wasn’t for any special man in your life, because you don’t have a special man in your life. I’ve known you for, what? Seven years? In all that time I’ve had four boyfriends before hitting the jackpot with Carlo. Do you know how many serious boyfriends you’ve had since I’ve known you?”
“One.” Sort of.
“One,” Roxie repeated triumphantly, as if she were a trial attorney who just proved a monumental point in her case. “Worse yet, it only lasted for the summer, and then he went back to wherever the hell he came from.”
“California.” I had been twenty-two at the time, four years out from my mother’s death and escaping Hades’s grasp. Hooking up with Jake Anderton had been very much like my awakening. I’d finally emerged from the trauma I’d endured while in the grips of Hades’s insane Chicago Gravedigger world, and all of a sudden there I was, staring like a smitten kitten at a delivery guy.
Come to find out, Jake’s uncle owned the delivery service, and his uncle wanted him to learn the entire business from the ground up so he could run the company himself one day. That meant being able to do any and every job the company had to offer, and do it well.
At the time, I’d found Jake irresistible—well-mannered, ambitious, self-motivated. Just fucking perfect. He’d been so different from anything I’d grown up with that I started falling for him the moment our eyes met. I would have been completely in love with that man if he’d stuck around any longer than the summer, but one day out of the blue Jake announced he was heading home to California. No build-up, no suggestions of me going with him. Just an offhand “thanks for all the fucking, I’m out.” Then he went poof, and that was the last I ever heard from Jake.
That was when I realized men and women were fundamentally different at their core. For women, we instinctively searched for someone to love and build a future with.
For men, they were looking for a place to park their peen.
It was a wonder the human race hadn’t died out a long time ago.
“Exactly. California. And that was years ago, hon. Years.” Roxie paused as the food arrived along with our next round of drinks, and we both took a moment to fill our plates with piping-hot, savory goodness. “I’m not picking on you, I swear. I just want you to be happy.”
I couldn’t help but smile at my sweet friend. “If you leave all the mozzarella sticks to me, I’ll be happy, girlie.”
“I want you to be happy and appreciated and worshipped like the goddess you are, because I love you.”
“Aww.”
“So I did something.”
I nearly dropped the martini glass I’d just drained. “You did something? Oh shit, Roxie, you didn’t set me up with another one of Carlo’s relatives, did you? God love him, the last one had hair sticking out of the back of his collar. I couldn’t tell where the hair on his head ended and the hair on his back began. It wasn’t his fault and I’m sure he’s a great guy, but I’m telling you I could have braided that stuff, it was so thick.”
“Listen, some Italian men can be a bit on the hairy side—”
“A bit ? Rox, there’s hairy, and then there’s Sasquatch, which is all great and lovely if you’re into that sort of thing. Truly, I’m not judging. For me personally, though, I prefer to feel skin to skin, and not… whatever that was.” I winced a bit, hoping I didn’t sound too mean. “And please don’t think I’m getting salty with Carlo, he’s perfect, I’m sure. Nothing wrong with a little scruff…” Like Tyr’s carefully groomed whiskers just past the point of stubble, and how it could either caress or burn, depending on the amount of pressure he exerted.
Damn it, Ginger, stop the madness already.
“Carlo is perfect, and I’m glad to hear you’ve got nothing against a little scruff, because the man I’m setting you up with looks so damn good in it your eyes are going to pop.”
“Roxie…”
“And it’s not really me who’s setting you up, Ginge. You are the one who brought this man across your path, thanks to your generous and helpful nature. The two of you meeting was inevitable.”
I stared at her. Maybe she’d had too much to drink. “What are you talking about?”
“I’m talking about that.” With a cat-post-canary-snack grin, my friend looked over at the bar and nodded. That seemed to be a signal for a man I hadn’t noticed at the end of the bar to rise from his seat. He kept on rising, an absolute behemoth that had to be nearly the size of Tyr, who was the biggest, baddest dude I knew.
Apparently, at least on some subconscious level, my best friend knew I had a type.