Shattered Glass(77)

“Austin,” I repeated, “And yes. It shouldn’t be long now before we hear my private banker weeping.” Either she was tired or she didn’t get my joke. That was okay, it was a lousy joke.

“They said they will take Nikë in patrol car. The officers would not allow me to ride with them.”

“You can ride with me,” I said, picturing Cai with the abject misery of someone who’d been arrested, jailed, and was facing life in prison, carted off once again in a patrol car.

“Actually, Austin, the Marshal service needs to drive us. We also need to pick up her bags from the hotel and talk about a few things.”

More than grateful to have less time around a woman who was examining me like I was belly-button lint, I offered a brief smile. “Peter and Darryl still in there?”

“No. Your father drove them home.”

“I’ll see you at the house.” To this day I maintain that I did not run to my car.

Since I had to give my information to the county clerk, and was recorded as Cai’s place of residence, the police department called to confirm when I would be home in order to set up the home monitoring system. Without Peter and Angelica to rain down sheets of guilt, I began to process the fact that this boy was going to be in my home, ruining my career. I spoke tersely to the officer making the appointment and hung up, continuing my drive.

“Jesus Christ, what have I just done?”

I answered myself silently, You’re tethering Peter to you, using Cai as the chain.





Home Alone VI — Avoiding Mother and Son

Peter was waiting on my front stoop, resting his waist against the wrought iron railing next to Darryl, who sat on the top step. When they saw me, Darryl stood and Peter tilted to see beyond me.

“They’re bringing him in an hour and half,” I said.

“Rosa?” Darryl asked.

“When Angelica and she are done discussing things.” I slipped past them and unlocked the front door, holding it open so they could go inside.

“Did he look okay?” They asked in unison, though Darryl’s was a variation of the question. It was then I noticed the grocery and duffle bags they carried in.

“He looked tired,” I said tactfully. I couldn’t ask the questions I wanted to about Rosafa, not without giving away that she was a federal witness. I had a feeling both boys knew, however. And I really didn’t want to ask questions. I wanted to take Peter upstairs and finish that kiss we started earlier. “What’s in the bags?”

“Cai’s paints and clothes. Groceries. Rosa will want to cook, and Cai has sugar…issues.” Peter smiled fondly.

“Issues?” I showed them to the kitchen and watched them unpack. They unloaded Pixie Stix, Pop Rocks and Skittles by the bagsful onto my counter. “That’s not sugar issues. That’s a candy factory.”

Darryl grinned over his shoulder while stuffing my cabinets and fridge with various items. The only things I recognized without reading labels were eggplant and rice. Or maybe I saw lettuce or cabbage? “Cai will be having major sugar withdrawals,” Darryl said.

“He uses it sometimes to combat the sadness.” Peter shrugged.

“Cai’s got sugar and Peter’s got—”

“Darryl,” Peter warned.

Peter’s got what? Intravenous drug needs? A whip collection? He masturbates using those slippers? What?

I really needed to get over those slippers. I kept fixating on them because it was so out of place with his personality. But the more I learned about Peter, the less I was beginning to think he was as hard-edged as he liked people to believe. The way he kissed, the way he touched me, and his patience with me—those didn’t fit with who I perceived he was. It was time to stop basing everything I thought about Peter on the fact that he was a prostitute.

“Do you two want to stay here?” Both of them turned slowly to me. Peter’s mouth was parted, his eyes wide. Darryl tilted his head.

“As in move in?” Peter asked, clenching and releasing fists against his thighs.

“As in, stay here for a few nights a week until the preliminary hearing. Bond may be revoked then.” Move in? I remembered when even the thought of that sent me from the person I was dating into another woman’s bed. This, though? This made my heart skip beats in a whole new way.

“Sure, a few days I meant.” Peter exhaled loudly. “Thanks. I can sleep on the sofa.”

You can damn well sleep in my fucking bed. “It’s a pull out, you two can share.” Over my dead, rotted-to-dust corpse!

After Cai murdered me, of course.

“Be right back,” Peter said to Darryl and took my hand, pulling me upstairs two at a time.