The truth is that he’s not the main reason I want the house clean. Not entirely. It’s because in a small, easily denied part of my mind I keep picturing it Becky walking in here. Seeing the mess. The noise. I think about the last time she saw it, and I don’t like it. Not one bit.
Next time she walks through that door, it’ll be different.
I’ll show her that I can run this house.
Keep it clean.
Keep her safe.
They’re all staring at me.
“Go!” I bark and can’t help but enjoy the way they all jump.
Is this how my father felt for all those years? My grandfather? This heady rush of power.
I can see how you’d get used to it. Grow to depend on it.
Kill to keep it.
I check my watch. Less than an hour before the next round of meetings. Not enough time to find Becky or make it out to the clearing.
My hands ache. For the bag. For her.
Not sure which I want more.
“Carrson?”
I glance up.
Thomson stands there, hesitant, like he’s debating whether this is worth risking his life.
“What?” I ask.
“I, uh, wanted to say I think it’s good. What you did today.” He stares at his feet. “We needed it.”
I put my fingers together and bring them to my lips, staring at him over them. He’s smaller than most of us and wears glasses, which is rare. The type who thinks being useful is the same as being powerful.
It isn’t.
There’s a bruise high on his cheek. Faded at the edges. A splash of brown turning green.
I nod to it. “What happened to you?”
His eyes go straight to the chair Jackson just left, and that’sall I need.
“Thomson,” I say, leaning forward, “what if I made you a deal?”
He takes a tentative step closer. “Yeah?”
“You help me with all this,” I wave a hand at the room, “and I keep Jackson off your back.”
He shoves his glasses up his nose with the tip of his finger, and I like that he doesn’t answer right away. He doesn’t try to appease me but rather thinks it through. “Help how, exactly?”
“Catch me up on everything I’ve missed. Make sure Jackson doesn’t get the chance to call me out on something stupid.” I pause, studying the ceiling. “Tell me what people are saying when I’m not in the room.”
I expect him to balk at that last one, but instead a sly smile steals over his face. “That,” he says, “I think I can do.”
I nod, a quiet satisfaction stealing over me. Today had gone better than I expected.
