“What are you going to do to me?” CJ whispers.
“Nothing.” Alana blows air out of her lips. “Let me be very clear. I think you’re a trash human who’s manipulative, immature and selfish. But for some stupid reason, you matter to the people who matter to me.” She picks up the crochet cat and strokes its ears.
From the other side of the room, Craig jumps up. “Finally, someone said it! I don’t get the hype around CJ at all. He’s a fucking DJ! He takes other people’s music and makes it worse.” There’s a twinkle in Alana’s eye that only comes when people agree with her, and CJ is sinking down lower and lower with every passing second.
Lena pipes in, “He’s a great hugger sometimes.”
“Oh, he has arms? What a rare quality in a human,” Alana says, and Craig laughs. There’s a connection between them, I guess, because he’s the one person in the room she has nothing to lose with. I suspect she’s survived situations like this by doubling down and lashing out, but since Craig agreed with her, giving her nothing to fight, she settles back. “My turn for questions.” She pets the yarn cat and asks, “How many of you hired someone to find me, besides Grae?”
This one at least I can answer. “Amanda and I did, but the Olympians were running interference.”
Alana nods like this is the answer she was expecting. Then points the wine bottle at Craig. “So, how the hell did you get through?” Wait, Craig set this whole thing up? Alana takes a sip and shakes her head. “No, the how isn’t important, it’s why. Why did you track me down and put this whole thing in motion?” She waves her hand around in a circle.
“Nothing nefarious, but I understand if you don’t believe me. But I do not want to disclose at this time,” he says with his hands folded in his lap. “You never answered why you bought Mastodon.”
She raises her eyebrow. “I bought it a few years back. The original owner was broke and was about to sell it off to an organized crime syndicate. At the time, he was leaning towards The Deviant, so I got very drunk, played an epic game of poker, and won the chance to buy it.” She says that last, like it was so matter of fact. It strikes me now that this unseen force has affected all of our lives and would have been even worse had she not saved us. Again.
“You did all this for Lena?” Amanda asks.
Alana runs her thumb down the side of her wine glass. “Mastodon’s clients are congressmen, CEOs, and celebrities. A lot of people with influence and power would be at risk if Mastodon went under. Lena wasn’t a client until I bought the company.”
“But I was,” Amanda whispers. “Did you do this for me? Why?”
“They’re dangerous!” Alana rolls her eyes, “I’m not afraid of them, but you should be. And I didn’t want them anywhere near your business.” She sinks back into the couch.
The question that gut-punches me, is still why? She has spent the last ten years protecting everything and everyone I love. What could I possibly give her?
Fuck a duck. Two thumbs of whiskey burn my throat as I throw my head back.
Amanda bends and sets the hammer on the table beside the green box that holds my past. Lena perks up, her eyes light like a gremlin. “Can I?” She looks at Alana, then at me. “I like to smash things.”
“Can you do it on the floor? That table was twenty-five grand,” Craig says.
“If we’re all asking questions here, why did you two break up?” Alana smirks.
Lena slides off the couch and grabs the hammer while Amanda and I exchange glances. It’s the curiosity—and the first flicker of fear—on Craig’s face that makes Amanda speak. She gives me her shy smile. “Oh, we were having sex, and his head was in the wrong place.”
CJ lets out a laugh that sounds more like a honk, and Lena freezes with the hammer poised over her head, stunned. Alana though is out of her seat, leaning over the coffee table to smack me on the leg.
“Grae!” Rage and disappointment blaze in her eyes. “Boundaries! Not everyone is into that, and I know you were raised better than that.”
I rub my leg, which now feels like it’s been stung by ten thousand bees. “What the hell are you talking about?”
“Your head was in the wrong place?” she repeats. I still don’t understand, but now CJ is rolling on the floor, laughing. Even Craig, who normally never throws shade, suddenly looks like one of those ancient trees and casts it all over me.
Amanda catches on before I do. “No! Not anal sex. He just called me the wrong name,” she squeaks and then slaps a hand over her mouth.
Alana smacks my other leg, this time with a smirk. “You dummy. You were sleeping with the most beautiful woman in the world, and your stupid brain wouldn’t let you focus?”
Shame and humiliation battle in my mind, then team up and form a supergroup to attack my already cracked ego. I rest my elbows on my thighs and drop my head into the space between my arms, rubbing my skull.
“Whose name did you say?” Someone asks. I can’t place the voice. Lance maybe? My eyes squeeze shut as her name and that moment replay in my head. The blonde hair. The way she feels beneath me. The way my mind loops on one fantasy. Her name came out because her name is always on my mind. Then the room erupts with ‘ohhhh, dude,’ and laughter. I want to die.
“Dude, your brain is such a stupid place,” CJ says, laughing again. “You couldn’t even get over your high school ex?”
“The fact that you’re not dead is a testament to Amanda’s patience and restraint,” Lena says, then finally slams the hammer down on the lock. Metal snaps and rattles. And all my answers spill onto the floor.
I lift my head, and Alana watches me. There was a time when I loved watching her think—words and problems swirling in her head as she built solutions. The unlocked box captivates her, and something about her changes. It isn’t just the armor she’s put on during this hellish conversation. It’s a false kind of bravery. No—this is different, and I can’t place it. Then I realized why.
