Chapter Eleven #2
“You know, you’re not his actual parent.” The right side of her lip lifts into a sneer. I don’t know if she’s disgusted with me or something else. I’m not presently interested in asking.
“I’m responsible for him. I’m not supposed to be…”
Pictures flash across the back of my eyes. Ravi calling me Daddy. Ravi grinding against another dancer at Mercer Oak’s cocktail party. Ravi coming across my goddamn lap. “Doing anything more.”
Whether Ravi believes me or not, I did take my promise to look after him seriously. Have I already failed, after what I’ve done?
“Is this a you thing or a him thing? Like, are you all frustrated and guilty because you want a little barely legal ass? Because that doesn’t make sense.
We all know work isn’t the only place you and Zed like to collaborate, and we also know it wouldn’t be the first time you’ve fucked a college student. Is he not interested?”
So much for thinking I’ve been successfully keeping my personal life private.
“He seems to be doing anything he can to get away from me as fast as possible. Including auctioning off his own virginity.”
In my head I’ve gone over asking Ravi to stay a thousand different ways. I’ve even pictured him saying yes. But something tells me that yes would cost something I’m not sure I can pay.
She lets out a low whistle. “Shiiit, I heard about that. That’s intense.” Her fingers swim around in a bowl of peanuts on the center of the table, cracking one and picking it apart with a singular focus. “You want my advice, boss?”
“No, but here you are giving it to me anyway.”
“Damn right. I’ve seen his file. I know what happened to his parents.
That’s a Grand Canyon-sized void to fill.
If you aren’t interested in taking that on, or you don’t think he wants you back, then you gotta let the bird fly the nest. He’s an adult, whether you like it or not.
Nobody understands better than I do why it is you insist on flogging yourself every day, but this young man isn’t your responsibility or your salvation.
Let him move on with his life so you can move on with yours. ”
I nod. It’s good advice. A smarter man might even take it. The crumpled beer label finds its way into my hand again. I go to work shredding it into smaller and smaller pieces.
“It isn’t entirely one-sided,” I finally admit. That’s as far as I go, because I’ve already said more than I wanted to, and because saying “he started it” is a ridiculous cop out.
“Hmm.” She leans back in her seat, hands at the back of her head like she’s about to knock out a round of sit-ups. “I get it. This is punishment.”
When the burn of her laser-focused stare cuts into the side of my face, I’m forced to look up. “What are you talking about?”
“A few years ago I drew the short straw on driving Zed home when he got white-girl wasted after the office holiday thing.”
Fuck. I press my palms to my eyes until colors burst behind my lids. “What are the odds I can teleport myself to a different bar right now where everyone leaves me the fuck alone?” And also: “White-girl wasted?”
“You went home early that night. If you’d seen him, you’d understand. After causing considerable damage to my back seat, he spilled an ugly crying confession about some shit from back when you two served together. Pretty brutal.”
Fuck. “Jesus, I don’t want to talk about this.”
“You keep a therapist on the payroll for a reason. Survivor’s guilt is a thing.
I know you know that. I also know if it was one of us, you’d tell us to get our heads out of our asses over something we can’t change.
Probably some nugget about how you don’t get redemption by living a life of assholish solitude.
You’re punishing yourself, maybe Ravi too, because you don’t think you deserve to be happy after your squad got past-tensed in the desert.
Knock it the fuck off. If the feeling’s mutual, then maybe stop making everyone around you miserable.
Stick to good old-fashioned murder like the rest of us do. ”
Good thing nobody’s nearby to hear her. Though if they were, they’d assume she’s joking. For all her pretty words, she’s not the one who saw the people she was meant to be leading lying in bloody chunks in the sand like castoff meat on a slaughterhouse kill floor.
“Order your tacos or let someone else take your place in line, sir.”
“Right.” I won’t touch the rest of that, but Bev’s on the money.
I ought to leave Ravi the fuck alone. He’s made it clear he doesn’t want my help.
Isn’t interested in hearing about the risks of his lifestyle of working for a small-town lowlife like Brennan Doyle.
If he wants to put himself up on the auction block like a stud horse and let a room full of old men treat him like one, it should be no business of mine.
Ravi’s phone pings again. An email notification. From an anonymous address.
Can’t wait to win you. You’re such a cute little thing. Make sure you keep yourself pristine. Nobody wants tainted goods, pretty.
Hands braced on the wobbly table, I shoot to my feet. There’s no chance in hell the sender’s in this room, but still my head whips around wildly. Looking for someone to punish for threatening Ravi.
“Boss?”
“Bev. Sal asked you to look into that auction, didn’t he? What were you able to find out?”
“Charity auction, technically. Not unusual in the kink community. Aboveboard as these things go.”
“Do they have a location?”
“Brennan Doyle’s the one setting it up, and there’s been a lot of communication between him and Daniel Corvus, the owner of Shadow. If I were placing bets on the location, it would be there.”
“That’s in line with what I’ve heard.”
The more I think about it, it’s also the only venue that makes sense. I spin Ravi’s phone on the table, letting my vision go unfocused as I wait for it to come to a stop. Then I read the email again.
Nobody wants tainted goods, pretty.
My brain’s a little slow thanks to the beers I’ve had, but there’s no way this email is anything but a giant, flashing warning light. This is a vague threat, a spider toying with Ravi, waiting for him to wander into a sticky web.
“I’m going to forward you an email. Do me a favor and find out anything you can about the sender.”
“Sure, boss. I’ll see what I can do. Any background other than the email?”
Nothing I wish to discuss. I’ve had enough emotional purging for the time being.
I push away from the table and head for the door as Bev shouts “Good talk!” at my back.