Honesty (Mark of Nexus) (4 page)

The Neon Tavern was busy, even for a Saturday night.

People packed every stale corner, anxious to escape their workweeks within the confines of a darkened room—accented by multi-colored lights. Some local band was rocking out on stage, but I didn’t have time to enjoy the ambience. I was a man on a mission.

The mission objective had to be a head shorter than me, with curves in all the right places. Nothing like Rachel…

Whoa, what happened to compartmentalizing? Work before pleasure.

“You here alone?” someone asked to my left.

I glanced over my shoulder, gave the girl a once-over, and sighed. “No.”

“So, you’re
not
alone?”

“I’m not interested,” I clarified. “No time. Sorry.”

She made a sourpuss face and rolled her eyes. “I wasn’t either. I was just asking.”

“Right.”

I sidled up to the bar, not bothering to wait for her answer. For whatever reason, I was anxious to get this whole thing over with—which, admittedly, felt weird since I knew I’d be getting laid.

The woman at my right smirked into her glass without looking at me. “I think you just made a mistake—”

My eyes did a full recognizance mission before she even knew I’d checked her out. Approximate height, maybe. Same figure. Her chestnut hair would definitely fit into a skullcap for the wig…

“—but it’s none of my business,” she finished with a shrug.

“How so?” I waved to the bartender.

She tilted her head back, gesturing toward the woman I’d just dismissed. “I saw her come in with a pack of Barbies earlier. I bet you ten bucks one of them just got dumped, and they’re looking to distract her with a night of binge drinking and duck face pics.”

I blinked. “So?”

“So, you blow off one, you lose your shot with all of them. Plus, they’ll probably cockblock you the rest of the night out of spite.”

Huh.
I leaned back to take her in. “Then why don’t you let me buy you a drink? From the way you talk, it sounds like you’re the only chick in this bar who hasn’t been compromised.”

Her shoulders lifted again. “If you insist.”

The bartender wandered over. “Hey, what can I get you?”

I picked up my new companion’s glass and took a careful whiff of its contents. “Uh…”

“Captain and Coke,” she supplied, amusement tugging at her features.

“What she said.” I bumped my fist on the counter. “Just a water for me.”

He nodded. “You got it.”

“So tell me…” I set the woman’s glass down and raised my eyebrows, waiting for her to fill in the blanks.

“Jovon.”

“Jovon,” I repeated. “What’re you doing here at the bar, by yourself, on a Saturday night? Is your boyfriend out of town?”

She grinned. “Oh, that’s clever, Mr. Anonymous.”

“Sorry.” I held my hand out. “Cole Blake.”

She took it with a firmer grasp than Rena’s freckled friend had earlier, pulling me closer. “Nice to meet you.”

“Same here. Now how about that question?”

Her lips twitched. “How about it?”

Did Wallace and I have some smartass triplet that I wasn’t aware of? I reached back and pulled out my wallet. “Do you have a boyfriend?”

“I have a lot of friends who are boys. None I feel particularly accountable to, though.”

I threw a twenty on the bar, narrowly avoiding a wet ring. “Good to know.”

“Isn’t it? Maybe we can rig up a shooting star out of all this neon—make our very own PSA.” She winked.

Speaking of lights, I think I just got a green one to depantsify this one.

“Here we go, guys.” The bartender slid two glasses across the bar and scooped up my twenty.

“No change.” I waved him off, hoping it’d get me a quicker exit.

He paused for a moment. Not used to decent, non-plastered tippers, no doubt. “Thanks, man.”

“Trying to impress me, big spender?” Jovon spun around on her stool, tossing her hair back.

“Maybe.”

This chick was quick with the wit. I liked it. Hell, maybe she could be my next two-to-five before I made a formal pass at Rachel.
Regular sex with someone who shares my sense of humor? Yes, please. Let’s bag and tag thi—

Someone tapped me on my shoulder.

I turned back to find a chick with bleach blonde hair and black, matted eyelashes. “Yes?”

“I think you need to apologize to my friend over there.” She pointed to the pack Jovon had warned me about, and they all glared daggers on cue.
Reow.
“She’s had a really crappy day, and she doesn’t need some…some
man
to objectify her.”

“What about a woman?” Jovon cut in. “I could try it, if you like.”

I reached for my drink to cover a bark of laughter.

“Why don’t you turn around and mind your own business?” The blonde straightened in her stilettos, puffing out her chest.

“Why don’t you go burn a cock effigy?”

“This doesn’t concern you.”

“Maybe I don’t like you sniffing around my man.”

Her man?
A little alarm bell sounded in my head, but I ignored it.

The blonde held up her hand and whirled around. “Whatever. I hope you choke on your drink, bitch.”

“After you teach me to swallow, cumbucket!” Jovon yelled back, jumping to her feet.

Where had my snarky little drinking buddy gone? Did she really just hulk out into a crazy, possessive stranger? Next thing, someone would tell me Santa wasn’t real.

“Oookay now.” I put my hands on her shoulders and steered her toward the exit. “Why don’t we ditch this place? No sense making a scene when there’s work to be done.”

“Work?” She craned her neck back.

“I meant fun,” I lied, groaning in my head. “I actually live nearby, if you want to hang out.”

“Sure. Why not?”

“Exactly. Why not?”

Jovon scared me.

I didn’t even need to sell the fantasy. The chick got a bottle of gas station wine in her, and the next thing I knew, she was donning the wig and panties while running laps around my apartment.

“Victory for the United States!” She did another slide-by in her socks, skidding into the hallway. The Browns throw she’d been holding over her head fell around her shoulders, and she cracked up laughing. “I’d give myself bronze, that time…”

“Right,” I said, taking a slow drag from my seat on the counter. Thanks to the whole parents-getting-killed-by-a-drunk-driver thing, I wasn’t a huge fan of alcohol. In other people, yes. It was cheap entertainment. But sadly, I couldn’t share their delusions.

My body would probably metabolize it in two seconds anyway.

“You wanna take this into the bedroom, doll?” I hopped down and put my cig out in a mug. “We can go for the gold in bedroom gymnastics.”

She swung around the doorframe, the dark wig fanning around her bare shoulder. Dead serious. “Have you qualified?”

Where do I find these nut jobs?

With a shrug, I pulled at the bottom hem of my shirt. “You tell me.”

It was a cheap ploy, but I knew it’d shut her up about this Olympic shit. Inch by inch, I raised the cotton, revealing the benefit of my Dynari lineage—abs to rival the Greek gods for which the games were established. They were probably related to my ancestors, anyway.

That sobered her up.

I jerked the shirt over my head and threw it on the floor, about to take one for the team. Or Tits, at least. This video was going to give us job security. Plus, it’d get me closer to my brother. Closer to ERA’s headquarters.

Closer to Rachel.

Her name triggered the thousand memories my brain had somehow managed to capture in two minutes of interaction. The way the sunlight played with her hair and the easy way she smiled. How her eyes were kind, but a little…sad.

“What’s the matter?” Jovon asked, startling me with ice-cold fingers against my skin. “Stage fright?”

I swallowed, shoving all of my thoughts into a box. “You only get stage fright when you doubt your ability to perform.”

She fumbled with my fly. “And?”

“And,” I continued, stilling her hands with mine. “It’s not my first Olympics.”

Creases branched out from her grinning eyes. “Then let the games begin.”

I grunted, edging around her to grab the car battery I’d left out. “All right, bring that licorice off the counter. Oh, and the chili pepper. I think I’ve still got working cables in my bedroom…”

When she didn’t follow, I glanced over my shoulder. “What?”

“Nothing.” She shook her head, an amused smile playing at her lips. “Anything else?”

“Just one more thing.” I took a breath, pulled out my phone, and hit the record button. “Mind if I call you boss?”

You don’t want to
ever
burn your nipples. You just don’t.

It was bad enough when Teresa had wanted to do the weird stuff, but recreating it was worse. Thankfully, we managed to pull it off. After Jovon slept off the booze, I bought her McBreakfast and took her back to her car. Clean break.

Sort of.

She might’ve thrown herself at me in the parking lot, and I might’ve pulled a Houdini on her. That was unfortunate. In fact, if I hadn’t blown her mind Saturday night, I might’ve felt a little bad. But I didn’t.

Sunday morning was spent editing footage. Hours and hours of footage. I kept the usable shit, printed off a few stills, and deleted everything else. I didn’t even keep the panties. It was too weird, even by my standards.

Tits emailed me around noon with his findings on Rachel. Needless to say, I now had her phone number—along with last semester’s grades, her tax records, and an x-ray from when she broke her collarbone in third grade. Good ol’ Titsy.

Another trip up to Cleveland gave me the opportunity to peruse three bachelor pads that afternoon. The first one was a modern high-rise. Granite countertops, stainless steel appliances—the whole shebang. Gorgeous, but a little soul sucking.

The second was a stately complex with up-to-code ramps, in a quiet suburb. I didn’t even have to go inside that one. It’d be crawling with old people, and then I’d have curious types making note of every time I came and went at odd hours. Not exactly conducive to my lifestyle.

Finally, I stopped by a brick walk-up downtown. It was a little older than the previous two, but it had personality. Seemed like a tough old bastard who wouldn’t give up his spot to the younger punks crowding the neighborhood.

So, which one did I choose?

God, I need to stop watching HG-TV when I’m trying to fall asleep
. The third one. I chose the third one. It was high enough to keep tabs on my part of the city, but not so high that Titsy and I would die fiery deaths if someone left their oven on. Plus, the area was strung with lights and full of nightlife. Done deal.

Monday morning brought the task of tying things up in Columbus, which was easier said than done. Fun fact—very few people recognize their own backs. This is especially helpful when you want to blackmail someone with a forged sex tape. Say, your boss…

Teresa’s nostrils flared five times before she even allowed herself to look at me. When she did, the snorting bull routine didn’t fade. Instead, she fisted her perfectly manicured hands and met my gaze with fiery determination. “Get out.”

“Easy there,” I coaxed, leaning against the side of her desk. “I didn’t know it’d be such an unflattering angle.”

“
Cole.
”

Wow. With a voice like that, maybe I should’ve brought an exorcist. Who knew evidence of our fun, but fictional, time together would elicit this much of a response?

“I will make the arrangements.” Her words were slow, deliberate. If I didn’t know any better, I’d think I was forcing her to say them under duress. “But what I need you to do is stay
the hell
away from me. Now. Tomorrow. The next day. I do not want to see your face in my doorway. I do not want to hear your voice in the hall. If I so much as see a printout with your name on it, I will go postal on everyone. Do I make myself clear?”

“Crystal.” I grinned, sauntering out. “You got it.”

The rest of the day passed by in blurred victory, and before I knew it, it was time to head down to Scion. Yes, I have a dinner date with my grandma once a week, and yes, I’ll kick anyone’s ass who dares to breathe a word about it. So, suck it.

The woman raised me, and despite everything I’ve done, she always welcomes me back with open arms. I waltz through that door, and I’m fourteen again—muddy from riding bikes with Wallace and already thinking of excuses to get out of my homework. Life is simpler, slower.

Of course, the feeling never lasts long. Once Grandma ushers me in, looking frailer each time around, I’m ripped back to the present. Suddenly, I’m a full-grown man with a whole host of problems.

And I hate it.

Grandma pulled the lid off her slow cooker, releasing waves of steam to taunt the smoke detector. “Something wrong, dear?”

Like I could answer that. Not only was the woman a fully matured empath, she also had the minor gift of discernment. She always knew when I was lying.

“No.” Yet I still did it.

“You need to quit running around on those errands of yours,” she went on, unbothered. “You look exhausted. We do have a police department, you know.”

“Yes, and they’re
so
effective.”

I collapsed into the nearest chair and rubbed my neck. Maybe I
was
exhausted. With everything going on—the break-up, blackmailing my boss, trying to keep tabs on ERA and their virus—my life had become a clusterfuck of gloom. Not to mention the fact that this could be one of my last weekly dinners with Grandma.

Ah, shit. I still need to broach that subject.

“Okay, I guess something
is
wrong.” I cleared my throat and stood up to get the plates. “My boss is transferring to Cleveland, and the guy who’s taking over hates me.”

She didn’t even flinch. “What did you do to him?”

“Nothing, Grandma. Geez.” I chuckled under my breath, reaching to open the cabinet next to her.

“Uh huh.”

“Okay, we got into a fender bender last year. The point is, he’s going to can me as soon as she’s gone, and I need that job.”

But I don’t want to leave you alone.

She stirred the pot, swirling pork chops smothered in gravy. “Can you transfer up north to the same office your current boss is going to?”

I blinked. “Well, yeah, but…I’d have to move up there.”

“So?”

A warm, herb-scented cloud wafted over, burning my eyes. “So, I’d be living in Cleveland. Wallace, Henry, Edwin, me—hell, even Faye would be up north.”

“Honey.” She put the spoon down and clasped my arm. “I love you, but I survived long before you came along. I know how to take care of myself.”

“Yeah, but…”

Shit.
I hadn’t thought this part out. Grandma was in her seventies now; I didn’t want her hours away from everyone in the family.

“Now, now.” She squeezed my arm one last time before walking over to dish the potatoes. “Be a good boy and hand me those plates.”

I begrudgingly passed them off before setting the rest of the table. Why was I the only one upset about this situation? Didn’t she realize how lonely it was going to be down here by herself? What if something happened?

The universe loved to rip people away from me. It was only a matter of time before it came for her and Wallace. Hell, maybe even Rena now. I was like the angel of fucking death.

“Do you want corn?”

“What?”

She held up a heaping plate with her lips pressed in a tight, quivering line. “I asked if you want corn.”

“You don’t have to make my plate, Grandma. Let me—”

“No!” She jerked it away from my reach. “Let me help you, Nicholas.”

“Then yes.” I let out a heavy breath and sat down. “Yes to the corn. Thank you.”

An uneasy silence fell between us as she finished up. I swear, she wiped every damn inch of countertop down before settling across the table from me. For once, I cursed getting passed over by the empath line.

“I could get you an apartment near mine,” I told her, cramming a piping spoonful into my mouth. “Reh-rey. I co—”

“Please don’t talk with your mouth full.”

I swallowed. “Really. I could get the money. Tits—I mean, Larry—will have to transfer, too. If he and I crash together, we could split the rent. Then I’d be able to put you up nearby.”

“Sweetie, I couldn’t possibly do that.”

“Why?”

Her smile sagged as her gaze shifted elsewhere. “I can’t leave this house behind.”

“Not even for your family?”

“Let me tell you a story.” She sighed and leaned across the table. “Your grandpa Freddie and I bought this place after Russell married your mother. With him gone, off raising his own family, our nest felt bigger than what we needed. So, we moved here. Then the unthinkable happened, and you kids came to stay with us. I worried it was too old and small to raise two boys…”

I put my fork down. “So, what changed your mind?”

Tears shone in her eyes as she smiled at me. “You did. Wallace didn’t speak for weeks after the funeral, and you were inconsolable. I felt terrible because I didn’t know how to help either one of you. Finally, you marched up to me one day and said, ‘Grandma, can we stay here forever? ‘Cause I don’t think Wallace knows if it’s okay to call it home or not.’ You always did that. Too tough to voice your worries as your own.”

A lump formed in my throat, and I gave her a little smile back. I could barely recall anything from back then—we were only eight years old—but I sure as hell remembered how it felt. Hollow. Aching. Missing something I didn’t even fully realize was gone.

“So, while I appreciate your offer, I just can’t sell this place.” She reached across the table and patted my hand. “I want you boys to always have somewhere you can call home. Somewhere you can fall back on, if you need to.”

Holy shit. I wasn’t moving.

I nodded without saying a word. There was no way to argue against what she’d said. I’d just have to make this work somehow. Commute five hours a day, kill Steve No-dick, get a different job and blackmail my new boss—something. Grandma needed this place, and we still needed her.

Unless…

“What if we moved the house?” I asked her.

Her brows pinched. “What?”

“The house. The whole house. What if I paid to have it physically moved? You know, excavator, hydraulic jacks—everything. What if we took our house and put it in Cleveland?”

She lowered her gaze from mine, crinkling her forehead. “They could…? No, it must be terribly expensive. And it’s a ludicrous notion. No, no. I’m fine here.”

“They can,” I assured her. This time, it was me leaning across the table. “I can get the money, I swear. Just say the word, and I’ll find a way to make this happen.”

“It’s tempting.” She licked her cracked lips and took another sip of water. “But no. Not with your blood money, Nicholas.”

My nostrils flared as I drew a breath. “It’s
not
blood money. I have a job.”

“Is realty really paying that much, these days?”

“I take on a few side gigs here and there.” I forced myself to shrug, feigning a nonchalance I didn’t feel. “Private security and the like.”

“For whom?”

“I can’t discuss that.”

“Of course not.”

Drop it. Just drop it.

Grandma heaved a sigh and started eating again. “So, did something happen with your brother this week? He seemed very distressed over something, but he hasn’t returned my calls yet. I know he had a test on Thursday.”

Way to go, Wall-ass. Leave me to clean up your mess again.

“Yeah, uh…he and Rena are having problems.”

Her face fell. “Oh, no. What kind of problems?”

“The kind that force them to stay away from each other for an indefinite period of time?” I winced.

Grandma went slack-jawed.

I set my fork back down and gave her the short version of what had gone down. Faye had sent one of her minions to form a wedge between Wallace and Rena, playing on their insecurities. It came to a head at the festival over what turned out to be a misunderstanding, and they broke up—for now. I probably should’ve taken the time to explain the whole Nullari and Augari development, but my head was throbbing. Too many things to look into. Too many things to settle. I’d be lucky to finish dinner without spontaneously combusting.

“That’s terrible,” Grandma muttered, wiping her mouth with her napkin. “She was just…made for him, you know?”

Oh, I knew. I’d realized it a half second after I’d kissed her in the warehouse.

“Yeah, I wouldn’t worry too much. They just need to get their shit—”

“Nicholas!”

I pressed my lips together, drew a deep breath, and started again. “They just need to get their stuff worked out.”

“I suppose you’re right.”

Silence.

“Speaking of working things out…” She took a bite of potatoes. “Have you been attending your therapy sessions?”

I checked my reaction, even though she’d sense my unease. “When my schedule allows.”

Her lips pulled down. “It only helps if you put in the effort.”

“I know.”

After I’d borrowed Rena for the greater good back in January, Grandma had insisted I see some shrink downtown. She said it would be better for me to have someone objective to vent to, instead of acting on impulse all the time.
Right.

“When is your next appointment?”

“Well, I missed my last one, so I should probably reschedule…” I couldn’t help but flinch at her eager expression. “…for tomorrow.”

“Marvelous!”

Yeah, marvelous. One more thing to deal with.

The rest of the meal was uneventful. Thank God. We finished up, she washed the dishes, I put everything away, and then we said our weekly goodbyes. I reached for the doorknob, but hesitated when I felt her hand on my shoulder.

“Oh, and Nicolas?”

“Yeah?” I turned around.

“I’ll think about it.”

I raised an eyebrow.

She gestured around the kitchen. “The house. The moving. If you come across a legitimate way to get that money together…I’ll think about it. Just know that I intend on paying every penny back.”

My lips twitched, but I played it cool. Grinning would only plant more doubt, and besides, she had the minor gift of discernment. However I phrased my reply, it had to be the truth. “I
won’t do anything you’d disapprove of, Grandma.” I leaned in for a quick hug and whispered, “I promise.”

But Tits will.