“Don’t fucking go there.”
I could literally feel my muscles constrict in anger. Hailey wisely backed off the subject, but even just the possibility of the conversation made me tense. Revisiting what had happened to Tamara…that was not something I was open to.
“Sorry,” she said. “I pushed too far.”
I bit my lip, focusing on calming myself. And then, just like that…
I forgave her.
“Just don’t go there again,” I said in a surprisingly even tone. “I’ll let you know all about that later. But not now.”
What the fuck was this? Even Sonny knew not to say anything, although that was probably because he was as much present to what had happened as I was. Had anyone in the club even hinted at my deceased wife, I would have had to be restrained from murdering them on the spot.
And yet, when Hailey innocuously mentioned it…
I was never going to hit her, but the anger was real. But so, too, was the forgiveness. I couldn’t make heads or tails of it.
“Tell you what,” Hailey said. “I’m feeling kind of hungry. Why don’t we go get some food and you can turn the tables on me? Since I’ve pressed into you some. If it makes you feel better, think of it as your chance to be a journalist.”
“I have as much enthusiasm for that idea as you probably do for running an MC,” I said with a dry chuckle.
But it’s not something I’m going to pass up. I daresay this is almost…enjoyable.
“But fuck it. I’m always hungry.”
“Always?”
“Ask the boys sometime. I have never passed up nor been unable to finish anything put in front of me. You don’t get to be as big as I am with a stop reflex.”
Hailey shrugged.
“I almost want to test that theory. See if you’re for real.”
I arched an eyebrow…playfully?
“I’m always for real, hon,” I said. “Now, let’s go get food. I need to show you how foolish you are for thinking I would ever bullshit about anything.”
Hailey
Aside from a question about his former love life that got shot down immediately, things were going far better than I ever would have expected for a date with a guy who went by Satan and no other immediately apparent name.
Every few seconds, I tried to remind myself that my ultimate goal was to get access to him and the rest of the Devil’s Patriots so I could produce an investigative report, maybe even a documentary, on them. Falling for him romantically or sexually, even if it had a long game of sorts, was a risky move, not to mention an ethically dubious one. But honestly, it was hard to.
The one thing that kept me focused and not rushing too fast into anything was the reminder to myself that I needed to have interest in Satan the man, not Satan the symbol. In other words, from previous relationships, I knew that falling for what I thought someone was, versus what they actually were, was inevitably going to lead to failure. I’d gotten lucky that I hadn’t had any disastrous, ugly fallouts from any relationship, but anytime something ended, it always felt like a missed opportunity.
As we left Livery, Satan wrapped his arm around my side and pulled me in. I could feel his muscular body practically enveloping itself around me, like a snake coiling around its victim. Instead of feeling suffocated, though, I felt protected, guarded against any danger that could come.
“What are you feeling for food?” I said, trying to play it cool.
I pulled away when I remembered that if my boss or any coworkers saw me romantically, it would be an awful look. Satan didn’t show any overt reaction to me pulling away.
“Do I look like the kind of guy that would ever be picky about the food he eats or the quality of food he eats?” he said in a tone that, generously interpreted, was dry humor but in actuality was probably just so straightforward, it took people off guard. “As long it’s not something pussy like vegan or vegetarian and it’s got a shitload of tasty things, I’ll eat it.”
“Seems like a good way to die of a heart attack.”
“I’m gonna die someday, might as well enjoy as much salt, butter, fat, and steak as I can along the way.”
I chuckled. I wasn’t vegetarian, but I sure ate a lot healthier than that. Some of it was the pressure to look good on TV; some of it was just a desire to not, well, die of a heart attack. But maybe I could use a little bit of lightening up.
