“What the fuck does that even mean?” Ezra asks.
“Live and let live, I think. If I’m being completely honest, I’m not really sure. It sounded pretty, though, didn’t it?”
“Maybe just a little.”
“Good boy.”
Johnny’s still staring at Jaden. “You threw yourself at me? When?”
“Not the point, Uncle Johnny,” he says.
“It’s one-hundred-fuckin’ percent is the point. I’m your uncle!”
“Not by blood,” Jaden says dismissively. His eyes dip up and down Johnny’s body, and he licks his lips. “I still would. Even if you were blood.” Johnny makes a sound like he’s choking, but Ezra’s face is locked on Jaden, searching for something.
“You look a lot different than you do on your Instagram,” Ezra says. “And stop eye-fucking Johnny or I’ll claw your eyes out.”
“My Instagram is private, and I’d like to see you try..”
Ezra nods. “And it took me three weeks to hack your account, fuck-you-very-much. Do you know how many online background checks I had to conduct to figure out the make and model of your first car?”
“Why would you ever need to know that? You’re essentially a stranger on the street,”
Ezra looks around the room, confused. “I’m not on the street, I’m in our luxurious lakeside cabin.”
Jaden looks around the room, tsk-tsking to himself. “Lakeside shanty, more like.”
“I hate you. I don’t even know you, but I hate you already.”
“Noted,” Jaden says. “But that doesn’t answer my question. Why did you need to know what kind of car I drove?”
“For the security question,” Ezra answers as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “So I could reset your password and see all your pictures. Don’t worry, I didn’t go through your messages or anything, aside from an enticing little chat with a man called Rodrigo. He was wearing a quirky fedora in his profile picture, so you can’t blame me for being curious and snooping. I just wanted to look at all your pictures because your father seems to love you and I figured I’d have to meet you one day because of—” Ezra stops himself, covering his mouth with his hand. He swallows, before quietly adding, “Reasons.”
“What reasons?” Jaden asks.
“Never ask that question again. I just needed to know what you looked like. I needed to know what I was up against, in case you tried to hurt me because of my undisclosed reasons. I was really happy to see you’re essentially a stick, because I assumed you’d be taller and stronger, because your dad is essentially the Hillbilly Green Giant.”
“I’m tall where it counts,” he counters.
“As am I,” Ezra says, but all it does is earn him a genuine look of bafflement from Johnny. Ezra must see the doubt in Johnny’s eyes, because he points a finger right at him. “Whatever you’re about to say, don’t you dare.”
“But it’s only fourin—”
“I said, don’t you dare,” Ezra repeats.
“So, you stalked me?” Jaden asks.
“I’m an investigative journalist. This is what I do, Jaden. Can I call you Jaden?”
“No. You can’t.”
“You’re not a journalist,” Johnny says, sounding more confused than ever, which is saying a lot. “You’re an OnlyFans psychic,”
“I moonlight,” Ezra says, nodding patronizingly at Johnny.
“A psychic?” Jaden laughs like it was just a joke when Johnny said it, but when Ezra doesn’t laugh with him, my son’s eyebrows scrunch together in the center of his forehead. “But psychics aren’t real.”
“Oh, shit,” I mutter. “Jay, buddy, you just opened an awful can of worms.”
