Chapter 15 #2
When he opens the refrigerator, muttering off more and more options to stuff an omelet with, I’m drawn to it. Food, so much food, and not in a juice bottle either. Rows of fresh fruits and vegetables, long cuts of fresh fish, meat, eggs—I’m overwhelmed.
I stare at the food like it might disappear. My stomach coils into a tight knot. Out of the corner of my eye, I’m acutely aware that Stefan is watching me. His gaze lingers on me as I look at the fridge full of food. I glance away before the warmth in my face spreads to tint my body as well.
It isn’t just the few weeks I’ve been subject to EV’s strict diet that has saliva pooling in my mouth—it’s that my parents never had this much food stored.
At home, when I opened the fridge, the cold light illuminated mostly empty shelves.
A half jar of pickles. A couple of eggs in the carton.
A block of cheese with the corner dried out and hard.
There’d be the typical expired condiments, and a few bruised apples—sparse.
But what wasn’t lacking … beer. Phil’s bottles lined the shelves, tucked in between the off-brand yogurt my mother splurged on for me to take to school.
Cans on their sides or stacked three-high and shoved in the door.
I guess the only silver lining was that Phil drank them fast enough that when my mother had extra money to buy more groceries, she had room to put them in.
If she moved his beer, well, that was bad.
“Yo, girl. You want bacon or sausage? I can do both if you want.”
I rip myself away from the fridge and backpedal to the nearest stool at the island. “Bacon, please. Thank you.”
Stefan pulls out the ingredients for a well-stuffed omelet and sets a pan on the stove.
I sit quietly, watching him move around the kitchen. He doesn’t spare me much attention, and instead he favors looking over the cooking food and, occasionally, turning to look at the TV.
The local news is on, and I do my best to block it out. I should want to know what’s going on in the outside world, but it’s too painful. Knowing there’s an entire city, a state, country, and world moving on without me. It almost makes me mad I didn’t have better plans to contribute to it.
To distract myself, I ask, “How long have you been cooking?”
Stefan keeps his back to me while at the stove. “Longer than you’ve been alive.”
Hey, he answered me at least. “Is Edmond around?”
He sighs, holding the skillet steady while his other flicks the spatula just right. “He’s dealing with security this morning.” He tilts the pan, the egg folding over itself in one flawless motion.
I study the way his hands work for a few more seconds and then follow up. “What about Slade—Congressman DuPont, I mean.”
“Work.”
Wow. I wonder how early one would have to wake up to catch him?
Stefan slides the omelet off onto a stark white plate and sets it in front of me. The hot steam dances and curls upward. This is huge. As much as I want to eat all this, I doubt I’ll be able to. This is definitely a two-person omelet.
I pause on that thought. “Hey, what about the other girl that’s here. She’ll be hungry, too.”
Stefan nods. “Edmond said she requested breakfast in her room last night. When he talks to her, I’ll make whatever she wants. Guess you’re the only one brave enough to venture down.”
I chew my cheek. Definitely not brave enough.
Stefan places a fork next to my plate and stares at my hand, like he’s willing me to pick it up.
Grasping for it, I slice into the omelet, and the first bite melts on my tongue.
The eggs are fluffy, the cheddar cheese is sharp and potent, and the bacon is smoky.
It’s hot and seasoned, and I don’t care if I burn my tongue.
I go in for another bite, then another. “It’s so good … ” I mumble, mouth full.
Stefan chuckles, wiping both hands down the front of his chef’s coat. “Good.”
He goes back to slicing his onions, shifting them to a clear, square bin off to the side while I eat—more like scarf my food down.
“Is there a phone, or something I could use around here?” I ask with as much nonchalance as possible, but Stefan slowly looks up at me and pins me with an I’m-not-that-stupid look. I sigh. “Fine.”
It was worth a shot. He seemed to warm up to me, but of course he’s still loyal to Slade.
It’s then that I catch the words on the TV.
The news crackles, and the tone shifts as the anchor breaks in with a special report.
“We interrupt your regularly scheduled programming for breaking news.” My fork hovers midway to my mouth as the newscaster’s voice cuts through in a clipped and urgent timbre.
“Authorities have confirmed that prominent Chicago businessman Mark Bishop was found dead late last night in his home, in the kitchen of his multimillion-dollar mansion. Emergency responders arrived on scene shortly after his home security notified police, however, Bishop was pronounced dead at the scene.”
The food in my mouth sours, and my fork turns heavy. Dropping it, it clatters onto the plate while I swallow. A prickle of tension crawls up the nape of my neck, and I whirl, hopping off the barstool and moving to stand in front of the TV.
She continues. “Early reports from the coroner’s office indicate he suffered a heart attack. At this time, no foul play is suspected. We’ll continue to follow this developing story—”
“Well, can’t say I’m too sorry about that …”
I spin, staring slack-jawed at Stefan.
Bishop. I saw him less than ten hours ago.
Edmond bursts through the kitchen threshold. “Stefan. Get moving on breakfast for our guest and make it to go. Change of plans. We need to return them early.”
Wait. What?
Edmond directs his attention to me and offers me a tight-lipped smile with zero sign he’s surprised to find me in here this morning.
“Go back early?”
Edmond nods. “Miss Thea, good morning. Yes, we must return both of you right away. There will be questions regarding an EV member’s death regardless of local reports. It’s standard procedure. If one of the members … well, all assets are to be returned, immediately.”
I bristle. Assets.
He sighs. “I’m sorry, Miss Thea. I must insist we get moving. Could you please change? We will be going right away.”
I nod. What was I thinking? Getting all comfortable here.
For one second, one stupid second, I let my guard down.
Let the warmth of Slade coming to get me trick me.
I let the soft and earnest room lull me into something.
What is wrong with me? Now I’m standing here feeling comfortable in a man’s house, and he might’ve killed someone. Did he? Or was it truly a heart attack?
It was GHB, right? I thought … I thought he laced his drink with the GHB he gave us. Oh, gosh. Is it even GHB at all?
This house shouldn’t feel safe. He shouldn’t feel safe. And yet, for a moment, they did.
Edmond shuffles around, and Stefan tosses together a quick breakfast, more chaotic than I’ve seen him.
I glance at the TV. They’re running scared of the news? They want to collect all the girls before what? Before law enforcement questions those close to Bishop, many of whom I’m sure are EV members. Can’t have girls at the house when the police come knocking. The media is putting pressure on them.
I’m sure they have enough law enforcement and politicians in their pockets, but the media … Every headline, every whispered rumor, it probably chips at the edges of who EV is, and I’m going to use it.
Somehow.
Some way.
I don’t know when yet, but I will. The moment I get a sliver of freedom; I’ll feed the media what they’re starving for. They may think it’s too twisted to be real, but I’m sure there are some journalists who would believe me.
If there’s one thing a well-placed underground organization like EV can’t handle, it’s being seen, and when the time comes, I want to be part of burning them in the spotlight.