CHAPTER SIX


The night wore on with relative ease. Which surprised myself. Carter had
allowed me the venue to be with them, but it had been Tray's acceptance that
settled the shoulders of the girls.


The benefit passed with the minimal entertainment, much to the chagrin of
whoever had planned the actual comedic and musical talent. And Taryn was treated
as a star as more than a few business sponsors approached her. Her agent proved
to take most of her attention and the remaining three had congregated around our
table for the rest of the time.


Mandy and Carter moved to the dancefloor often enough to show Mandy's thrill
for dancing and Carter's thrill to make her happy.


I commented on it and Tray laughed. "Taryn thinks you're here to break them
up. I told her to leave it alone."


"And she listened to you?"


"I told her that you struck me as a person who can read the situation. She's
avoiding you now because she feels bad."


"Why?"


"Taryn doesn't know how to…," He chose his words wisely. "Talk to people who
she doesn't understand."


"She doesn't know me. How's she supposed to understand me?"


Tray leaned forward across the table and clarified, "If Taryn were in your
position, she'd either leave or she'd lash out. You haven't done either of them
so she doesn't know what to say and because she's trying to learn how to curb
her tongue, she's just avoiding you."


"So she's a fighter?"


"Taryn is a fighter indeed."


"When'd you realize that you first loved her?"


Tray had been given enough time to sift through our earlier conversation. He
wasn't surprised at the question or my boldness. And he answered easily, "Taryn
stole something for a prank that I was doing with some guys. She walked right up
to our hidden spot because we thought we were so smart to hide our trucks where
we did, but she got the jump on us. She just walked right up to us. It was…I
fell in love with her then."


She outplayed him at his game and she hadn't held back. That's what I read
between the lines.


I opened my mouth again, but Tray gave a brisk shake of his head.


"No more." He told me. "You're not getting anymore out of me."


"Is that what I'm doing?"


"Not on purpose, but you are. Taryn's peeved that you got more out of me in
one conversation than she did in a month of sleeping with me."


Taryn conquered those in her life and those surrounding her. People came into
her life and she cast them out if they deemed untrustworthy. I wove in and
around all forms of humans. I played on their playground, but I ultimately moved
them to my own. No one realized it until the end and more than a few had called
me a mastermind.


"Conversation can be quite enlightening if you know the right words." I
noted.


Tray grinned, "And we're back to words again, huh?"


"Well…I'm here at the request of Carter Sethlers with his best friend to keep
me company. I'm not vying for an early evening home, if that's what you're
thinking."


Tray frowned, but exclaimed a moment later, "Gotcha. You're just trying to
carry a conversation and I'm not helping."


"Granted." I said ruefully. "I tend to ask the deep questions. Habit of the
trade."


"To take same of that credit, I'm not so much of a conversationalist myself
either. In fact, Taryn wants me to venture out more, try to make amends with
Mandy."


I cocked my head back and regarded him. "But you don't give a shit about
that, do you."


His smile was instant.


"No." He sighed. "No, I don't, but Taryn does."


"And you give a shit about her."


"Yes." He sighed. "Yes, I do."


"You wanna know something that helps me?"


Tray looked surprised, but he listened.


"Figure out why Taryn loves her so much. When you have that figured out and
you see why she makes Taryn happy—you'll want to make an effort."


"You're pretty wise for a counselor."


It hadn't been the first time he questioned my occupation.


"You don't believe me, do you?" I asked. "About my job. You don't believe
that I'm from the Hope Center."


"No." Tray clarified. "I believe that. It's just—you don't have sappy
counselor eyes. You got eyes like…you've seen more than your fair share."


"I have, but it's why I'm where I am today."


"I got that." He nodded and turned his attention back to the dancefloor. "I
got that."


He lied to me, just now he lied to me and I stopped to wonder why.


Taryn dropped into her chair at that moment and distracted us both.


"Let's get out of here before I have to talk to one more fucking idiot. I
swear." She exclaimed and leaned into Tray's arm as he circled her shoulders and
pulled her close.


She caught my stare and remarked, dryly, "I've been avoiding you."


Blunt and to the point, that was how Taryn Matthews was. Her reputation stood
true.


I said evenly, "I know and I know why."


Tray excused himself and Taryn announced when he left, "My boyfriend likes
you and Tray doesn't like anyone."


Her guard was up, but the respect was there. She trusted her boyfriend and
what he saw.


"Tray's a genius. He thinks about things that I would never dream about." She
added and sighed as she watched him laugh with his best friend.


I said softly, "He said the same about you."


Taryn's eyes whipped to mine, startled and suspicious.


I added, "I'm a counselor, Taryn. That's what I've been trained in. I asked
him about you and he told me. Simple as that."


Her eyes flashed, "Tray doesn't talk to anyone."


I wanted her off-balance so I noted as I leaned back in my chair again,
relaxed, "Where I work, I see a lot of you. You lived a life that was hard and
you have reason to be suspicious. I think I'm reacting to that because I know
you're suspicious of anyone who could break through your boyfriend's tough
exterior."


Taryn smiled at that and relaxed slightly. "Not really." She shook her head.
"Maybe jealous. He told you more in one sitting than he did to me in one month
maybe."


I didn't have words for that except that I knew what words to say.


"Your sister will be a great counselor." I murmured.


Taryn waited.


I continued, "But she's still got a problem that she's gotta kick."


Taryn glanced at me, startled, but receptive.


"She's not fully real yet. She's gotta be real before she can do what I
do."


"What do you mean? She's not fully real yet?" Her eyes were sharp.


"You know." I caught and held her gaze steadily. I knew Taryn knew what I
meant. How could she not after all she'd been through in her life.


Her sister was still hiding, but from what—who knew. Mandy might not even
know that herself, but she hadn't accepted herself fully. That meant she was
still hiding a part of her behind. That small part needed to be realized and
acknowledged. Mandy needed to integrate that person inside of her into her
life.


Until then, she'd be operating her work hiding a part of herself.


Any junkie, alcoholic, would tune into that weakness and exploit it. Mandy
needed to know all aspects of herself before she could be a tool to help
others.


She wasn't fully real.


And neither was I, not in the here and now, with them.


Taryn went on the offensive and she asked, "If you're such a great counselor,
tell me what you think about me. I want to know if I'm 'fully real' or not."


She hadn't liked hearing constructive criticism about her sister.


I sighed, "You really want to know?"


"I do." Taryn replied shortly. "Fucking hand it over."


"Fine." And I spoke as my eyes held hers enraptured, "You come off all
bad-ass, but I know where that came from. You had to survive and so you go on
the attack, like you did just now. That tells me that you came from a home or
many homes where it was pretty shitty. You were probably ridiculed, maybe
beaten, maybe even worse like abuse. Mental, of course, but probably physical or
even sexual. You make people prove to you that they're worth knowing or even
loving. If they screw up, that's it and they're out. Which isn't healthy, by the
way. And as tough as you come across, that just means you're just as vulnerable
inside. There's a reason for what surface you deliver to people."


People just needed to read it and understand it. You can know a person's
strengths and weaknesses within one minute of meeting them. Just watch them
interact without knowing they're being observed.


Taryn sat stock-still.


I added, softly, "And you're not as invincible as everyone talks how you are.
You need people. You need Tray. You need someone to love you and reign you in at
times. That's Tray's job. And you enliven him. That's where he needs you."


I paused.


"Do you want more?" I asked.


Taryn sucked in her breath, her cheeks had paled, and I braced myself.


It came in a soft lethal breath, "You're a bitch."


I sighed and relented, "I can be if I need to be, but I'm not generally a
bitch. I'm a girl who's dreams of being loved were shattered a long time ago. I
just recently realized that, but I've survived some pretty awful things too. The
difference between you and me is that I didn't deflect the pain. I absorbed it
and I buried it."


"Some great counselor you are. I don't think I want my sister learning from
someone like you."


"Got you to sit back and listen, didn't I?" I returned smoothly, never a hair
out of place.


It was a feat in itself.


Carter and Tray came and rescued the two of us at that moment.


And that's when I made my move.


Tray was distracted, concerned by the uncharacteristic pale features of
Taryn. Carter was furious, wondering what I'd just said to his best friend.


And Taryn was weak and I used that.


I moved one step, brushed against her lover, and my fingers did the rest.


I moved away with his phone in my purse as Carter grasped my elbow. He led me
out of the ballroom and hissed through clenched teeth, "What the hell just
happened there?"


I shrugged him off, but my eye caught a lingering form just down the
hallway.


Zara.


"Nothing much. Why?" I asked casually, frowning as I noticed the slight guilt
flush on Zara's face. She looked away when she realized I studied her.


I moved towards her, but Carter kept pace.


He grilled, "I've never seen Taryn that upset before except when Lanser
died."


It took one second before I realized he meant Brian. Not Jace.


I kept walking and Zara stayed in place.


She was there for me.


Carter continued, "I mean it. I want to know exactly what you said to her. I
said not to talk to my friends and what did you do? You harassed them. You upset
Taryn."


I stopped and said firmly, "No. I said some things about Mandy that she
didn't like hearing. Taryn got pissed and called my bluff. She asked for what I
said to her and if she denies that, then she's not who I think she is."


Mandy wasn't fully real, but Taryn was all too real. She just didn't fully
know it yet.


We stopped at Zara and I asked, strongly, "What are you doing here?"


Zara's eyes twitched to Carter and she said tightly, "Not in front of him. He
could snitch."


"You're the snitch and what are you doing here?" I retorted.


Carter fell silent and watched us.


Zara shifted again, uncomfortably, and I warned, "I don't have time for this.
Say it now."


She rolled her eyes and mumbled, "I've got something to tell you…"


"How'd you find me?"


Another eye-roll and she said shortly, "I called Joe. I figured you'd go and
see him. He knew where you were."


Joe was Munsinger.


"And?"


"Okay." She exclaimed. "Okay, but you can't get mad, alright?"


"I will pull a knife if your tongue doesn't start moving." I warned her and I
knew Zara watched my eyes. They were steady, deadly, and full of promises.


I'd do it and I'd done it before.


"Are you sure? In front of him?"


"Zara!"


"Okay, okay." She held her hands in the air, in surrender. "Just…alright. You
know how I was saying before, about what I do now. Well…it's not for no
cops."


"You already told me that."


"It's for…I work for this guy named Roobie. I told him that I met an old
friend and he wanted to know who and I told him and…pretty soon I got this guy
on the phone asking for me. His name was Petrie…"


Oh god.


"He said there's a lot of money for a reward for…"


For me. And I know who'd she say in the next instant…


"Marcus is willing to pay $500,000 for any information on you. So…" Zara
trailed off. She bit her lip and shuffled again.


"You told him that I came to see you." I said numbly.


"Yeah." She mumbled and looked away. "Look, you should head out of town. I
know I told you that you could stay at my place, but…he's got guys coming."


"Where'd you tell them?"


"Not here." Zara said brightly. She looked like it was her only saving grace.
"They're watching Joe's place. They think you're going to stay there tonight
cause Joe left a key under the hood of his car."


It had been our code. And Marcus knew that because I'd gotten it from him
first.


I'd been with Marcus for five years and it had been five years that I lied to
him. Almost every word I said was a lie except when he'd asked for my love.
Those had been the first truthful words when I told him that I didn't love him
and I couldn't love him.


Five years and I had protected my life from him.


He never knew where I lived. He never knew my family. My brother. My friends.
My roommates or—most important—my nephew.


He had known none of that and it was a feat worth a nobel prize.


Zara had destroyed that because he'd slide the puzzle pieces together
now.


The trail would lead back to Pedlam, back to my friends, home, nephew, and my
brother.


Marcus would know it all now.


"Do you know what you just did?" I demanded, furious.


Zara backed up.


She'd never seen me furious. Cold, angry, cut-off, but not furious.


"Do you have any idea, Zara?!"


"Look, I'm sorry. I needed the money."


"For a bistro that'll never happen. You sold me out for your fantasy of a
better life that'll never happen." I said bitterly.


Zara looked like she was going to run any moment.


I pulled back and thought at every angle. I asked quietly, "When you told the
information, what then?"


"What do you mean?"


"Did you hang up? Did the phone ring again? What? Did you leave the room
immediately?"


"I don't know." She shrugged, but she thought about it. "He wanted to talk to
Roobie."


Oh god.


"What'd he say? What'd you hear from in the room?"


She shrugged. Dangerously helpless.


I shook my head, "Did Petrie ask Roobie to put a tag on you? That's what I
want to know."


"Oh." Realization dawned on her face and she stood still, stock-still, in
front of me.


I had my answer and I didn't have time to sit and yell at a supposed
friend.


"Do you have a weapon?"


She handed over a small-edged knife.


"Anything else?"


She shook her head. "I'm really sorry—"


I interrupted her when I asked Carter, "Where's the doors that lead into the
kitchen?"


"Uh…" Carter glanced around, in shock. He was dazed by the turn of
events.


"Forget it." I looked up and saw two men weaving their way purposely through
the crowd. Towards us. Me.


One shoved someone aside while the other one looked up and caught my stare.
They started to run.


"Leave, Terry." I used an alias as I spoke to Carter. Zara couldn't narc on a
fake. "You don't want to be connected to me right now. I'd suggest you take off
immediately. Pick up a woman somewhere else. You don't need a date anymore
tonight."


Carter nodded slowly and I saw he understood what I wasn't telling him. He
looked at Zara, uneasily, but he walked the other way.


I walked down a side hallway that was crowded and tried at every door. Most
were locked, but a few weren't. I poked inside and when I heard music and the
sound of dishes, I walked down the hallway after locking the door behind me.


I neared the employees that were stocking food trays and cleaning dishes and
skimmed the walls for a staff lounge. I saw a few enter and a few exit and I
glimpsed a television through an unmarked bare door.


I slipped inside, heedless of the stares, and skimmed the wall for any
lockers. There were plenty and after the last employee inside left, I
frantically searched for an open locker. Inside was a pair of baggy sweats, a
jean jacket, and a large white t-shirt.


I changed into the sweats and t-shirt, stuffed my dress in the locker and
spun the dial. Just before I left the room, I grabbed a hooded sweatshirt and
hat to pull my hair through.


No one noticed when I left and I slipped out the backdoor, past three servers
taking a smoke break and down the alley with two cellphones, a knife, and the
cash that I'd grabbed as I'd stowed my bag.


Here's another confession of mine.


When I'd hugged Munsinger for the seventh time, my fingers had pulled away
with his badge and set of keys.


Munsinger would've returned home, clueless, as Viiwa would've needed to ring
him into the apartment. He wouldn't connect my appearance with his key's
disappearance until later, much later.


I was quick enough to use his slow on the uptake for my best advantage.


It would hit him the next morning as he would sit at the breakfast nook with
his morning earl gray tea.


He'd blink and smack himself in the head, but he'd get over it. He always
did…except about my nephew.


When I left the subway and approached the Poet's House, I turned into the
back alley and flicked Munsinger's badge over the screen. A green light appeared
in the top right corner and I used his keys to unlock the door. Inside, I left
the lights off, and moved towards the back where I'd hidden my bag, clothes, and
everything inside I needed for survival.


I changed back into my old clothes, rolled up the stolen clothes, and left
for the street once again. After two blocks, I threw the clothes in a back
dumpster and pulled out Tray's cellphone.


I scrolled down his contacts until I came upon Chance.


I hit send and a second later I heard, "It's late, Tray. It better be worth
it, brother!"


I turned my back to a security camera as I waited near a phone booth and said
smoothly, "I'm not your brother and I stole his phone. I've got something for
you, but you've got something for me."


It's all about angles. Knowing the right angle, knowing which angle would
turn wrong, and which one presented you with a better opening than before.


I felt the wind slam into my back and waited for Chance Evans to bite my
bait.