“What about you, buddy?” I ask, studying his face for any signs of whatever he isn't telling me. “Anything you want to get off your chest?”
I've known him long enough to realize he's thinking something, that he's on edge all of a sudden. He was perfectly fine before, but once I mentioned the close call from before...
“I never asked, what did you do with the one I paid for?”
We gave her handler a significant sum of money to not ask any further questions about what happened to her, and he agreed easily. I was a bit too rattled back then to think much about what would happen to her. I'd figured he'd just take her to the airport or something, give her a plane ticket to start over somewhere. She was intoxicated, and I doubt she even knew where she was well enough to be a threat. Besides, I trusted that if shewasa threat, he'd neutralize it.
Now, I'mnot so sure.
“Your attempts to distract me aren't going to work.” He says, deflecting. “I'm concerned. You haven't been yourself since you went to Vegas. Did something happen there?”
I roll my eyes, deciding there's no hope of getting out of this right now. “I didn't go to Vegas.”
He's quiet for a minute, watching me like he's trying to decide whether I'm fucking with him. “What?”
“You heard me.” I lift my margarita and drink it fast, the ice clinking around the glass as I let the tequila warm the back of my throat. It's not my favorite, but it does what I need it to.
When I set the glass down, drained of liquid, Dex's eyes are sharp on me.
“If you weren't in Vegas, where were you?”
Christ, he sounds like a jealous girlfriend. I laugh as I take his margarita, too. “You really want to know?”
He hesitates, sensing that whatever I'm about to tell him is more than he wants to know. But he's too loyal a friend, too concerned with saving my soul, to back down.
I watch him calmly, swirling the tequila around the glass before lifting it to my lips and tossing it back.
Dex always takes his drinks neat, so they go down quick.
When I set it between us, he's watching me, steadfast. “Yes.”
“I'll show you.” I shrug, tossing down enough cash to cover our bill and a generous tip for not taking Carmen's bait. “You're driving.”
“This is your house.” Dex says, as we pull up outside the front of the building, his suspicious eyes turning to me.
“It is.” I nod, unbuckling my seatbelt and letting myself out before he's even put the car in park. I'm halfway to the door by the time he catches up to me.
“You were here all week? You didn't actually go anywhere?”
“Nope.” I chuckle, seeing the worry on his face deepen. He has no idea what he's about to walk into, but it's not as bad as whatever he's thinking.
For some strange reason, ever since my darkness has been manifesting, he's seemed to think I have a taste for mass destruction. I'm not looking to cause chaos or to slaughter innocents for no reason. The idea of mass shootings or bombings doesn't appeal to me in the slightest. I'm not a psychopath bent on destruction of all things good. I just like to feel in control. This does it for me.
“Just... tell me what you were up to?” He asks, placing a hand on my shoulder in an effort to get me to stop walking.
It does, and when I face him, he looks genuinely worried.
“Relax,” I tell him. “I've found a way to tame the beast.”
“Like... another hobby?”
“Something like that.” I shrug.
“I'm guessing it's not yoga.” He grumbles, shoulders tense as I unlock my front door and let the two of us in.
He relaxes a bit when he doesn't find anything wild in my living room. I'm pretty sure he was expecting bags of manure and shrapnel.
I'm actually a bit offended that he thinks so little of me.
