Chapter 5 #2
Hudson made a face of pity. “Well, that’s just sad.
Stand up, girl.” He sighed. “My vote on all of this is no. Not because I think the cult sounds particularly insidious—to be honest, it just sounds like rich people misbehaving and preying on struggling, spiritually-lost devotees. I even think it could be fun for you if you were into it, maybe help you loosen up a little. But given your real motivations, I think it would be most psychologically sound not to proceed. Judas really isn’t worth all this. ”
I knew Hudson was saying this because he cared about me, and he didn’t want me to waste my time and sanity doing things I didn’t want to do for someone who might not deserve it.
But his callous approach was deflating, and I was sick of trying to explain my and Lorelei’s connection—why it wasn’t so easy for me to give up on her.
I just needed to make sure she was okay. Then, life could resume as normal.
The waitress returned, and we finally ordered.
“I’m gonna smoke real quick,” Delilah said.
“Sorry, Nova,” Hudson said, slowly sliding out of the booth behind her. “Hold down the fort?”
I nodded, used to their heathenry by now. My adrenaline was wearing off, which meant I was forced to replay what I’d confessed willingly to Jayne over and over again, cringing harder each time.
“Don’t smoke?” a deep voice asked, attached to a familiar tattooed man sliding into the seat in front of me.
I looked around, as if for help. “Did you follow me here?”
Wes leaned back, unbothered. “I could ask you the same thing. This is my diner, darlin’.”
I scoffed. “Oh, your diner, right.” I was starting to think Wes believed he was in an old western movie.
As if on cue, a different, older waitress stopped in front of us with a tray of food, her face lighting up. “Hi, honey, how are we today?”
“Doing just fine, Destiny. How are the kids?”
“Trouble,” she said, blowing a black strand of hair out of her face. “Martha wanted me to tell you how much they love the new dining room table.”
Wes smiled. “Ah, well, thank you. Tell her I said the pleasure was all mine.”
She nodded and was on her way.
I stared at him, slack jawed. Who was this guy?
“You make furniture?”
He nodded. “Among other things.”
“And you live in Williamsburg?”
He paused, his eyes losing a drop of their previous humor. He stared at me for a moment longer before relaxing again. “I aged out of Williamsburg. I live in Greenpoint. What about you and your little friends? Bushwick?”
When I made an insulted face, he laughed, the sound disorienting me just as it had before. “We aged out of Bushwick,” I mimicked childishly. “We live in Williamsburg.”
Fuck, I shouldn’t have told him where I lived just to make a point.
I realized he must’ve been the hottie Hudson had clocked in the middle of our conversation, which meant he’d likely been sitting in the booth directly behind me.
I internally groaned.
“How much of our conversation did you eavesdrop on? Are you going to rat me out to Circle authorities for thinking they’re a cult?”
“If I were to rat you out, it would be for your obvious ulterior motives,” he said.
My eyes narrowed on his infuriating smile.
“But seeing as I have equally ulterior motives, your secret is safe with me. I believe we’re both looking for answers, no?”
“Are you a journalist?”
“No, are you?”
“No.” My foot tapped wildly underneath the table. “My friends clearly think the whole thing is harmless wealthy people bullshit. What about you?”
I could’ve sworn those stormy eyes drifted to my lips. His tattooed hand was wrapped tightly around a mug, and I couldn’t help but watch the bulging flex of his muscles.
“I have my concerns,” he said vaguely. “I think you should listen to your friend and drop it.”
I straightened. And who the hell did he think he was to tell me that?
He must’ve read the defiance heating my every nerve, because his jaw ticked, and he looked away.
He lowered his voice. “How long have you been in the scene, Nova?”
“What scene?”
He muttered something under his breath that sounded like oh, good God.
“The kink scene,” he said softly.
“Um…”
He rubbed his mouth and sighed.
“Well, how long have you?” I retorted.
He met my eyes again. “I’ve been out for a while. But before that, ten years.”
My heart skipped a beat. He’d said it so matter-of-factly, like it was the same level of admission as woodworking.
“Which makes you how old?” I asked before I could stop myself. It shouldn’t have mattered how old he was because I wasn’t interested in knowing anything else about him. I knew everything I needed to know.
“Thirty-five. And you?”
“Twenty-five.”
He sighed again, with a look in his eyes that was nearly tortured.
My gaze narrowed again. I couldn’t get over the coincidence of Wes being here. “So you just hang out at this overpriced diner all by yourself for fun?”
He snorted. “No. I’m meeting a friend. They’re running late.”
“Oh.” And now, my fingers were tapping. I tried not to look out the window where Hudson and Delilah were gaping at me and Wes from their spot on the sidewalk.
“Back home, there’s this diner where they still let a couple of older gentlemen smoke indoors,” Wes said, nearly wistfully, a slight southern twang appearing that hadn’t been so apparent before. “It just wouldn’t be right to tell them to stop now.”
My already queasy stomach grew queasier. “Where is home?”
“North Carolina.”
I nodded. “Tennessee,” I offered, even though I shouldn’t have and instantly regretted it.
Wes just stared at me, lost in thought. Maybe he was wondering how I didn’t have an accent.
The answer was that I’d literally trained it out of myself, along with all other reminders of my hometown.
I squirmed under the weight of his gaze, tired of being assessed for the hundredth time today.
By him, by the bitchy receptionist, by Jayne…
I cringed again. God, why the hell had I said all of that? That was so weird.
“Ain’t it funny how all the Brooklyn hipsters co-opted hunting camo as a fashion trend?” he finally asked, appealing to our shared Southern roots.
Damn him, I smiled. “Yeah. As if they’ve ever seen the inside of a Walmart.” I let go of a sigh.
He chuckled. Then, he lifted the coffee to his lips and took a generous sip. “You’re not backing down, are you?”
I shook my head. “I need to get to the members-only party, find my friend, and make sure she’s all right. Then, I can get out.”
Wes’s sharp jaw was still rigid, and his eyes easily pulled me under their spell.
Everything about him was different, unexpected, potent.
I could sense when someone was like me and Lorelei—when they’d been dealt a shit hand in life and had come out the other side.
There was something different about the energy they gave off, an unspoken comradery.
Wes seemed like someone who’d done more than survived.
“I’m going to give you my number,” he said. He reached into his back pocket and pulled out a small notebook and pen. He scribbled down his number in messy, masculine handwriting and slid it over to me. “In case you ever need it.”
I hesitated. We weren’t allies. And something about him seemed dangerous. For all I knew, he could be one of the active members incognito, grooming me in a way I hadn’t expected.
I stared down at the paper.
“In order to win their power-tripping little games, we’re going to have to put on a show.”
There it was. He was propositioning me. I shot daggers across the table and crossed my arms in defiance.
“I’m sure there will be plenty of others who’d kill to play with you, but I cannot vouch for their safety, and I don’t know anyone in that space well enough to consider them a good judge of character.”
“Let me guess—you’re my only source of protection and chivalry in a den of snakes, and I should be grateful you’re offering to help me with your superior kink experience and skillsets.”
Wes blew out a breath, laughing dryly. “Listen, I don’t expect you to instantly trust me, but I think we can help each other.
We can talk boundaries and limits. We won’t do anything intense or sexual.
We can figure out something that will appeal to them, gets us what we both want, and then allows us to part ways as friends. ”
My head was spinning, barely understanding what the hell he was even talking about. My dutiful study of erotic literature could only take me so far, clearly. How would we play without it being intense or sexual?
“I’m good, thanks. I’m not one of you, and I don’t want to be.” I got up without meeting his eyes. Outside, I gave a bewildered Hudson fifteen bucks for my drink and the food that hadn’t arrived yet.
“Hey, was he fucking with you? Do we need to get him kicked out?” Hudson asked as he passed Delilah the joint.
“No, he wasn’t bothering me. I just feel sick suddenly. Sorry guys.” I threw a wave over my shoulder as I started in the direction of home. “Enjoy the food.”
It was only when I was curled up with Inara in bed, watching reality TV, that I realized I’d left Wes’s number sitting on the table.