Chapter 40
Aweek later, my brother moves into the Haven Security building.
"You've entered your apprenticeship," Ziggy says. "You're like my padawan, dude. We're going to show you how to use your hacking powers for good, not evil."
Alex frowns. "Gabriella says I shouldn't use them at all."
"That's like, not an option. You have to use your powers. Trying to subdue them is impossible--they'll just splash out in messy ways."
Alex shrugs. "Makes sense."
"But we only use our powers for good here. We're the good guys."
I open my mouth--I have so many questions--but Mack subtly shakes his head at me.
"Cool," Alex finally says.
"Let's get you moved in and set up."
The third floor of the building looks remarkably like the dorms I lived in during college--painted cinderblock walls, metal doors, commercial-grade carpet.
But Alex's room is much bigger than my dorm room, plus he doesn't have to share it with a pot-head who's going to drop out halfway through the second semester.
"They're all furnished like this, but you can change stuff out if you want," Ziggy says. "We have a facilities manager who'll put stuff in storage if you want to buy your own couch and shit."
Alex sits and bounces up and down on the three seater. "Nah, this is great."
I'm sure anything would feel like a palace after living in a tent for three weeks, but I don't say it.
The little apartment is simple, but nice: small galley kitchen, small dining room, medium-sized living room.
A single door leads to the only bedroom.
The closet isn't walk-in, but it spans one whole side of the room.
The bathroom is a tub-shower combo, spacious single vanity, and toilet.
"There are strict rules here, though," Ziggy says. "We work ten to twelve hour days, sometimes more if we’re working an emergency case. And if you oversleep, Cole lets his guys roh-sham-bo to see which one gets to practice infiltration on you."
"What does that mean?" I ask, frowning.
Ziggy frowns. "They'll break into your apartment and hog-tie you while you're asleep. Not a great way to wake up, let me tell you. Especially because they leave you like that for an hour to learn your lesson."
Mack takes my hand and gives it an encouraging little squeeze. He must see the worry on my face.
"They're good guys," he says. "They'll treat him like any other member of the team."
I nod. I'm glad to hear it, but none of this is my choice. Alex is an adult now--he has to make his own decisions. If he thinks this sounds great, I’m not going to try and talk him out of it.
It doesn't take long for Mack and I to get Alex settled.
He doesn't have that much stuff--two trips up and down the cement stairwell and it's done.
Thankfully, along with furniture, the kitchen comes with some basic dishes, pots and pans, and soap for the dishwasher.
There's towels and a pack of toilet paper in the bathroom, too.
Alex has already asked Sharon if he can go part time at Shady Lake.
She's delighted to have him there only in the mornings.
The rest of the time, he's going to be working for Haven Security, on who knows what.
I'm kind of scared to ask, to be honest. Alex’s situation is starting to feel too good to be true.
Mr. Regis called in that favor after all. Alex’s new parole officer is a guy named Jim. I went with Alex to his first meeting. The guy looked over Alex’s file, frowned, then stared some more.
“Why was Mr. Franklin visiting so often?” he asked, a little crinkle between his brows.
Alex shrugged. “I don't know.”
“Alright, well. Keep on the same path you’re on, and I think we’ll do just fine.”
My life is going a little too well to be believable, too. I live down the hall from my too-hot-to-be-real boyfriend, after all. But even though we make out until I'm afraid certain parts of me are going to explode, we don't do it. Every time we get close to that line, one of us shuts it down.
Actually, come to think of it, lately it's been Mack putting on the brakes.
I frown. Maybe I should talk to him about it.
I know he finds me attractive, but maybe he's really not really ready to move this to the next level?
I mean, he says he's in this for the long haul, but what kind of guy doesn't want to dick down his own girlfriend?
I'm still frowning as I wrestle my paper bags in the front door. Tonight's dinner is my version of comfort food--brisket queso dip, fresh tortilla chips, and the makings for greasy, ground-beef tacos. Tex-Mex at it's finest.
Mack is sitting at the kitchen island next to Axe. Both of them are staring at their laptops, with noise-cancelling headphones on their heads. Mack pulls his down when he sees me.
“How’s it going? You ever played this before?” I ask, peering over his shoulder. I'm surprised to see War of Veilcraft on the screen.
“No, but Alex has been bugging me to join his group, and I like videogames in general. This is a cross between a first-person shooter and a role-playing game.” He blasts several huge spiders on the screen, one after another. “I think I’m getting the hang of it.”
I watch him for a few more minutes. He does seem to be getting better, but the spiders keep coming.
My eyebrows scrunch together. “Does this ever stop?”
“I'm starting to think that they just keep coming in waves, which means I need to figure out a way out of this cave.”
“I don’t understand,” Axe whines, super loudly, next to him. “I’m killing the spiders. It starts out fine, but then there’s too many and I die.”
“Becuase you’re supposed to run from the spiders, not stand and fight.”
“What?” Axe bellows.
Mack yanks off his earphones and repeats the instructions.
“But why would they put spiders there if they didn’t want you to kill them?” he argues.
“You’re supposed to kill some of them,” he admits, grinning at me. “But just enough to be able to escape.”
“Well they should tell you that,” he grumbles, portaling into the cave again.
Midnight runs by, chasing after Mooch.
“Knock it off, you little slut!” I yell. “He’s not going to respect you if you go chasing after him like that!”
Midnight ignores me, of course.
Mack laughs, shaking his head. “Mooch likes Midnight as much as Midnight likes him. There’s no need to play coy.”
And suddenly I’m wondering who we’re talking about--the animals or our situation.