by Sam Mariano
I nod, satisfied with her answer, and return my attention to the document in front of me.
“Can I ask you something?”
“Go ahead.”
“Doesn’t it bother you that I was with Vince? That I… did stuff with him first?”
A smile tugs at the corners of my mouth. She’s so goddamn pure. “No, it doesn’t bother me that you ‘did stuff’ with Vince first.”
“But how? If you liked me enough to sneak into my room and secretly have sex with me, how did it not bother you to see me with someone else?”
“I have you now, so what is there to be bothered about?”
She switches feet, spreading polish on the other toes. “I just figured it would bother you. It would bother me.”
“Yes, well, you and I don’t think the same way,” I inform her. “You perceive emotionality in every little thing. I don’t. People like orgasms. People do things that give them orgasms, sometimes with other people to make it more fun. What in that is supposed to break my heart?”
“But doesn’t it annoy you that I have—or had… or… I don’t know. Doesn’t it bother you to think about me caring for Vince? Or is this strictly sexual for you?”
“This, as in your presence here in my bed? Or this, as in, your history with Vince?”
“Both? Just tell me how you feel about every single thing, then we can cover all the bases.”
I grin at her suggestion. “Yes, that sounds likely to happen.”
“I didn’t say we could get it all in today. We’ll tackle half now, and on your next day off we’ll tackle everything else.”
Her tone was light, but mine is mocking. “We’ll just lie in bed, sharing our views of every feasible topic in the world. Compare and contrast.”
“I think it sounds like a nice way to spend a day,” she states. “I’m fascinated by your view of things. It’s nothing like mine in any way.”
That’s an understatement.
“Well, it’s a long plane ride to Dubai; we can cover religion and politics then.”
“Thanks for the notice; I’ll study up.” She flashes me a smile. “When is that, anyway? I am in school, you know. I can’t just skip a bunch of days to go jet-setting.”
“You could.”
“Heaven University will not be impressed,” she states.
I hadn’t even considered she would balk about missing school. I haven’t sent a final date to the man I’m meeting with yet, so I open another tab and pull up the website for Mia’s high school. Calendar of events, there we go. I pull up this month and check it. Huh, she has a winter carnival coming up. Wonder if she and Vince were planning to go to that. ACT testing. Ah, there we go. A Monday where she has no school. She could just miss Friday, then we can leave Thursday night and have a long weekend.
I open up another window and type out an email to see if any of those days work for the meeting.
It’s moderately annoying to accommodate her schedule, but it’s only for a few more months. Maybe we’ll go somewhere just for fun over the summer. It’s been fucking ages since I’ve had a vacation. A vision of Mia in front of a clear, blue ocean, wearing sunglasses and a tiny bikini flashes to mind.
Yes, I want that.
We’re going to do that.
I’m tempted to open another tab and start vetting locations, but this girl has distracted me from work enough today. I close her school calendar and get back to what I was doing.
Mia finishes painting her toe nails and stretches her legs out on the bed, retrieving her homework folder from the table on her side of the bed. I like this. Both of us working on our own things, but spending the day together. I could get used to this.
My phone buzzes on my own bedside table.
It’s from Adrian. “Got your info.”
“Already?” I send back.
“Her mom’s mouth works like a vending machine—feed it some cash and a prize comes out.”
“What’s the verdict?” I ask. Mia already told me there were no abusers in her past and she’s not a great liar, so I expect a similar response from Adrian.
Instead, he sends back, “We’ll talk later.”
I scowl at the screen, then dart a glance over at Mia. She’s occupied reading and not paying attention to me. Then I glance back at Adrian’s message on the screen. Could still be a no. Maybe he found something else.
“What’s your favorite movie?”
My glance darts back to Mia. “My favorite movie? I don’t have one.”
Mia rolls her eyes. “How do you not have a favorite movie? Everyone has a favorite movie.”
“I don’t,” I assure her. “I don’t watch a lot of movies.”
“What do you do in your down time, then?”
I don’t have down time. Doesn’t she understand how much work I have to do on a daily basis? What am I saying? Of course she doesn’t. She’s going to keep asking questions until she gets something personal, though, so I dig deep, back to when I did do more than work. That just uncovers Beth, and she’s spent enough time in my memory today. I go deeper, older. Childhood.
“When Adrian and I were kids, we used to watch Batman. I suppose it was his favorite movie more than mine, but I guess it would’ve been that. His mother made us black bat capes for Christmas one year but he never wanted me to wear mine. There could only be one Batman, after all.”
Now she’s grinning, her eyes sparkling with endearment. “That’s adorable. It’s so cool that you guys grew up together and you work together now.”
“Yes, he thinks it’s very cool,” I say, dryly.
She sets her folder aside and scoots closer to me, apparently more interested in hearing my stories than doing her homework. I still have work to do, but I suppose I can take a break. I save what I’m working on and close the laptop, setting it aside. Then I join Mia in relaxing, snaking an arm beneath her and pulling her into my arms as she asks, “Why doesn’t he like you now? If you guys were that close all your lives, what happened to change it?”
“We weren’t close all our lives, we were close in childhood.” Inseparable, actually. “Unfortunately, I’m the son of a monster, and that monster ruined Adrian’s life. I think afterward, Adrian just couldn’t separate us. Even though I had no part in it, I was a constant reminder of what he’d lost. He knew I was on the same path so he never let our friendship return to what it was before. Maybe he couldn’t. I don’t know.”
“But he protects you now,” she points out. “He came back into your life for some reason.”
Because I force him to be here. I’ve shared plenty already, so I don’t offer that. “I’m good at finding what motivates people,” I say, instead.
“That’s a valuable talent.”
“Yes, it sure is.”
“I still think he must have some affection for you,” she insists.
“I’m not surprised you think that,” I remark, smiling faintly.
“I never had any friendships that stood the test of time like that,” she tells me. “We always moved around a lot and at the very least, I had to change school districts every couple of years. My mom always went where the boyfriends were, and none of the boyfriends ever lasted.”
I see an opportunity to revisit a topic I’m curious about, so I ask, “Did you get along with all of them?”
“Mostly. There were a couple I didn’t like, one that didn’t like me, but most were okay. One of them had a dog I liked much more than the boyfriend.”
I smile faintly at that. “Never had a dog of your own?”
“No,” she answers, easily. “It was always an extra expense we couldn’t afford. Two of my mom’s boyfriends had dogs, though, so I had them briefly when we lived with them. The first one bit me, so I didn’t like him at all. I liked the second one, but he wasn’t properly potty trained and it left messes all over the house. Strangely enough, I never really craved an animal companion after that.” Smiling faintly, she looks up at me. “What about you?”
“It d
oesn’t sound like your mom was especially careful with you.”
“Well, she didn’t know the dog would bite me.”
“Why did it bite you?”
“Because it was a jerk.” She turns her head, looking upward and pointing with her index finger to a tiny scar I never noticed over her eye. “The doctor said another quarter of inch down and I may have lost the ability to see out of this eye.”
I shake my head, inspecting the tiny scar. I hate that it’s there. I hate that I didn’t know her then, that I couldn’t protect her.
Though I suppose that would have been excessively creepy.
“How old were you?” I ask, to be sure.
“Five.”
Yep, creepy.
Oh well, still would’ve shot the damn dog.
Probably her mom and the boyfriend, too. I don’t like any of the people involved in this scenario. Then I could’ve brought her back here where she’d be safe. Maria could’ve raised her along with Cherie. She could’ve been a maid until I got around to snatching her up. Then she would’ve always been around, even before I was ready for her.
“You didn’t answer me,” she points out, drawing my thoughts away from the ludicrous and back to her. “Did you have any animals growing up?”
“How are you at cleaning?”
Shooting me a well-deserved odd look, she asks, “Huh?”
Eh, she was poor, I’m sure she can clean. Wouldn’t have mattered if she did a shoddy job, I guess. I want her around for the brightness she adds to life, not her cleaning capabilities.
I like my version of her life much better. I don’t know for sure if Adrian found signs of prior abuse, but I don’t feel like she was well taken care of either way and it bothers me. I want to retroactively install her in the safe bubble of my house. She could’ve been my Elise. Adrian would’ve liked me more, too, since my attention would’ve been elsewhere and Elise probably would’ve recovered from her interest in me a long time ago. Hell, she and Mia would probably be friends. If they were friends, that would force Adrian to be my friend.
Why does it feel so much better to think of her being in my life sooner, even if I wouldn’t have been with her? She still would have been too young, it’s not like I would have had her in my bed any sooner, but there’s something addictive about her mere presence. I enjoy having her naked in my arms, obviously, but even without the sex, I would want her around. Even if I only saw her at dinner every night when she brought me my salad, I would have been happier.
Is this how Adrian feels about Elise?
I consider some of the times I’ve tortured him with her—not to further an agenda or make a point, but occasionally just to amuse myself. I am a miserable bastard.
Attempting to clear away the crazy alternate life I’m dreaming up, I give my head a faint shake. “Never mind. Yes, I had a puppy once. I was 10. My father surprised me with a Jack Russell terrier.”
Even though she just told me she’s not a dog person, she gets all soft at the thought of a puppy. “Aw. What did you name him?”
“Felix.” I haven’t thought about that dog in years. The last time was when Beth died—the last time I needed a reminder of the lesson I’d been taught then. I didn’t think I was fool enough to repeat the same mistake twice, but as much as I want to, I can’t deny the stirring of feelings I haven’t experienced in years.
Bad feelings. Dangerous feelings. The kind that cost much more in the long run than they’re worth. I’m allowed to keep Mia, but I’m definitely not allowed to fall in love with her. I don’t have the emotional budget to go through something like that again.
Blissfully ignorant of the mental tailspin I’m experiencing, Mia casually remarks, “I like that name.”
“I actually loved that dog.” Her gaze rises to mine, perhaps confused by the unexpected hardness of my tone. I say it like a failing—I hear that, once it’s out.
With a gentle smile, she runs a hand down my chest and assures me, “Your 10-year-old self loving your dog doesn’t lose you any badass points, don’t worry.”
I roll my eyes at the idea of her thinking I was worried about that. I could give a fuck less what level of badass anyone thinks I am. As long as they’re smart enough to fear what I’ll do to them and they stay out of my path, their opinion of me is irrelevant. If they don’t fear me enough to stay out of my way, I’ll show them what a mistake that was.
Either way, I win and they don’t matter.
“I’m trying to envision you as a child, playing fetch with a dog,” she tells me. “I actually can’t envision either of those things. I think I’m going to need to see some proof. Tomorrow you should break out the family photo album and show me that young Mateo existed.”
“We never played fetch,” I say, a bit shortly.
Her gaze darts to mine. She’s confused by the shift in my attitude, but I don’t explain. Now she’s said family photo and I’m remembering the last time I was this fucking stupid. I’m remembering the stupid-ass, godforsaken family Christmas photo that existed once. Our first—and only—formal family photo after Isabella was born. Beth wasn’t happy, but she didn’t hate me yet. One day she came home from shopping with a big-ass grin on her face and a bag full of horrifying green sweaters. She got one for me, one for her, and she found one small enough for Isabella. For obvious reasons, we didn’t do “family photos” in my house growing up. I never liked having my picture taken to begin with, but Beth was so damn excited about it, I couldn’t tell her how stupid I thought it was. I let her book a photographer and set up a Christmas scene. I watched her doll Isabella up with her little green sweater and a headband that covered half her small head, and I sat there for the dumbest thing I’ve ever participated in.
It made Beth happy, so it didn’t matter if it was dumb.
Only the happiness didn’t last, because it never lasts.
Mia in my arms felt nice only a few moments ago, but now I feel like I’m holding a hot poker. I ease my arm out from under her and pull back. I sit up on the edge of the bed for a second to get my bearings, then I stand and go to retrieve my clothing so I can get dressed.
Completely lost, Mia asks, “Are you okay? Did I say something wrong?”
“No,” I say, shaking my head without looking at her. She’s getting too close and I need a little space. I need to go downstairs to my study for a breather.
“I thought you were staying in here today. How come you’re getting dressed?”
“I only took the morning off,” I lie. “It’s time to get back to work now.”
She frowns at me as I pull my clothing on, but she doesn’t argue. She sits on my bed, not even shy now—she doesn’t try to cover herself with blankets or arms.
Finally, she asks softly, “How come you never played fetch with your dog?”
I meet her gaze, mine carefully blank. “Because I only had him for four days. Just long enough for me to grow attached. Then my father killed him in front of me.”
Openly horrified, she gapes at me. “Why would he do something so horrible?”
“To teach me a lesson.” I pull the tie around my neck and begin to secure it. “Love makes you weak.”
“Love doesn’t make you weak,” she disagrees.
The corner of my mouth curves up without humor as I straighten my collar. “Tell that to the 10-year-old whose dog was shot to death for the sin of being loved by him.”
I can see her swallow from here, her blue eyes swimming with sadness. She wasn’t there, she has no stake in any of this, and still she feels sadness for a version of me who never even existed in her lifetime.
Throwing back the blanket, she climbs from the bed and quickly makes her way over to me. She stands on tiptoe, wraps her arms around my neck and hugs me.
“I’m sorry,” she says, simply.
I don’t hug her back, but she still holds onto me for a full minute. I think back to her silly superpower wish, the desire to absorb pain from others. I wonder if she thinks she’s found a p
ocket of mine, if she’s trying to absorb some of it for me.
I wonder why she wants to.
When she finally pulls back, she’s looking up at me with her beautiful heart still in her eyes, glistening with unshed tears. I can’t imagine feeling this much sympathy for another person. Maybe I could once, but I can’t anymore.
I think I felt that for Adrian once, but it’s hard to remember. I blocked most of that out along the way, especially after Beth. After my father’s lessons proved true and what I loved most tried to destroy me.
I can’t look at Mia as I turn away to grab my jacket. I need to get the hell away from her. Her, with her trusting blue eyes and her wide-open heart. She’s young and naïve. She just doesn’t know enough of the world to be any other way.
I’m not sure how I didn’t burn it out of her the other day. I’m not sure how she recovered so quickly.
I do know that I’ll burn her out eventually, and I need to guard myself better than I am right now. Someone like her shouldn’t already be tugging at the lock on my heart, trying to breach the entrance. Everything feels too easy with her and I’m letting Beth happen all over again. Mia is kinder than Beth ever was, but she’s also younger. Eventually she’ll grow up—and she’ll be growing around me, so I’m going to twist her up like I twist everyone up.
Brimming with aggravation at myself, I head for the door and leave without another word.
---
“Good day off?”
I rub my jaw, looking across the desk at Adrian. “Fantastic. What have you got for me?”
Adrian drops into the seat across from my desk. “A bunch of shit.” He passes me a folder he put together on someone named Leroy Weiss. “This is Mia’s childhood abuser.”
My gaze snaps from the folder to him. “So there is one?”
“Yep. Conroy and Hernandez have been called off, but Dante isn’t happy about it. He’s on his way over now.”
I don’t especially care how happy Dante is. I flip open the folder and review the report Adrian threw together for me. I’ll read the whole thing later, but I scan it now for crucial information.