Chapter 23
Chapter
Twenty-Three
EREZ
The Van Dorens have done their best to stay out of government and law enforcement. King Jalon has always operated on the fact that they run legitimate businesses and do so legally. They pay taxes, have all the proper licenses, and keep up with any new laws.
Which means there is no Van Doren in law enforcement.
That doesn’t mean they don’t have friends in government and law enforcement who know exactly what hides in the dark underbellies of the legal business dealings.
Over the last few days, Zephyr, along with Greylyn and Paisley, are meeting with their contacts in the police department and presenting them with what we’ve been working on. The details we’ve uncovered. The proof that we possess.
I’m not allowed to attend the meetings because I’m not an employee of Van Doren. This might have begun because of Alice, but the truth of the matter is, Alice is dead. We don’t have her testimony, and, as we suspected, her art isn’t enough to accuse someone, never mind convict them.
Which means I’m stuck waiting for Zephyr to fill me in on the advice their cop contact gives. Today is day three, and Zeph keeps telling me to be patient. By Monday, we’ll know whether it’s wisest to get the police involved or deal with it ourselves.
I’m not entirely sure why they’re even asking.
We all know the answer. My guess is Zephyr brought it to Paisley because we needed to get people out of the office to follow the men who…
check children out of the shelter. Needing more people involved, especially on the scale in which we’re looking at, meant Paisley needed to bring it to Greylyn.
Greylyn is all about covering all her tracks, so I suppose I’m not entirely surprised that she brought in her cop friend.
Meanwhile, I’m sitting at home in the shade of the patio watching Fade swim laps in his pool in nothing but a skimpy little speedo.
The neighbor kid is jumping on their trampoline, stealing peeks at Fade, which I find really funny.
Like, yeah, buddy. I know he’s hot. He’s far too old for you though.
Maybe I keep checking my phone, looking for an update from Zephyr. Not that I think I’ll get one except to tell me to have patience, but whatever.
Fade pulls himself out of the pool with his hands on the sides as he climbs out.
As he walks toward me, dripping wet, I can’t help but imagine his full body covered in ink.
The design we’ve perfected over the last few years floats in my head like a thin screen.
I can see it all. It’s going to be stunning.
“You’re thinking about tattooing me, aren’t you?” Fade asks as he stands over me.
I laugh. “Is it written on my face or something?”
“Nah. I’ve known you long enough to recognize the look you get when you see someone you want to tattoo.”
Snorting, I shake my head in amusement. “Sorry. I’ve been obsessed with the full-body design since we finalized it. Working in little increments is maddening.”
“My enby kitty is all healed. We can schedule the next if you’re ready,” Fade offers as he sits at the edge of the lounge I’m on. I scoot a little to give him some room.
I want to schedule another round. My hands itch.
It’s been more than a month since I’ve tattooed someone, and I miss it a whole lot.
But my brain won’t commit. What if Zeph calls with a breakthrough when I’m in the middle of a session, so I need to leave?
What if something happens—they catch wind that they’re being watched—and try to pick up and relocate suddenly?
I simply can’t take a chance that I’m going to be tied up until this is over.
“Then what?” I murmur to myself.
“Then what what?” Fade asks, and I realize I spoke out loud.
“Sorry. I was just thinking: once this is over, then what? It doesn’t bring Alice back. Is this for me or because I want to make sure Alice can rest in peace knowing that those who abused her have been dealt with? Just… then what?”
His fingers touch the side of my face, and I meet his dark eyes.
“Then you can live your life as your sister would expect you to,” he answers, not unkindly.
“You’ve spent an entire decade not living, and I think we can both agree that Alice would have hated that.
I don’t need to have known her to know that much. ”
I smile as Alice’s grumpy face flashes before my eyes. “She would be scolding me,” I agree.
“Then that’s your answer. When this is over, it’s over. I’m going to try to say this as gently as possible, but no matter what you do, what you find, how many people you punish or how many kids you rescue, you can’t bring Alice back.”
His words hit my chest hard, and I close my eyes. “I know,” I whisper, but I wonder if some twisted part of me imagines that she’ll come back when the world is safe for her. She wasn’t safe here when she lived. It’s still not safe here.
I swallow the lump in my throat and breathe through the rise of emotion in me.
The heavy moment is interrupted when Fade’s neighbor calls over to him. We look in her direction. Her head is poking up over the side of the six-foot fence.
“Mr. Callum,” she calls again. “Can I speak with you?”
Fade sighs heavily. “I can’t stand that woman,” he mutters as he gets to his feet. “What is it now?”
He doesn’t make it far before she answers, “Could you kindly wear more clothing when you’re in public? My kids don’t need to see… that.”
My eyes immediately drop to the skin Fade has covered in his skimpy swimsuit. I love the way it shapes his ass. That’s the part I see right now, so that’s the part I stare at. Maybe I lick my lips. Maybe I should, just to give Nosey Nelly something to look at.
Fade stops crossing the yard about halfway to the fence.
“First, I’m not in public. I’m in my private backyard.
Second, this is a six-foot-tall fence—taller than you, your husband, and any of your children.
You chose to put the trampoline over here—not me.
Which means, if your kids are looking into my yard, they’re adopting your nosy behavior, and that’s on you. Not me.”
“You could at least take into account I have young children here and be a little more modest,” she argues.
“Your kids aren’t my problem. Perhaps teach them to mind their own business and not stare into other people’s yards.”
“I’ll call the cops,” she threatens.
“Oh, please do. We all know how this will end, and it won’t be with me changing my swimsuit. We go through this every year. If you don’t stop bothering me, I’m going to charge you with harassment.”
The scandal on her face has me bringing a hand up to cover my mouth and hide my laughter.
“You can’t do that!”
“I can,” Fade says and points to various cameras around his backyard. “My cameras point into my yard—my yard, not yours—and they also catch your face always over my fence as well as your kids jumping to look over my fence.”
“You said they don’t look into my yard!”
“Use your brain, woman. They’re not mounted high enough to see into your yard, but they do capture air space over the fences surrounding my yard.
Since none of you are tall enough to reach that air space naturally, your privacy is safe.
But by all means, please call the cops. You’ve been nothing but a menace since I moved in, and the next time one of them shows up at my door, I will be pressing charges. ”
He doesn’t wait for her to respond before he walks back toward me. He smirks, likely seeing the way I’m fighting my laughter. When he takes a seat and the woman is still there, Fade takes a picture of her with his phone.
This, of course, sets her off again. Since she continues to throw a tantrum, Fade picks up his phone once more and begins recording her.
I’m slightly impressed that the only complaint is his swimwear and lack of clothing when he’s in his yard. I kind of thought someone who needed to control what he wears in his own backyard had a whole lot of ugly thoughts on a lot of subjects, but her only topic was his choice in clothing.
Now, she has a lot to say about him recording her. I want to point out that she’s still the only one with their face where they don’t belong. I don’t, but it’s on the tip of my tongue. Fade remains silent and lets her go off, for which she does for more than eight minutes.
Eventually, she disappears behind the fence and Fade stops recording. He huffs and lets his head fall back. “Fucking annoying bitty.”
“She’s been harassing you since you moved in?” I ask.
“Yep. Has a huge problem with what I’m wearing. Almost always. I’m pretty sure she’d like to see me in a parka.”
“Is it racial?” I wonder.
“Honestly, I have no idea. I’ve waited for the race card to be dropped, but she hasn’t yet. Then I was waiting for the homophobia card to be dropped, and that hasn’t yet either. Literally, it’s always about what I’m wearing. Which is something I find… strange.”
“I mean, look at the world we live in. When a woman accuses a man of inappropriate behavior, the first question asked to her is but what were you wearing? At this point, bodies are nothing but sexual vessels. From a young age, she was probably taught to cover up so she’s not tempting an attack on her.
Now she’s pushing that on everyone else even if she doesn’t realize she’s doing it. ”
“You think that’s what it is?”
I raise one shoulder. “She’s solely focused on your clothes or lack thereof. Women are conditioned to believe every man is a threat because god forbid men be held accountable for their own behavior, right? It’s women’s responsibility to change.”
“This conversation would make more sense if I were a woman,” Fade says.
“I’m not saying it makes sense, but she’s looking for modesty from you, which suggests that’s what was probably preached to her as a kid.
Maybe her kids are forced to live with the same expectations from her, and they’re looking at you wearing less than Tarzan and saying but the sexy man next door isn’t. ”
He laughs. His laughter always makes me smile. I drop my hand to his bare leg. The water he’d come over here dripping is all dry now, so he’s just soft under my touch.
“Can I ask you something that has nothing to do with the crazy person next door?” Fade asks.
“Weird that you’re preluding the ask with permission, but sure.”
Fade smirks. His hand covers mine, and I watch his fingers make their home between mine. The contrast of our skin is beautiful together.
“I’m not the first man you’ve been with. Am I?”
I look at him with amusement, considering we’ve touched on this already. Of all the random shit I thought Fade might ask, this wasn’t even on the list. “No. Why?”
“I have an admission.”
“If you’re going to try to convince me I’m the first you’ve been with, I’m going to call bullshit.”
Fade bursts into laughter again. “No. Not by far.”
“I thought not.” A second passes before I wonder, “Why do you ask?”
“That’s my admission. I was beginning to think that maybe you’re asexual.
For as long as I’ve known you, you’ve appeared absolutely indifferent to literally everyone, regardless of gender.
But since we started fooling around, I’ve kind of gotten the impression that you’ve done this before.
With a guy. So maybe I’m now wondering if you’ve been with women, too? ”
I laugh under my breath and lay my head on his shoulder.
“I told you I grew up with the Van Dorens, right? I think we’ve talked about it a little.”
“Yes, and it sounds like they’re completely removed from the world in thoughts and behavior.”
I hum in agreement with that assessment. “I kind of speak about them as if I were somewhat removed. As if I wasn’t practically raised as a Van Doren. I was. I was included in their family celebrations. In holidays. In trips, sometimes. By all accounts, I was one of them.”
“You’re talking past tense.”
“I’m a little removed now, but I bet you can guess why.”
“Alice.”
I nod against his shoulder, and his hand grips mine more firmly. “Yep. When Alice died, I withdrew from everyone around me. Now, they’re more like distant cousins than siblings.”
“Okay. How does this fit into my question? Or are you avoiding it? You don’t need to answer me.”
“I wouldn’t say I’m necessarily indifferent to sexuality and gender, but that’s exactly how we were raised on the estate.
Clothing, colors, toys, accessories, activities—none of it has an assigned gender.
That’s why you see many of the Van Doren men wearing dresses or with bows in their hair and their nails painted.
It was meant to encourage and give permission to their kids to explore and express themselves however they’re comfortable. ”
“I love that,” Fade says with a quiet sigh.
“I did too. It means I grew up with a very abstract view of gender. I understand the science behind gender—the real science, not the middle school understanding of X and Y chromosomes. However, I also know that modern society is one of the few that truly focuses on gender to the extremes that we do and it’s part of what’s poisoned our evolution and stunted our growth as a race.
This can turn into a very long soap box discussion, but I’ll save you on that. ”
“As a nonbinary person, I’d certainly love to hear it, but that’s not what I asked about so we can circle back to it another day.”
“Gladly, but be forewarned, you asked.”
He chuckles.
“Since the way I’m most comfortable visually expressing myself aligns with what the world views as masculine, I admittedly don’t face a lot of bullshit concerning my identity.
This is relevant to some extent because it’s easier to begin with gender and tell you that we were raised with the same views of sexuality.
In fact, I’m not sure I even learned the words straight, gay, hetero, homo, lesbian, and so on until I was…
eleven or something. Because on the estate, sexuality doesn’t define us.
Gender doesn’t define us. It’s not a part of our identity.
I’m Erez Deth. I love art. I wanted to be a tattooist when I grew up.
My favorite color is green, but sometimes I say black because all my tattoos are black. ”
“This is honestly kind of fascinating, but how does it—”
I laugh. “Because it took me a long fucking time to understand why what was under someone’s clothes even mattered.
I grew up with the knowledge that I’m allowed to be attracted to a person and that’s the part that matters.
So, to answer your question, I’ve been with all body parts.
Men, women, neither, both. The whole array.
” I wave my hand. “The understanding that I don’t identify as pansexual makes more sense when you know the whole story. ”
“Then what—”
“We need to start over if you need a label, Fade. Settle in.”
He laughs, but he does. I don’t know if he needs the label exactly. Unlike me, he grew up in a world that insisted that we be categorized based on every little thing about us. I’m going to enjoy trying to unteach him that toxic way of thinking.