I’m not magically better. The depression that’s been there for several years is clinging, harder and stickier than ever, to every recess of my mind. But I’ve identified it. And I took another shower, ate some avocado toast, and admitted to myself that another Spider is coming whether I like it or not.
“What about your dad?” I asked Tristan this morning in the kitchen, touching his arm. “Did you get him to a safe house like I told you?”
“Don’t worry about him.”
“Yes, tell the anxious, depressed neurodivergent person not to worry.”
He handed me a fresh glass of orange juice and told me to put on some shoes.
Fujimori’s is unlocked. There’s a large crash before Abe sprints out of the kitchen.
Tristan holds a hand up, blocking him. Jane appears out of thin air, berating her son in Japanese.
“I get to hug her!” Abe yells at his mom. While they argue, Abe’s dad wraps an arm over my shoulders. “Are you kidding me?” Abe asks his mom when he sees.
“I’m fine,” I tell the restaurant collectively. Ben is near the kitchen door, a cup of coffee in his hand. He looks even more tired than I do.
He jerks his head in the direction of the alleyway. “She’s outside.”
Tristan skims his hand down my shoulder as I walk away. I’m pretty sure he’s thinking the same thing I am. The last time I was in an alleyway, I almost died.
But this is Fujimori's, and that means Ren Callahan is the one calling the shots. As worried as I am, it’s still one of the last places a Spider would stir up trouble.
“I thought you quit,” I tell Ren, almost stepping on her when I open the door to the outside.
She’s sitting on the short stoop of steps, a cigarette in her hand. Everything about her is how I remember. Tailored clothes, sleek hair, addicted to nicotine.
She perks up when the door opens, her body stilling when she realizes it's me. Her shoulders droop, and she takes a big drag.
I sit down next to her. She offers me a cigarette. I shake my head. A second later she produces a joint.
“Okay, yeah.”
She lights up, closing her eyes when she inhales.
“Remember that time you told me to take my underwear off?” She passes me the blunt.
“Your twohundred?—”
“Yes, yes” Ren cuts me off, rolling her eyes. “The two hundred dollar panties.”
I smirk. “Roma probably doesn’t even like you wearing panties.”
It’s her turn to smirk. But it fades. “I just wanted to hold your panties for you.”
I choke, coughing up a haze of marijuana.
“You know what I mean,” Ren argues. “I wanted to help. But I also never wanted to push. I could tell you were going through some deep shit, and I never knew what to say or how to help. I guess what I’m saying is we’re both crap at communicating.”
I inhale, letting fresh air fill my lungs. I pass the joint back to her. “Yeah. I don’t know how to talk. Not about myself. And then this shit with Cade. See the thing about the Spiders. . .”
I explain to her how they operate. Using people against their intended target. She listens raptly.
“I’ve been calling everyone,” she says, and I believe it. She’s got the same gray bags under her eyes that Ben does. “I’m supposed to be the one who knows everything, and I’m totally tits up on this thing.”
“Sorry.”
She sighs, taking a long drag of the blunt. “Nah, that one probably is on me. I’m the perfectionist, remember. I hate that I’m out in the cold with everyone else. But how did you and Hadrian know? I mean, Dimitri told us about the tattoo thing, but Tristan said Hadrian had told him it was the Spider before you even mentioned anything like that.”
