Not ideal. But manageable. Ares, Josh and I are all still a little bit broken, but most of the time, we’re okay. When we aren’t, we pretend we are. And when we can’t pretend, we offer each other what support we can.
After all, we’re Huxleys.Pietas et unitas. Without loyalty and unity, we’re nothing.
When my pulse is back to normal and I’m no longer gasping like a fish tossed up on land, I put on workout shorts and head to the home gym to run. Since Gardy passed away, the only way for me to quickly shed the aftereffects of a nightmare is a hard run, lasting at least half an hour.
I step onto the treadmill.I should get a new dog.Maybe another golden retriever…
Except I keep finding reasons not to. Much as I adored Gardy, the last few years of her life were hard. Watching her grow weaker and sicker was painful. Not only that, every time I saw her, it reminded me of Fiona Oberman—a girl as beautiful and treacherous as my mother.
Unlike my mother, though, Fiona lacks self-respect, I think gloomily as the treadmill accelerates. My arms and legs pump, my heart beating faster. My head begins to clear.
Why did my nightmare have to end with Fiona holding me, then tossing me aside? It never involved her until today.
I shake myself mentally. Fiona isn’t likely to reappear in my life ever again. She knows how much I despise her. She’s a traitorous bitch, but she’s not an idiot. But Mom? Mom has no shame, and now that Josh and I are thirty, she’ll be back. She didn’t finagle Dad into giving her the right to visit us again as adults just to stay away for the rest of her life.
The family should’ve put her in prison. Or, failing that, hired a discreet hit man. Grandma actually might have, if Mom weren’t the only daughter of Nesovian mob boss Vincent Dunkel. He might not love his daughter, but he could never afford to look weak by failing to protect his own flesh and blood. Also, The Fogeys wanted to end anyentanglement with the mob as quickly as possible. Dad got the divorce he wanted. Ironic, since Mom tried to kidnap us to avoid getting divorced. But the family has always been firm on never getting involved with organized crime. And Dad had already discovered what an unhinged lunatic Mom was by then.
Mom can come back and make a big fucking stink all she wants. But she’ll never be able to deceive and manipulate me. I’m no longer her innocent little boy.
You know I love you the most.
Bullshit. There’s no love or purity of heart—except for the blood members of my family.Pietas et unitas. Loyalty and unity. The motto is engraved into our psyches the moment we’re born. We might squabble with each other, but if anybody else tries to fuck with us?
Oh, hell no.
You’re a good boy.
Yeah, not anymore. Aunt Jeremiah no longer worries about my not having the right temperament to swim with the sharks of Huxley & Webber. I’m no longer the naïve kid who believed “I love you” actually means anything. It’s just a tool for manipulation.
After the thirty minutes are up, I warm down, stretch and shower. Select a dark charcoal three-piece suit. A gift from my stepmom Akiko, it was hand-stitched in Tokyo by the same tailor who dresses all of the men of her zaibatsu family in Japan. She worked so hard to chip away at my distrust and sullenness after Mom tried to kidnap us…
The images come again: Mom managing to nab Ares, but losing Josh and me because Ares resisted and bought us time to escape.
Self-reproach drips like poison:it’s my fault Ares got taken by Mom. I close my eyes, exhale, and imagine water leaking from a faucet—then turn it off. Nobody needs that guilt, especially not me or Ares, the one who suffered the most. He fought so that Josh and I would be safe and happy, not so we would dwell on the past and what could’ve been.
I take extra care styling my hair, ensuring it’s slicked back perfectly. Loop a muted burgundy tie into a trinity knot. A Cartier Tank on my wrist, onyx wolf-head cuff links and I’m ready to face the world without letting anything touch me.
The family law firm Huxley & Webber takesup most of a sleek skyscraper. Every Huxley born is expected to work—and thrive—at the firm, and most of us do exactly that. My brothers and I did exceptionally well—Harvard undergraduate and Harvard Law. I’m content with my career and the work I do. Dealing with The Fogeys can get a bit annoying. After all, my dad and aunt are name partners and can be meddlesome from time to time.
I’m half an hour early. Aunt Jeremiah joins me in the elevator, holding a travel mug full of coffee. Her blood-red hair is pulled back into a knot, and the same shade gleams on her lips. Her skirt suit and stilettos are jet black.
It’s one of her court appearance looks. Somebody’s going to die, and it’s not going to be her.
“Good morning. You look a little pale.”
Her observation makes my eyebrow twitch a little. Does it show that I had a nightmare? Even though I had the run?
“Should sleep more,” she says.
“How did you know?” I often sleep poorly, but have never mentioned it to anybody in the family. Nobody knows I have bad dreams, not even my doctor.
“You didn’t leave until two last night.”
“Neither did you,” I say, trying not to sound defensive.
“Yes, but I’m a vampire. Haven’t you heard?” A corner of her mouth curves upward. “You aren’t.”
“You should still sleep, if only during the day,” I say, running with it. “As for me, I have to put in the time. Divorce cases are delicate.”
