19. Alana
Alana
I didn’t have it in me to go back to work.
By now, Darren’s told everyone on the whole staff, and the entirety of the Four Families know.
I keep trying to do a threat analysis, playing endless rounds of the ‘what if’ game.
If Thiago and Lance turn the Four Families against me, then what…
? If the vibe in the office changes and everyone thinks I’m incompetent, then what?
Years of work and honing an image would be gone in an instant.
The answer is the same: cut him loose, move to Seattle for a while and focus on Grasshopper. I’ve already got a flight loaded on my phone. But I’ve built a life here. Could I walk away from that?
Midge is purring on my lap, not quite sleeping. I stroke under her chin, and her rhythmic purrs lull me into a false sense of security. “What do you think, should we be West Coast girls for a while?” She offers me no help.
My practical thinking is what’s kept me alive for the last decade.
And Alana King isn’t the kind of woman who loses her identity and her power over…
a man. There are billions of them. He’s not that special.
But no, I had to go and change the fucking plan, why?
Because he said he was sorry, and I was a fan of a retrospective show.
I’m so stupid. I let myself get all caught up in being Kinsley, let my guard down and now I’ve put him in danger. Literally everything I’m not supposed to do.
There’s a knock at the door which wakes up Midge.
I check the cameras on my open laptop. Grae’s bouncing back and forth and he has something in his hands.
A box? As someone in security, I loathe boxes.
Too many variables—weapons, poison, a glitter bomb.
Maybe if I stay really still, he’ll go away.
He knocks a second time and then sends a text.
My Biggest Mistake: You home?
Sigh. Open the door and tell him it’s not going to work and leave it at that. But to do that, I have to lift Midge off my lap, and she gives me a grumbly meow. She has every right to be upset. I’ve broken the cardinal rule of cat ownership. Midge lifts her head, squints and lowers her chin.
The doorknob feels solid in my hand, like when I open this door, everything will change. “Hi.” I don’t think I did a good job of keeping my emotions neutral.
He doesn’t lean in for a kiss. Odd. I’m the one who's supposed to break up with him. What does he know? His hands are shaking and his eyes are dilated… early panic attack?
“Two things.” He pushes past me and drops the box on the floor. Midge jumps down from the couch, rubs on his leg then sniffs it. It takes all of ten seconds for her to claim it as her own.
“You brought her a box?” Butterflies and all the feelings swell up.
Why does he have to be so goooood? Lance lived with Midge for years and never brought her anything.
Midge purrs and tucks her tiny legs under her body like cat loaf while Grae starts pacing in the space between my couch and the kitchen.
“That was the first, and now I’m trying to pick the right words and tone for number two.”
Shit. Is he about to break up with me? I can’t go through this again. My thumb rubs against the tips of my other fingers. How long has that been going on? Thumb circles have been my go-to self-soothing technique.
“You own Mastodon.” This comes out loud, with a dash of confusion and anger. Huh? Mastodon? How did he find out about Mastodon? Was he approached by one of the Four Families?
“Did Darren tell you?” That’s the only logical solution, but he whips around wildly.
“No.” He pauses, “But if he did would he get in trouble? Did he know who you are?” My mind swirls, who I am?
“Did he know that you and I dated in high school? No, but Lena can’t keep her mouth shut.”
He throws his arms up in the air and waves them around, reminiscent of a chaotic puppet. “You’re still friends with Lena?”
“Yes.”
“But I see her all the time. Why didn’t she say anything?”
I wrap my arms around my body. I don’t know what to say, and I’m not sure why he’s this mad. But it’s not a dangerous mad. No alarm bells are going off. And even if they were, I can protect myself without doing any harm to him.
“Twelve years!” He slams his hands down on the back couch. “I spent twelve years looking for you, and you were right there.” He hangs his head low, and his hair falls into his face.
Wait, what? That’s the second time I’ve heard that. Is it true? My mouth hangs open, and for once I don’t know what to say. I don’t know if I want to cry or vomit.
“You were looking for me?” Everything I thought I knew was wrong. My world spins, and I’m very glad I’m sitting down.
“Of course.” He stares at me and blinks back the sadness and disbelief. “Shit, I must’ve spent like a quarter of a million dollars over the years. I hired private investigators, former military, a few former spies, and they all came up empty.”
That can’t be true. I’m not that hard to find…
unless someone was running interference.
But who, and why? He continues, “Then I started wondering why you didn’t ever come find me.
At one point I was completely convinced that someone in my camp was keeping you away.
” He pauses and looks up at the ceiling. “Do you think it was CJ?”
“CJ can’t find the fries at the bottom of a Five Guys bag,” I state flatly.
My money is on Amanda. She’s the logical choice and has the most to lose if I come back into his life. But I’m not going to say that to him. He’s got enough happening in his head without questioning the loyalty of his best friend and rock.
“This whole time you were a few feet away.” His shoulders sink. “Why didn’t you come get me?” The words swirl in my head, and two answers battle. The first: it wasn’t the plan. It was too early, and things weren’t secure yet. But the second answer guts me to my soul.
“I didn’t think you wanted me to,” I confess.
He looks so defeated and broken. Fuck, out of all the ways I tried keep him out of this mess, I never expected to hurt him like this. He drops to the couch, elbows on his knees as he runs his hands through his hair, while looking down at the floor.
“How long have you owned Mastodon?" He’s asking logical questions, after all this he deserves the truth, or at least some of the truth.
“Four years now.”
He lifts his chin and stares straight ahead. “But I’ve been a client for eight years. Did you know that when you bought it?”
“Yes.”
He’s quiet as a small grin appears. “Did you buy it because you knew I was a client, and you wanted to be near me because you're still in love with me?” Goddamnit. I knew he was going to think that. That’s what Lance and Lena thought too.
“No.”
“Geez, kick a guy while he’s down.” But he doesn’t sound hurt, the playful side of him returning.
He pats the cushion next to him. Maybe being close to him is a bad idea, but I join him anyway.
There’s no hesitation as he grabs my hand and laces our fingers together.
My heart hurts thinking about how right this feels.
“Are you allowed to be with me, or is this some violation of ethics or something?”
“I own the company. I wrote the manual. It’s not a matter of being allowed, it's a matter of whether it's a good idea.” I pull my fingers away from his. “And it isn’t.”
“Why?”
“So many reasons.” My shoulders tense. “It hurts too much. And it’s so much worse than watching all your dreams come true without me. To walk into a grocery store and hear a song you wrote about someone else. To see your face everywhere and know you are so much better off without me.”
His thumb brushes across my cheek. My chest feels tight, my vocal cords hurt. But it’s a good kind of pain. He presses his forehead to mine and closes his eyes. And peace washes over me.
He searched for me, I wasn’t tossed aside and forgotten.
“I wanted you there the entire time.” His voice drops. “The songs were always about you.”
My chest feels like it's being ripped in two. Because his confession doesn’t heal me like he thinks it will. No, instead it pours acid and lemon juice into every open wound. I don’t want to tell him the truth, but if I am planning on walking away, I can minimize the damage.
“My life is…complicated and dangerous. And I don’t want you to get caught up in it.” The palms of my hands rub up and down my thighs. His eyes narrow as he faces me, suspicious and knowing.
“You’re doing your ‘something’s bothering me and I’m stressed so I’m not going to tell the whole truth’ tic.” He twists and lifts his finger to my chin to lock our gaze. No one’s touched me like that. Mildly aggressive, but gentle. “What aren’t you telling me?”
The first year I owned Mastodon I was content knowing he was healthy. Amanda had done everything I asked her to. He didn’t need me in his life to feel whole. That was fine. But then I crossed paths with the Deviant, and everything became more dangerous.
Lance almost died. Lena escaped solely by luck. I had never been more grateful to see the two of them in the emergency room. But then the long uninterrupted beep of the heart monitor and the ER launching into crisis mode replayed in my mind.
“I don’t want you getting caught up in it more than you already were.”
His brow furrows as he whispers, “Explain.”
Tell him the truth and let him walk away.
“Three years ago, you were given a lethal dose of Majesty as retaliation in a drug war started by my friends and another dealer.” I replay the day in my head.
“Lance blacked out after coming into contact with Majesty, and then I got the call that both of you had been admitted to the ICU.” My body shudders as the memory crashes over me.