Page 105 of Gorgeous Misery

“You wanted Merc, I delivered you Merc.”

“You brought me Merc, Sasha Cherlin, Wendy Gale, and yourself.”

“So? You want me to leave or something?”

“Not at all. I’m more curious than ever.”

He’s Southern. I mean, I always knew this, but his accent seems different now that we’re actually face to face in his very, very, very Southern mansion. A little thicker, maybe. Not that noticeable, still barely there. But it’s disconcerting. Like I don’t know him.

“I just want you to know,” Adam continues, “that I will not tolerate any fuckery of any kind when it comes to Donovan. If you interfere—”

“I’m not here to interfere.”

“Good.” He lets out a breath and nods his head to the stairs. “Then why don’t you join me for a drink by the pool. I’m sure everyone else will find their way to us when it’s appropriate.”

”What about Donovan?”

“What about him?”

“Aren’t we gonna like… look in on the guy? He’s the whole reason we’re here.”

Adam squints his eyes at me again. “He’s the reason Merc is here. Why you are here, well, that’s still up for debate.”

I plead no contest with my hands. “A drink it is, then.”

I follow him down a hallway, through a large chef’s kitchen attached to a massive floor-to-ceiling-window lined family room, and duck past sheer curtains billowing in the breeze that cover an open French door. We find ourselves on the pool deck. It’s a gorgeous pool. This entire property is much, much more than I expected it to be and I once again find myself comparing our lives.

We are so very alike, but all the things around us are so very different.

“So.” Adam leads me over to a wet bar underneath a large pergola. “You and Wendy. How’s that work?”

“How’s what work?”

I expect Adam to serve up some kind of pretentious whiskey. I expect crystal glasses. I expect him to be a lot like my father, I realize. So when he reaches into a fridge and pulls out two silver cans of Ghost in the Machine, I am forced to take a second look at what seems like my lifelong nemesis.

I take the can and nod my head in thanks. We pop them open, drink, and then we both turn to look at the thick, encroaching woods on the other side of the massive, immaculate pool.

“So. You and Wendy, huh?” Adam tries again. “What’s that like?”

“What’s it like?” I side-eye him. “It’s lovely, Adam.”

“She’s very young.”

“So?”

“You’re, what? The same age I am, right?”

“I guess.”

“And Wendy is the same age as Indie, right?”

“I… couldn’t even tell ya.”

“There’s like half a year difference between them. But it’s easy enough to see that they come from the same crop.”

I let out a breath. “I would appreciate it if you didn’t talk about my wife that way.”

Adam’s laugh is so loud, a whole flock of birds squawk and take flight from the thick canopy of trees. “Wife?”