by L. J. Wilson
“Interesting. Distance isn’t the vibe I got when I saw her here.”
“Yeah, well… Your relationship radar’s been off the grid for a while.” He looked at Aaron, who looked completely unconvinced. “Listen, she’s a photojournalist with a passion for adventure. Jess lives for stories in odd corners of the world. I’ve seen all the odd corners. I’m good with my current gig. I’m even better without a significant other.”
Aaron skirted around Alec’s military past. “Fair enough. You like your current work, security detail for celebrities, politicians… whoever. I appreciate that. And in your downtime you…”
Alec tossed the carrot stick back onto a platter. “Don’t fuck my roommate.”
Aaron was one of a few people who would challenge an Alec Clairmont stare.
“Look, I get that Jess is attractive. I have eyes.”
Aaron laughed. “But clearly not the roving wolf drive you did a decade ago.”
“Nothing wrong with my drive, bro. Just wise enough to get that Jess and I are better as friends.” Instead of the carrot, Alec picked up his beer. “Jesus, have you been talking to Honor? She can’t get her head around it either, the friends-roommates only concept.”
“How so?”
“Last time Jess was here, Honor couldn’t believe things were platonic between us. Jess is just coming off a marriage that I’m not too sure is completely over. I mean, she still talks to her ex, or almost ex—Julian… a lot, and it’s not about property settlement. I definitely don’t have an interest in being part of that scene.”
“I guess you don’t,” Aaron said.
“Yeah, well, tell that to Honor,” Alec said, thumbing over his shoulder toward the kitchen. “Your sister, the matchmaker.”
Aaron looked in the same direction. Honor was busy putting the finishing touches on dinner. It was his first Sunday dinner with the family, a tradition started by Evie and Sebastian, and one the Tribe of Five (less Jake) had managed to hang onto. Aaron glanced back again. It was going to be a tribe of three if the youngest Clairmont was a no show. “Alec, what’s the deal with Troy?”
“Other than being a parentless, barely post-teenage kid with a girlfriend, who, I suspect, is really too hot for him to handle?”
“Uh, yeah, that’s not quite what I meant. Chloe Pike is another conversation entirely. Aside from her, what’s his deal? Troy hasn’t said more than ‘Hey’ and ‘Can I have my DVDs back’ since I’ve been here. I’ve tried talking to him, but…”
“I know. I’ve had my own dead-end conversations with him.” Alec’s head tipped right and left, as if mulling over Troy. “But if I recall, you weren’t chatty yourself at that age. When I came home on leave, I remember saying to Mom, ‘What the fuck’s his problem?’”
“You did not say, ‘What the fuck’ to Mom. I know this because you still have a full set of teeth. Pop would have knocked them right out of your head.”
“Yeah, I guess I didn’t say that exactly.” Swiping a celery stick through hummus, Alec continued to reminisce. “’Course, Evie and Sebastian were around then. So maybe I didn’t feel like it was my job to worry about you. Troy’s life is so different from ours, so…”
“So maybe it’s up to us to drill down to what’s in his head. Assuming he shows, maybe we can tag team him. Pop always used dinner as a frontline tactic for information gathering.”
“Maybe.” Alec leaned forward, putting his beer bottle on the table. “Now that I think about it, I do remember what Mom used to say about you. ‘I don’t know what to do with your brother. When he’s home, all he does is stay in his room with the door locked.’ That’s not so different from Troy.”
“Yeah, but I know what I was probably doing.”
Alec laughed, a grin stretching wide. It used to match Aaron’s until a tire-iron, courtesy of one of Silas Brikk’s flunkies, met with the side of his face. Aaron rubbed the span between cheekbone and jaw. The memory wasn’t quite as numb.
“Seems to me, you didn’t turn into you—or anything resembling a functioning human being until you met Ruby.” The carefree mood dropped like an iron weight. A small nudge passed from Alec to Aaron. “Sorry… that was stupid. I shouldn’t have brought her up.”
Aaron dragged in a breath. The mention of Ruby shouldn’t matter. Not one damn bit. “No… no worries, man. It’s okay. It’s bound to come up. Where I was, in prison… Nobody there was going to mention… Ruby,” he said, forcing her name out of his mouth. “On the outside, I just need to deal.”
Alec picked up his beer and put it back down. “You’ve never heard from her. Not a word?”
Aaron’s gaze was trained on the television. If asked, he couldn’t repeat the score or what game they were watching. “No… not even a ‘fuck you for trying to kill my father’ Christmas card.” He turned sharply toward Alec. “Can you blame her?”
His answer surprised Aaron. “A little. I know how she felt about you.”
“You think she should have forgiven me for trying to blow her old man’s brains out?”
“No story is black and white, and that’s how she chose to look at it—the black side of the story. I would have thought, at some point, Ruby would have wanted to hear your side of things.”
“My side of things? I don’t have a side, Alec. Stop trying to find one. In the course of a few hours, Ruby learned I was a major player—the hometown drug dealer. Worse, my mission that night was to take out the mayor, a man she idolized. It… it was an unforgivable betrayal.” Aaron stared at his hand, the scars from the pins and screws that held it together. There was no point in deviating from the court’s truth or his family’s. “It’s who I was. Accept it.”
Alec dragged a hand through his thick hair. “I can’t. This is where you lose me, Aaron. That’s not you. Not my brother. I still don’t understand…”
“Let it go,” Aaron hissed, glancing toward Honor. “It was a no win situation. I did what I had to.”
“So you’ve said. But none of it makes sense. Not you being a main-line heroin dealer or laundering money through Nickel Springs. Definitely not the part about your plan to put a bullet through Dante Vasquez. Even if the people you were working for had you by the balls—”
“You know nothing about the people I worked for,” Aaron said through gritted teeth. “Let it go.”
Alec’s hand pressed to the air. “Okay… But I know this. You would have done anything for that girl—anything but hurt her like that.”
“Yeah, well, maybe that’s why drug dealers and lawyers all belong in the same place—the bottom of a shark tank.” Aaron offered one more thought. “Ruby’s gone, living her life somewhere else. I’m glad she got the hell out of here.” Aaron wanted to say he hoped she was happy, but he couldn’t get the words past the swell in his throat. He took a long gulp of his beer. “She didn’t have to hear the gossip, put up with the stares. She didn’t have to be that girl—the one Aaron Clairmont fucked over good.”
“Aaron don’t…”
Aaron bolted upright from the sofa. He needed to stand. He wanted to climb out of his own skin. The best he could do was to fling his beer bottle at the growing recycle pile, the sound of colliding glass filling the air.
From the adjoining kitchen, Honor’s eyes jerked from Aaron to Alec.
“Sorry,” he said. “It slipped.” He looked back at his brother. “Hating me, it’s where Ruby should have ended up.” He felt Alec’s stare as his own burned through the adjacent wall. “A guy like me, I was replaceable. Dante Vasquez lived that night. I died. In the end, it’s all that mattered.”
Alec was quiet, letting game-day noises run the room. “Sit,” he said, opening another beer. He held it out to his brother. “Let’s, uh… let’s just talk about something else, okay? How, um… how’s the new gig at Abstract Enchantment?”
Aaron took the beer and sat—time served had that effect. It made it possible to ignore everything exploding inside a person and follow basic instructions. “It… it’s fine.”
“And the people?”
Aaron shrugged, watching the game, drinking the beer. “The guy I answer to, Tully, he’s all right. Typical hardhat. His, uh, mood… revolves around the success of his lunchtime Keno bets and if he imagines Shauna, the very out of his league woman who runs the office, is checking him out.”
“So, in other words, a no-brainer to deal with.”
“Tully? No. He definitely doesn’t require an FBI profiler.” Aaron looked toward Honor. She smiled, fussing over something that smelled damned good. “What’s not so clear is the dude in charge… Stefan Gerard. You met him?”
“Only at your homecoming. But I’ve heard Honor talk. I got the impression she had a thing for him.”
“Definitely… me too,” Aaron said, his interest piquing. “Did you know he’s engaged?”
It was Alec’s turn to glance over the back of the sofa. “Seriously?”
“Yeah, in fact, his love nest has been my ‘special project,’ getting the adjoining suite ready. The will-be wife arrives soon. My guess is she’s going to be the definition of high maintenance. The place looks like a satin-covered sex cave. But you’re right. I got the same vibe off Honor. When I mentioned his engagement, she looked like a deer in headlights. Then she faked it pretty good, acted like it was no big deal.”
“Do you think there is… or was something going on between them?”
“Honor insisted not. Stefan said the same thing in a roundabout way. I guess it was just a mixed signal. Still…”
“Still what?” Alec sat up straighter, Aaron seeing his brother’s special ops radar go up.
“The guy’s a fucking curiosity. I don’t know, maybe it’s the European edge—something I don’t get.” Aaron shook his head. “He’s been here and gone—a few days at Abstract Enchantment, then back to the city. It’s hard getting a solid read off a moving target. On the surface, Stefan’s hasn’t been anything but straight with me.”
“But something’s telling you otherwise.”
“That’s just it. Stefan’s not doing anything that should make me suspicious. When I see him, he asks if I’m liking the job. He even talks about what I’ll be doing after all the construction is complete. He’s like this self-anointed prisoner-to-the-streets transition team.”
“And that’s not a possibility?”
“Alec, I’ve sat across from those guys. Trust me. Benevolence is not part of Gerard’s natural skill set.”
“What’s the take from the other employees?”
“The usual complaints. Tully and his crew, they see him as a suit in the current blue-collar environment. But they’re coming from a different place. Stefan’s only signing their paychecks, not offering a second chance. He’s not neck-deep in their sister’s livelihood.”
“I see your point,” Alec said. “But if there’s something off… Honor’s about to throw a good chunk of her business into Abstract Enchantment. This contract with Gerard is a big deal.”
“Yeah, I know. I haven’t said anything to her because…” Aaron glanced over his shoulder again. “Well, because there’s really nothing to say. For now, the best I can do is keep my mouth shut and my ears open. Honor’s smart. But she also likes to see the best in people. So I don’t think we’re being too big-brother by keeping tabs on the situation.”
“Sounds like you’re in a good position to do that—I mean, being as you’re in charge of Stefan Gerard’s love nest and all.” Aaron laughed at his brother’s remark, but Alec didn’t. Instead, his brow knotted tight and his stare turned examining.
“What?” Aaron said.
“I was just thinking, the way you’ve been talking… It’s a lot of concern from a guy who insists he’s a would-be killer.”
Aaron and Alec had moved into the kitchen where Honor fussed over a meal that looked like a Middle-Age feast. In between, she sipped a glass of wine. “You know, we can do more than set the table,” Aaron said.
“Uh, thanks Mr. Marie Claire. But I’ll do the cooking. You guys can clean up.”
“What, um, what is that?” Alec asked, peering past the salad he’d been given permission toss.
“Cornish game hens.”
Both brothers wriggled broad noses. Before Alec broke his, they were fairly identical. “You mean those scrawny chickens for half a person?”
“Are we rationing food?” Alec added.
“Stop. It’ll be delicious… I hope,” she said more faintly, tending to pots of boiling water before grating an orange. “And I made you each two. I need willing guineas pigs.”
“Because?” Alec said.
“Because I need to try it out before adding it to the corporate taste-testing menu.” Honor stuck her pinkie finger into the sauce where she’d stirred in the orange peel. Tasting it, she made a sour face and reached into the spice cabinet. Aaron watched, recalling having dipped a pinkie finger or two into far more dangerous substances. “In some ways,” she said, “it does feel like my contract comes down to a Cornish game hen…” With a container marked Pumpkin Spice in hand, Honor gave it a healthy shake and stirred the concoction. She glanced up, catching her brothers’ curious stares. “Anyway, Stefan is particular—and he should be. He wants to impress the corporate team with a full sampling of Honor’s Guests’ creations. It’s not an unreasonable request. Not at this level.”
“Listen, if Stefan doesn’t think your cooking is top-shelf—salmon puffs through chocolate mousse… to whatever the hell you’ve got going there,” Aaron said, pointing, “he’s an ass.”
“Thanks.” Honor sipped her wine and tasted the sauce again. “Better,” she said, smiling. “I have a lot riding on this. Aside from the Abstract Enchantment contract, there’s Stefan’s offer to personally invest. It’s a huge opportunity, you know?”
Aaron nodded, smiling back. As long as Stefan stayed inside the lines, he saw no reason to add to Honor’s stress. And if Stefan did have an agenda that involved Honor, Aaron was sure he’d have it figured out before she signed any contracts. “So is dinner soon? Or should I open another beer?”
Honor glanced at the kitchen clock. “I was hoping Troy would show. I can’t imagine what’s keep—” On her words, the kitchen door swung open. Aaron watched a lankier, maybe more brooding, version of himself walk through. “You’re late,” Honor said. “I mean, I thought you’d be home an hour ago.”
Troy held up a gallon of milk with two fingers. Silently, he crossed through the kitchen and deposited the jug into the refrigerator. Apparently, he wasn’t into eye contact either, stopping at the end of the breakfast bar and flipping through the mail. A round of glances passed between his older siblings. Troy shrugged off his leather jacket and dropped it onto the barstool.
Alec picked it up. “You missed the coatrack. Your sister isn’t your maid.” Whether it was size differential, age, or pure intimidation, Troy followed the instruction. But as he grabbed up the jacket, Aaron saw a tattoo on his forearm. It looked raw and fresh. He also knew it looked like trouble.
“Hey, Troy, give me a hand,” Honor said.
He brushed by his brothers, pushing down his shirtsleeve as he went.
Honor passed him a platter that looked like it belonged in a foodie magazine spread. “Oh shoot, I wanted to try a California chardonnay with this—2011 vintage. Stefan recommended it.” She saw her brothers’ unimpressed expressions. “I think he’s part owner of the vineyard.” Their faces remained equally blasé. “Oh, never mind. I’ll get it. It’s in the garage fridge.”
“No, let me,” Alec said. He offered a backward glance, exiting through the service porch and out to the detached garage.
“Thanks,” she called after him. “So, Troy, how was work?”
“Fine.” He glanced at his brother and sister. “What? It’s a pizza place. We didn’t get robbed. That would be the only news worth reporting.” As Troy made his way to the table, Aaron got a solid whiff of him. His brother should have smelled like pepperoni. Instead, it was a potent combination of liquor and
perfume. He recognized it—a flowery scent that had stayed in his nose long after Chloe Pike exited his bathroom.
“Did you come here straight from work?” he asked.
“No.”
The three of them sat, and Aaron waited for Honor to ask for further explanation. She didn’t.
Troy finally obliged. “You saw me come in with the milk. Explanation enough for you?” he said, challenging Aaron.
The phone rang, and Honor squinted at the caller I.D. “I need to get that. It’s my produce man. I’m setting up my first delivery for Abstract Enchantment.”
Aaron and Troy padded her exit with two forced smiles. Honor moved toward the foyer, talking about morel mushrooms and out of season strawberries. After that it was all crickets and cutlery sounds. Aaron’s knife finally hit his plate with a clank that demanded Troy’s attention. “No, I don’t think it is—enough explanation. Do they serve liquor at Manny’s?”
“What?”
“You smell like a bottle of 80-proof scotch.”
Troy’s stare didn’t back down. “I had a drink with a friend before coming home. Did you plan on shooting me for that?”
The dig was evident, but Aaron ignored it.
“I don’t need shit from you—bro. Honor freaks if I’m doing anything but the straight and narrow. She gets mega bent when I mention shit like stopping off somewhere. So I don’t.” He narrowed his eyes. “Can’t fucking imagine what puts those kinds of ideas in her head, can you?”
Aaron kept his cool. No way was a twenty-one-year-old punk kid, even if he was his brother, going to rattle him. “You’re of age. And we know I was doing plenty worse back then. So forget the booze. You’re right—it’s not a big deal. How about you explain this instead?” He grabbed Troy’s arm in a grip that said the kid might as well be handcuffed. Aaron shoved up his shirtsleeve. “That’s a gang symbol, bro—or do you want to tell me it’s the family crest at Manny’s Pizzeria?”
“Fuck you,” Troy spat back. He reclaimed his arm, but only because Aaron willingly gave up possession. “I don’t have to explain any body art to you. At least I wear my ink out and proud.”