“You standin’ up for me.” Seymour smiled. “Reckon we’re even now, huh?”
“Even?”
“Yeah. ’Cause I stood up for you before.”
“Oh. I did not realize that created a debt.” Sariel frowned. “I am sorry that I did not fulfill it sooner.”
“No, no!” Seymour laughed. “It’s just an expression. You really didn’t owe me nothin’. I promise.”
“Oh.” Sariel perked back up. “Well, thank you.”
“If you happen to be feelin’ extra helpful, got any ideas what Abby and Vilanos might ask me for?”
“I am not sure.” Sariel poked through the couch cushions. “It could be a memory or a moment in time. Remember that their request does not need to be something tangible.” He snorted. “Even if their intentions are most certainly lascivious.”
“La-siv-what now?”
“Perverse.” Sariel shoved the cushions down hard enough to rattle the whole couch. “They were quite direct with their desire for you.”
Seymour cracked a grin. “Didn’t like that, huh?”
Sariel blushed. “No, I… I suppose I did not.”
“You ain’t gotta worry ’bout them.”
“Why would I be worried?”
“What I mean is, I wouldn’t ask them out for coffee.” Seymour winked.
Somehow, Sariel managed to blush even harder.
Seymour chuckled to himself, drifting now to a stack of mail on the counter. He flipped through aimlessly, but he stopped when he suddenly realized he recognized the name.
No…
It couldn’t be.
He went back to the first envelope and flipped through the rest more carefully, checking each one. His stomach turned, his pulse thudded, and he rubbed his eyes as if it could somehow change what he was seeing.
Seymour must have appeared quite distressed because Sariel asked, “Seymour? Are you all right?”
“Not really.” Seymour swallowed hard.
“Is it because I did not respond to your comment about coffee? I am not well versed in flirting.”
“No, no, it’s not that. It’sthis. I… I don’t understand it. It don’t make a damn lick of sense.”
“The postal service or…?” Sariel approached, gently placing his hand on Seymour’s shoulder. “Is it something else?”
“Oh, it’s definitely fuckin’ somethin’ else.” Seymour held up the mail. “Ring any bells?”
“Who is Clancy Carver?”
“My father.”
CHAPTER
FIVE
