“You are?”
“…Sure.” Thraex admitted. “Why not.” For an instant, Thraex saw Sasha in her brother. And he recognized that he needed to say something, because the boy was obviously hurting. “Sometimes… sometimes a man fails at his own life for a spell. And he can stay stuck on that failure, or he can try to make the most of the time he’s got left.”
“You spent how many years snapping necks and cashing checks for the Freedom Squad?” Kurtz sniffed.
Thraex let out a tired sigh. “Too damn many.”
“You think there’s a way of coming back from that?” Kurtz asked, sounding serious. “Starting again? When you fucked up your life that bad?”
“I don’t know.” He admitted. “All I can do is try, I figure. We dug quite a hole here, son, it’ll take some time to claw our way back out of it.” He put his arm around him. “You have a family that loves you. And the smartest woman I’ve ever known says that you’re even smarter than she is. Forget about what everyone says you should be or could have been or would rather you be. If you don’t like the man you are, become the man you’ve always wanted. This family will back you. Even if it’s stupid and ends in disaster. To be honest, you’ve already blown it. You’ve already failed. So you might as well take a risk on being happy.” He shrugged. “At this point, it could only help.”
They both considered that in silence.
“And how are you going to fix your life?” Kurtz said after a breath.
“I got no notion.” Thraex reached over to take the man’s bottle. “We’re all failures.” He admitted. “We’ve seen the worst in each other over the years. But family is about accepting each other’s flaws. At least that’s what Maman Thibodeaux always told me, and that old woman was just about the wisest person I ever met.”
Kurtz’s lip curved. “You including yourself in The Window Seat Tribe now?”
“There’s nothing wrong in being in the seat by the window if your family is there too,” Thraex raised his bottle to Kurtz in a toast, as Sasha wandered down the alley towards them, “and we’ve sure got a great view.”
Chapter 15
“Herbert Westgate. Died 1924. Killed on Everest, tryin’ to jetpack to the top. Just should’a brought a sled or somethin’ to get back down.”
– Thraex, Damn Fool Ways Westgates Ended Up Graveyard Dead: Vol. 1
Sasha was sitting outside the little model home in the Westgate building, squinting down at the crime scene photos of Argyle Doucet’s suicide.
Generally speaking, forensics wasn’t the kind of science her family typically did, but it felt like the right time to get into the field.
From what she’d been able to gather from speaking to the police, the man had shot himself. But looking at the photos, there was petechial hemorrhaging in his eyes and bruises on the man’s throat. Both of which would be signs of strangulation.
People didn’t usually strangle themselves to death, then shoot themselves.
Which meant murder.
She put the photo down, and looked over at a group shot of all of the men standing next to her father.
For some reason, they’d all been killed this week. And as much as Thraex denied it, there didn’t seem to be any other connection between them except him.
Well… aside from the fact that they all lived inside Reichelt Park, anyway.
She turned the page in her folder, showing a map of where the men had labs in the community, then frowned slightly as she saw that they were all around the park itself…
Her thoughts were interrupted as Thraex strolled across the fake plastic lawn towards her. She was sitting under the little domed picnic area, which was covered by multicolored hexagonal aluminum and clear plastic tiles. It was completely pointless, obviously, since the entire space was covered by the building’s roof, but it was surprisingly easy to forget that when you were on this floor. Basking in its colorful, optimistic fake version of “1986.”
1986 was so much more interesting in 1957. But that was always the way with the future. Things looked better looking forward. Or did, anyway. Now visions of the future were all dire warnings about the present.
“Did you make sure that Colby and Zoe are watching him? She asked, looking up from her research.
“Yeah, he’s sleepin’ it off.” Thraex rolled his eyes. “He’s either got to quit drinkin’ or see some kinda headshrinker, ‘cause I can’t stand another one of his monologues about how meaningless the world is or how nobody really understands the ‘cosmic distance ladder’ but him, and how that somehow relates to his whore of an ex-wife.”
“When he was 14, one of my uncles took him on a trip into the multiverse and when he came out he told me, ‘Sash… I have seen the naked heart of the multiverse and recognized that it’s meaningless.’”
Thraex rolled his eyes. “There comes a point when that stops bein’ an excuse.”
“You know he took my mother’s death hard.”
Thraex stepped over the picnic bench to sit down across from her. “He just likes the drama.”
“I’m worried about him.”
“What for?” He snorted. “You aren’t tryin’ to pin murders on him now, are ya?”
She made a face at him, tapping the photos on the table. “I’m not trying to pin murders on you, I’m just…”
He raised his hand to wave off her denial. “I know, I was only teasin’.” He leaned over the table. “How we lookin’?”
She turned the map so that he could see it. “Do you find it odd that Merridew and the Doucets both had labs across the street from the park?”
He shook his head. “Lots of folks do.”
“Not anymore they don’t.” She pointed at the map. “There were only five labs in that area,” she marked each on the map with a pen, “the Doucets, the Merridews, the Rouillards, the Lafayette-Duprees… and the Westgates.”
Thraex squinted down at the map, trying to make sense of the pattern the dots created. “What about Triumph Labs?”
She shook her head. “They were located by the river, not near the park. They’ve upgraded, but it used to be an industrial-looking three story affair. Nothing as grand as you’d find in Reichelt Park…” She pursed her lips in thought. “They’ve been…”
“…buyin’ up most everythin’ in town.” He finished for her.
She nodded. “The land across from the park would certainly be the most valuable to a developer, but I don’t think they’d kill for it.”
“Folks have killed for less.”
She shook her head, still doubtful. “I don’t know.” She stood up. “Jaxx doesn’t strike me as a killer.”
“He was with the Freedom Squad.” He reminded her.
“So were you.”
“So was I.” He agreed darkly.
She started towards the little model home. “You’re not a killer, Thraex.”
“Folks I killed would prolly say different, chère.” He moved to follow her up the stairs into the fake house.
“You know what I mean.” She walked into the kitchen. “Jaxx is…” She trailed off.
“He pronounces the word ‘rendezvous’ as ‘rhen-dev-er-russ.’” Thraex finished for her, sounding amazed and deeply annoyed. “Heard him once on the TV.”
She snorted in amusement. “Everyone has their own personal quirks and idiosyncrasies, you’re just used to ours.”
“Not really.” He sat down on one of the stools next to the kitchen bar area. “Y’all have a little tiny house, inside your bigger house.” He reminded her, then looked out the large window in the living room behind him. “With its own little teeny plastic lawn.” He refocused on her and shrugged. “I learned my first day in this dimension not to go asking too many questions about Westgate logic, or that whole damn house of cards might just come tumblin’ down.”
Sasha busied herself with preparing dinner. With the holidays on the horizon, she wanted to test out cooking a turkey. It required preparation since the model home’s oven was… unconve
ntional.
She carefully set the turkey onto the spit under the clear bubble dome of insulating glass, then slid the top closed like a space helmet.
Thraex stared at the turkey as it sat under the dome, then looked over at her. “Case in point.” He deadpanned. “Ain’t nobody in the world that could get used to Westgate ‘idiosyncrasies.’”
“This is a perfectly ordinary oven, Thraex.” She retorted, feeling like he was being needlessly critical. “Besides, aren’t you usually the one who defends this building?”
“I defend things that work, Miss Sasha, not things that are weird for the sake of weird. I never even come in this little house, I generally avoid it.” He pointed out the window to the far side of the outdoor space. “And can you give me one damn reason why ‘The Bathroom of the Future’, is not located in ‘The Home of Tomorrow’?”
She craned her neck to look across the lawn at the black tile and cabinets of the bathroom space, with its yellow and peach countertop and fixtures. “I have no idea.” She admitted, washing her hands in the kitchen sink. “I guess there wasn’t room.”
“Then shouldn’t they have made the house bigger?” He gestured to their surroundings. “To fit it in?”
“Does it matter?”
“Just always tryin’ to figure you Westgates out, Darlin’, that’s all.” He let out a long breath. “I’ve just about figured out the rest of humanity in this dimension, but you Westgates are a masterclass unto yourselves. I spent two decades around you now, and half the time I still got no damn notion of where your heads are at.”
“We’re perfectly ordinary, I don’t know why you seem to think we’re odd.”
He turned his head to watch as Sparko the Robo-Dog wandered from the building.
He arched an eyebrow at her, like that once again proved his point.
“Oh, shut up.” She teased, pressing a button on the countertop. Nothing happened. She slapped her hand down on it in agitation.
“What?”
“The darn motor shorted out again.”
His eyebrows rose. “You need a motor… to open a cupboard?” He deadpanned.
“The whole thing drops down to get inside the upper cabinets,” she gestured with her hand, “and the bottom cabinet shelves rise up from under the countertop.”
“Why not just have doors?” He leaned over to look at the cabinets in question. “Like normal folks?”
“Because that’s not futuristic!”
“But it’d be a damn sight easier than installing motors on everything!” He gestured at her in agitation. “This is the problem with your family: you’re more concerned with methods than results. Y’all care about motors for your cabinets, but not a damn one of you cares about affording the food to put in ‘em.”
She made a humoring sound and bent down to once again repair the old motor. “It’ll just take a sec to fix…” She promised.
Thraex didn’t view that as the end of their conversation though. “Just put doors on the damn cabinets and tell anyone who don’t like it that they don’t have to stick around and look at it.”
“The idea is to push the limits of our world, even in small ways like industrial design.” She crawled into the cabinet area, reaching to the back to access the mechanism.
“…That’s just not how you folks do things, you’re always caught up on who might be talkin’ about you, so you need to make sure everyone recognizes how ‘futuristic’ everythin’ is, even if it ends up being complicated to the point of being senseless.” He slapped his hand down on the counter in irritation. “Ya press the button on the damned elevator, but it won’t come, ‘cause the ‘invisible eye’ don’t think you’re a Westgate! And you’re standin’ there, pressin’ it and pressin’ it, feelin’ like a damned fool!”
She popped her head out of the cabinet to look at him. “The what now?”
He looked down at the floor. “Nothin’. Not important.” He cleared his throat and pointed at one of the upper compartments. “Why not just get something out of that one instead?”
She shook her head. “No, that cabinet is for ‘irradiated foods.’”
He let out an incredulous gasp. “What kinda damn fool wants to eat food what’s been irradiated!?!”
She rolled her eyes and returned to her work.
“How about that one?” He pointed at another one of the cabinets.
“Ultrasonic dishwasher.” She explained. “Don’t turn it on though, it costs too much to replace the fluid.”
She could practically hear his eye roll. “That’s just…” He trailed off.
She crawled further into the cabinet area, finally finding the issue and patching it. “Okay, that should do it…” She announced, pulling herself out of the tight space. “I think…” She stopped whatever it was she’d been about to say.
Thraex was staring at her as she was on her hands and knees working on the mechanism, her rear all but presented to him like an offering.
She swallowed, suddenly feeling hot and awkward and wishing that someone else was in the room with them. But she didn’t move. She stayed right where she was.
His gaze was like liquid fire tracing its way down her legs and rear.
“I think…” She got out, voice sounding hoarse.
“Hike up your skirt, Miss Sasha.” He ordered flatly.
“E-e-excuse me?” She stammered, wanting to move away from him but being unable due to the fact she was on the floor and blocked by the cabinets.
“You heard me.” His voice was rough and low. “Reach down and show me what’s under that little skirt of yours again.” He tilted his head to the side. “Now.”
For some reason… she did as she was told, reaching behind to lift the hem of her skirt, baring her panties to his view. They were utterly utilitarian, in no way sexy.
“Very nice. Good Westgate.” He growled out, vision set on her ass. He crooked his finger. “Come ‘ere…”
She started to rise.
“No.” He immediately shook his head. “On your hands and knees.”
She crawled towards him around the counter, keeping her eyes on him the entire time. There was something so darkly exciting about it.
“Good girl.” He reached down to help her to her feet, yanking off her skirt in the process. His eyes remained locked at the juncture of her thighs.
He moved his hands to the waistband of her panties, and she let out a soft little sound as his fingertips touched her skin. She recognized that she should stop this, but she couldn’t. She didn’t even want to.
He started to slide them from her body, and she stepped out of them for him. She used his arm for support, then automatically thanked him.
He seemed to like that, his mouth curving into a wolfish smile. “Happy to, Miss Sasha.” His hand moved up her thigh, gliding over her skin. “Happy to…”
He leaned back, getting a view of her, naked from the waist down.
She didn’t look away, instead she squared her shoulders, unashamed of herself. She’d spent a good many years of her life feeling horrible about wanting this man and doing the things they’d done.
But she was through with that.
Yes, he was her ex step-brother and the leading suspect in a triple homicide… but she wanted him. She wanted nothing more than to be in his arms. Finally.
His finger unexpectedly entered her body, and she stiffened, stumbling backwards away from him on her tiptoes. He pursued, backing her up against the counter of the kitchen. He leaned closer to her, fingers still inside her and keeping her from retreating further.
His hand moved to her neck, then redirected her chin. He made her look at him, showing him the hot pleasure on her face she was unable to hide. Her breath came out in a ragged gasp, feeling like she was caught in a trap she didn’t want to escape from.
“Feel good, chère?” He whispered, his voice hot and rough.
She nodded desperately.
“Tell me.” He ordered. “Be a good little Westgate and you tell me t
hat you like this.”
“Yes…” She gasped desperately. “It feels good…” She quickly mumbled. “God, yes, you know it does…”
She reached down to take his wrist, trying to pull his hand free of her so that she could regain her sanity and her footing, but his fingers remained right where they were.
“You hugged me when I was 13.” He reminded her, lips crushing against her temple. “Even then… this is what I wanted to do.” He added a second finger, stretching her.
“I know…” She breathed, still trying to back away and finding that she couldn’t. Instead, she raised her foot off the floor helplessly, and let out another soft sound as the movement simply allowed his fingers to further invade her. “I could tell…”
He moved so that his face was directly in front of hers, nose to nose, watching her.
Her hips began to move with his hand, unbidden, while she wrapped her leg around him.
He stepped back from her and removed his fingers, and made a twirling motion.
Sasha immediately turned around, letting him look at her rear again.
He ran his hand over her flesh appreciatively, caressing her cheeks and running his thumb over the cleft between. Then he spanked her right rear cheek. Hard.
She jolted, letting out a hiss of pleasure and pain.
“You’ve been a bad girl, Miss Sasha.” He reminded her. “The whole town told me. Took advantage of your poor student, didn’t you?” He spanked her again, this time eliciting a moan from her. “You made me a man, then you ran away from me for years. Years, Darlin’. Lot of lonely nights, rememberin’ the feel of you. You owe me.” He roughly turned her back around to face him, his hands immediately moving to the neckline of her dress. “You owe me a lot.” He ripped it from her, tearing it at the seams and baring her bra.
It would take her hours to fix that. And it was worth the sacrifice. “Take it.” She all but begged. “Whatever you want, Thraex… Whatever you want from me, please take it…”
His large hands yanked the cups of her bra down, his fingers expertly moving to pinch and caress her nipples.
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