“She asked if she could have a razor. I told her no. It was titillating.”
“Why did she want a razor?”
“I figured it might be so she could slice open one of your arteries while you sleep. I advised her that you’re a light sleeper, so she probably shouldn’t try it.”
I grin at the idea of her trying to murder me in my sleep. I can’t actually see her trying, but the resulting struggle would be very appealing. “She’s fun, isn’t she?” I remark, lightly.
“Yes, I love protecting you from the woman you’re victimizing. Makes me all warm inside.”
Adrian tries to rain on my parade with his droll tone and disdainful comments, but it doesn’t work. I wish I had a camera in the bathroom. This girl is like an infection in my brain today; I don’t know why, I just want to go back to the bedroom. Even if she just pouts at me and hates me—it’s even cuter when she tries to rationalize me, tries to make excuses for me.
Well, sort of cute. I’m not sure I’m the first person she’s had to make excuses for. There was nothing in Adrian’s work-up to indicate she had any official history of any type of abuse, but there’s always the possibility it wasn’t reported. I’ll have to look into that some more.
“Hey, I need you to look into something for me,” I tell him, on a whim. “I know you already looked into Mia’s past, but I need you to look deeper. Talk to people. Find out if maybe her mom had any inappropriate boyfriends or family members, anyone who may have abused her before.”
Appearing completely bewildered, he asks, “Why?”
“I’m a curious man.”
“And what am I supposed to do with this information?”
“Bring it to me? Are these complicated orders, Adrian? Should I draw a picture in crayon for you?”
“Don’t be a fucking asshole.”
“Then don’t question my orders, just do it.”
“Am I supposed to kill this hypothetical slimeball, or bring him in for drinks so you can compare notes?”
I cock my head in consideration. “I’ll take care of him myself. Just find out if such an asshole exists and we’ll go from there.”
“You’re a confusing motherfucker,” he tells me. “I can’t look into this myself while you have me on her door, you realize, that, right? She’ll be dead by the time I look into it. This seems like a waste of my time.”
“Oh, come on, you love murdering rapists. It’ll be a treat.”
“You just said I don’t get to kill him.”
“Maybe I’ll let you hang him up on a meat hook and beat the shit out of him or something first. I’ll think it over, play around with some ideas to make it fun for everyone. Well, not him. Fun for us.”
He mutters about what a fucking psycho I am. I figured he’d like that idea, so I don’t know what’s up his ass today. Well, I guess I do. He’s really pissed I’m making him take part in this whole Mia thing. Perhaps he’ll feel better when we torture Mia’s former abuser since his hands are tied with her current one.
Assuming a former abuser exists. I’m getting ahead of myself.
“What if you’re wrong?” Adrian finally asks.
“What if she wasn’t abused? I don’t know. I’ll find some other unlucky pervert for you to take your aggressions out on.”
Sighing heavily, he says, “No. What if you’re wrong about her? What if she doesn’t talk?”
His question puts an instant damper on my good mood. I know it’s the end goal here, but I’m reluctant to think about the inevitable unpleasantness of that day before it comes. “She’ll talk,” I say, simply.
“But what if she doesn’t?” he asks, more assertively. “I’ve been thinking about it, and she’s already doing things that don’t make sense. She’s nice to me. Why is she nice to me? Why is she nice to any of us? Maria goes in there and she’s nice to Maria. I stand guard out here and she’s nice to me. That’s not normal. She should be pissed at every last one of us for helping you keep her. Where’s the appeal for help? Where’s the anger at the injustice of it all, even if she knows better than to ask? Even Vince—he was a total asshole to her, blaming her for putting herself in your path, and she just took it. I would’ve punched him in the face. Where is her fucking anger, Mateo? Everything I’ve seen makes me think there’s no vengeance in this girl.”
He’s not wrong, exactly. “It may not be vengeance, then. I assumed that before I knew her. Her motivation doesn’t matter, only the resulting action matters. She’ll talk.”
“She didn’t tell on me and Vince,” he points out.
“It wouldn’t have benefitted her to do so. She thinks she’s in love with Vince,” I say, rolling my eyes. “I’m sure she has some romantic idea about protecting him. I assure you, she has no such devotion to me. Even if she only talks as a means of self-defense to get away from me, she’ll talk.”