Chapter 31
CHAPTER
THIRTY-ONE
Mercer
I couldn’t go home.
The emptiness there was worse now—the loneliness had become a fog that spread for miles around the place, warning me off.
It reminded me of what Darby had done there, settling me into my own house after I’d spent months drifting through it like a ghost. It reminded me of the angels lurking in my living room, issuing threats and rendering me ineffective in the face of danger. Making me an accomplice to their crime.
So I rode.
I looped the highways that ringed the city, burning gas and time, chasing the horizon until the sun went down and the neon came up.
It was dark before I found myself pulling into the lot of the VFW Post, not sure when or even if I’d made the decision to come here.
But where else was I supposed to go?
I’d barely swung my leg off the Victory before my cell phone buzzed against my hip.
For one stupid, hopeful second, my heart jumped. Darby. Please let it be Darby. He could’ve said anything—hateful, bitter, cruel—and I would’ve listened, just to hear his voice.
But the screen read Unknown Caller.
Still, on the off chance it was someone else from the Dollhouse, I thumbed it on and lifted it to my ear.
“Hello?”
“Nice work, Mister James.”
I would’ve been happy never to hear from Antonella Rossetti again, but there she was, sounding as self-satisfied as ever.
My stomach dropped. “Is that it?”
A pause.
“I beg your pardon?”
“I saw what you did to the club,” I said, clenching the fingers of my free hand. “If you need anything else from there—information, access, whatever—I can’t help you. They fired me.”
Banned me.
Broke me.
Antonella made a pitying sound. “That is unfortunate, but timely since your work for us is done as well.”
It should have been good news, but I couldn’t enjoy it. I could barely receive it as I closed my eyes and swallowed against the bile burning its way up my throat.
“If you want to gloat, consider it done,” I muttered. “You got what you wanted, now leave me the hell alone.”
“Careful, soldier.” Her voice dropped low. “You wouldn’t want to sound ungrateful after everything I’ve done for you.”
Heat flooded my face. “You haven’t done anything for me besides threaten my kid and ruin my life.”
“On the contrary, Mister James,” the angel hissed. “I spared you. Retribution is coming for the sinners, and you have been set apart.”
I could picture her pale, colorless eyes boring into me.
“What the fuck does that mean?” I demanded.
“It means,” she said almost tenderly. “Stay away from the Dollhouse. Stay away from the demons. Your part in this is over.”
The line went dead.
I stood in the parking lot as night descended and the lights kicked on overhead. My pulse thrummed in my ears, and the phone hung limp at my side.
I didn’t know if I wanted to throw the thing or use it to call Darby and beg.
Ultimately, I did neither, instead shoving it back in my pocket and walking toward the Post building.
The faint waft of mildew hit me before I reached the door. Inside, I paused and let my eyes adjust to the dim light and the broad swaths of brown everything. With one slow sweep of the room, I spotted what I was searching for.
Reliable Earl and Frank occupied stools at the bar counter, anchoring the place like they always had.
Frank with his weathered conductor hat tilted low over his eyes, and Earl in his faded denim jacket patched with old service insignia.
The sight of them hit me harder than I expected, and tears pricked my eyes.
I picked up the pace, boots thudding against the linoleum. I hadn’t been back here since Bingo night. Since Darby rushed out, and I chased after him, offering apologies and half explanations.
I slid onto the stool nearest them and signaled the bartender. “Whatever’s on tap,” I told him. My voice came out smooth, scraped clean of everything but exhaustion.
Frank was the first to notice me. His face split into a grin, deep creases carving through weathered skin. “Well, I’ll be damned. Look what the cat dragged in.”
Earl turned, eyes crinkling behind his bifocals. “About time you showed your face, son. We were starting to think you’d run off to Mexico.”
I huffed a weak laugh. “Would’ve, if I’d had the gas money.”
The bartender set a pint in front of me, honey gold liquid with a thick cap of foam. I took it with both hands and curled my fingers around the chilled mug.
Earl took a sip of his beer then tipped his chin toward me with a wink. “How’s your friend?”
Jack snorted from the next stool over. “I think he was more than a friend from the way you were pawin’ on him.”
I stared into my drink, watching the bubbles rise and break against the glass. “He’s not very happy with me right now.”
“Oh?” Jack cocked a brow. “Why’s that?”
Darby’s voice resonated in the back of my head, tart and tremulous.
“You tricked me. Lied to me. Do you know how stupid I feel right now?”
I let out a long breath. “I hurt him.”
Jack’s teasing expression softened while I raised my beer for a swallow. Behind the bar, the fridge compressor kicked on with a hum, filling the quiet until Jack cleared his throat.
“Well,” he said. “If you’re drinkin’ over it, it must’ve hurt you too.”
“Yeah,” I murmured. “It did.”
I lifted my gaze to the old television mounted in the corner. It was broadcasting a poker tournament hosted by the Basilica, judging by the golden winged logo in the corner of the screen. A sour taste filled my mouth at the sight, and I took another drink to wash it away.
“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you the truth about Darby from the start,” I said finally. “He’s… hard to explain. But I think he’s the most incredible person I’ve ever met.”
Earl gave a low whistle. “High praise.”
Jack elbowed him in the ribs. “Told ya they was more than friends.”
My smile was quickly defeated by a sobering truth. “Less than that now, I’m afraid.”
Jack tilted his head. “Was it that bad? The hurt?”
“I don’t know if he’ll forgive me,” I admitted. “Or if he even should.”
It was too much to explain to a couple of old timers—angels and demons, strip club sabotage, and mob-style espionage.
Fortunately, I didn’t have to parcel it out for them because Jack spoke first.
“Well, Doc, what are ya gonna do about it?”
“About what?” I asked, though I knew damn well what he meant.
“I may be wrong,” he said, scrubbing the pepper-gray stubble along his jaw. “But I figure pretty boys are a lot like pretty girls. If you wanna make something up to them, it takes work.”
Earl snorted. “Or bribery.”
I shook my head. “I don’t think Darby can be bought.”
Certainly not for any price I could afford.
Earl propped his elbow on the bar and leaned on it. “I dunno. I saw how excited he got about that toaster oven. Maybe you could buy him a dishwasher or something.”
Jack barked a laugh. “That ain’t romantic, Earl.”
I tried to join in with a chuckle, but the sound caught in my throat. “He wanted that for his friend,” I said, my voice going soft. “He’s… considerate like that.”
Considerate.
Compassionate.
Clever.
Kind.
The list went on, filling my mind and giving me a wistful smile that caused Jack’s grin to dim.
“You really are sweet on him,” he said.
“Yeah.” My eyes stung with tears I quickly blinked away. “I really am.”
Jack rocked back on his stool, stretching out the curve in his spine. “Well, since you never answered me the first time, I’ll ask again. What’re you gonna do about it?”
I scrubbed my hand over the nape of my neck. “He kicked me out. I would’ve helped. I wanted to. They need me to. And they can’t run the club with just one guard. I’m not sure they can run it at all with the state it’s in.”
Earl frowned. “You’re gonna need to tell us a lot more if you expect that to make any sense.”
Exhaling a breath, I draped my arms over the bar. “I got in some trouble with my former employer.” I nodded toward the TV showing the Basilica logo stamped on the felt-topped poker table. “Turns out the idea of good and evil isn’t as clear-cut as I wanted it to be.”
Jack snorted. “Shit, son, that’s one of the first things they teach us in the service. I know you got your leg hurt, but did your brain get rattled too?”
“They’re angels, Jack,” I retorted. “Literal holy beings. What was I supposed to think?”
Earl blinked, eyes bleary behind his glasses’ lenses. “Who’re angels?”
“The Rossettis,” I said, unable to suppress the scowl that accompanied the words. “They run the casino I worked for. And with a name like that, how could they not be the mob?”
Earl squinted. “The angels are the mob?”
“Basically,” I replied, still grimacing. “They broke into my house and threatened Molly. Told me to help them ransack the strip club or else. It’s a mess.”
Jack’s bushy brows knit together. “The stripper club?”
“Yes.”
Why stop there? My whole life was a mess. It seemed like I’d been living in a jigsaw puzzle since I was eighteen, trying to piece it together one “right” decision at a time.
Marrying Rachel was “right.”
Enlisting in the service was “right.”
Signing up for deployments, sending money home, and taking care of my family was “right.”
Even when I got hurt, I’d been doing the “right” thing. I’d been with my squad, out on patrol. Speeding across the sand, following orders.
Since I’d been back, I’d gotten a house and a job, and I tried to do right. But what did I have to show for any of it?
A home that made me feel more sad than safe, a vague promise that I might be able to see Molly in a few days or weeks, and the man who’d said he liked me but meant so much more, now spiting me from all the way across town.
It fucking hurt.
Earl sat up straight and narrowed his eyes. “They threatened your kid?” He might have missed some of the details, but that one stood out.
“They took her picture off my fridge,” I said, recounting the events that had haunted me for days. “Told me I could protect her or the dolls, but not both. So, I made a choice.”
Jack’s mouth pressed into a hard line. “Why didn’t you tell us?”
“I didn’t tell anyone,” I admitted.
I hadn’t even considered it. After putting three bullets in Narcissus Rossetti only to watch him sit up and whine about his ruined suit, I knew mine was not a problem that could be solved. Not by the police, not by a few good men, and not by a club full of the most harmless demons imaginable.
So, I’d faced it alone. The way I’d done everything since I’d signed the divorce papers. Since I got chewed up overseas and the Marines spat me out. Since I betrayed the people I’d sworn to protect.
“Didn’t seem like the kind of trouble I should drag someone else into,” I concluded.
Jack shook his head and muttered something before looking back at me. “Now, Doc, I know you don’t think we’re too old and washed out to get the work done.”
I gave him a tired smile. “You two can barely finish a round of pool without taking a break.”
Earl snorted. “Doesn’t mean we can’t still knock a few skulls if it comes to that.”
Jack raised his glass. “Damn straight. We might creak and crack, but we don’t break easy.”
Their laughter warmed the room, and I let it wash over me. It didn’t fix anything, but it steadied something in me that had been shaking loose all week.
After the humor petered out, I found my voice again. “It might’ve been better if I had told you,” I admitted. “Things may have turned out differently.” I stared down at my half-empty mug, watching the foam collapse into the amber brew as I concluded. “I just want to make it right.”
Jack nodded slowly, eyes on the glass in his hand. “Can’t very well do that by sittin’ here drinkin’ about it.” He paused then looked at me again. “You want some advice?”
I shrugged. “I’ll take whatever you’ve got.”
He gestured toward the TV in the corner. The camera panned over towering stacks of chips and players leering from behind black-lensed sunglasses. “If something’s worth hurting over, then it’s worth fixing.”
“I don’t know where to start,” I admitted.
Jack gave me that same kind look. “Just show up, son. Not with words. Not with gifts. Just… you. The man who’s sorry. The man who cares about him. And if that little demon’s the kind of person you say he is, he’ll see the try in you. He might not trust it right away, but he’ll feel it.”
Earl nodded along. “Or just buy him a dishwasher. Can’t hurt your odds.”
That earned a laugh from all three of us, though mine left my chest aching.
I looked at the ceiling fan overhead, its dusty blades turning as slowly as the thoughts churning in my head.
“Not tonight,” I said finally. “I think he needs time. And maybe I do too. But tomorrow…” I exhaled and regripped the beer mug sweating between my hands. “Tomorrow, I’ll go.”
Jack nodded, approval and worry wrapped up in that simple gesture. “You need backup, soldier?”
Earl grinned from the other side of Jack. “We’ve got your six, be it squaring up against some mobster angels or cleaning a messy club.”
It was more of a comfort than they knew. A small piece of what I’d been missing, or maybe a reminder of what I’d had all along.
“I appreciate it, both of you. But I think I need to show up.” I leveled Jack with a meaningful look. “Just me.”
Jack dipped his chin in agreement before Earl cut in.
“Well, if you do need support,” he began. “I wouldn’t mind tagging along. And I especially wouldn’t mind seeing some demon girls in their fancy drawers.”
If I’d been drinking at that moment, I might have choked on my beer. “They’re all men, Earl.”
“Do what?”
“The strip club. The demons. They’re all men,” I said. Then I thought of Zephyr and Darby challenging the concept of gender one spandex bodysuit or ruffled corset at a time, and I couldn’t help but add, “Though a couple of them could fool you.”
Earl squinted, trying to picture it. “So they’re men wearing fancy drawers?”
I laughed. “Yeah.”
His eyes went wide, utterly mystified. “Well, ain’t that something?”
Jack snorted into his beer while I returned to my thoughts.
Maybe I’d already lost Darby. But if there was a chance—any chance at all—then I’d do what Jack said. I’d show up.
Tomorrow night.
I’d find a way in.
It didn’t matter if the locks had changed or if Colette was guarding the door with all her hellhound fury. I’d stand outside if I had to. Hold down the sidewalk. Keep watch from the lot.
I just wanted to be there, and to do something that meant more than the mess I’d made.
The bar lights glinted off the rim of my glass as I picked it up and drained the last inch of beer. Then I pulled a few bills from my wallet and left them on the counter.
Earl and Jack resumed their banter, but I barely caught the words. My mind was at the Dollhouse, lost in the hum of its lights and the hush between songs, the times Darby passed by close enough for me to feel the heat off his skin.
Outside, I drew up beside my bike and stood there, keys digging into my palm.
Even if it hurt.
Even if he never forgave me.
I’d still go.
Because sometimes showing up was the only thing a man could do, and I wanted to be the kind of man who did.