I thought the voice had left, but he cut in again, causing me to grimace once more.
Exactly how many men do you have to trade barebacks with before a place qualifies as a bathhouse?
“You tell us, Son.” Dad seemed to have regained control of his emotions. Typically it was Mom who became overly emotional. “If you don’t tell us, we have no other option besides making assumptions.”
“I wasn’t at a bathhouse. I’ve never even been to one of those.”
Tomato, tomahto.
I couldn’t honestly say I hadn’t been using drugs, even though I’m sure they were thinking along the lines of meth or coke or something. At least Spor was all natural. Yeah, that’s the rationale I should go with.
“Then where were you, Finn?” Cynthia sounded close to tears. “We’ve been so worried.”
How in the world was I supposed to explain this? How could I make them understand? How could I get them to believe I was better now? “I was at the Square.” I hadn’t meant to say it. I wasn’t sure what I was going to say, but I sure as hell hadn’t intended to tell them that.
Well, look at that. Boy wonder decided to be honest, after all. Anybody got a Boy Scout medal to pin on him?”
Only Dad’s face showed any recognition. Mom, Christina, and Cynthia just gaped at me.
Christina caved first. “What’s the Square?”
I flourished my hands, seeking desperately for words. “It’s a place for supernaturals to… Well, if you’re needing a place to… it’s a place for people like us.”
Dad slammed his hand down on the table. “It is most definitelynota place for people like us! I would have rather you’d been at a bathhouse. Although from what I hear…” The muscle on the left side of his jaw twitched.
Mom looked back and forth between us, her gaze finally coming to rest on Dad. “You know about this place? What is it?”
He didn’t look at her. “It’s not a place for decent people to go.” He glared at me. “You should never have been there.”
Mom didn’t let up. “How do you know about it? What is it?”
Dad took several shallow breaths and then finally looked at her. “It’s a place where the dregs of our species, of nearly any supernatural species, can go and not have to abide by the civilized rules of honorable society.”
“Well, I’ve never heard about it.” Her eyes narrowed. “How do you know about it?”
“Oh, for God’s sake, Paulette—”
“Oh no you don’t, Wendell de Morisco.” There she was. I knew Mom wouldn’t be able to hold her spitfire in for long. “You just calm yourself right down and lose that tone with me. I’m not the one who knows about some secret philandering society!”
Dad rolled his eyes and actually laughed. “Paulette, I didn’t say anything about philandering. And I’ve never been there.”
Her eyes narrowed further.
“I promise, hun.” Dad smiled patiently. “I’ve never been there. I’ve only heard stories about it.”
“Stories from who? What kind of people are you hanging around with that are telling you stories about such sinful places?”
“Sweetheart, there’s no way I’m going to win here.” Dad sighed. “I’ve heard about it from several of the customers at Mascarada. It’s pretty common knowledge, actually.”
“Maybe with the type of clientele you’re bringing into the costume shop. I can guarantee Panaderia’s patrons wouldn’t darken the door of such filth.”
Dad motioned at me with his chin. “I think we’re forgetting the bigger picture here, Paulette.”
She looked over at me, as if only then remembering three of her children were with them. She glared at Dad one last time and turned back to me. “What were you doing there?”
Tell her! Tell her about the Spor! About that man’s blood from his slit neck shooting down your throat! Even better, tell her about that canine blowing his load up your ass.
I dropped my head and began massaging my temples—partly because a killer headache threatened and partly to hide my wincing at the fucker’s voice. “I went there originally to try to find the vampire that killed Sonia. I had to do something. I couldn’t just sit there watching while Brett lay in bed for days.”
