“Come here,” he says just loud enough for me to hear.
I hesitate. It’s late and he’s drinking, and I know only bad things happen when it’s past two in the morning, but I don’t have anywhere else to go. It’s either toss and turn and rage about the past or go talk to the man that holds my life in his hands.
“I didn’t think you’d be up.” I drift over and sit slowly down on the couch across from his chair.
He studies me and swirls ice in his glass. “I haven’t been sleeping much lately.”
“I know what you mean. I can’t seem to quiet my brain.”
“Does that happen to you a lot?”
I shrug a little and pull an absurdly soft blanket into my lap. Despite the heat rolling from the fireplace and the warmth of California mid-summer, I feel cold all the time, ever since Riley went away.
“Only when I have a life-or-death decision hanging over my head.”
He smiles and laughs softly as he takes a sip. “That happens to me more often than you’d think.”
“Considering who your family is, I believe it.”
“Not always because of them actually. I manage to find my own trouble now and again.”
“Have you made a habit of kidnapping employees?”
He smirks at me. “Only the ones that drug my brother.”
I grin awkwardly and run the blanket between my fingers. “Are you close? You and him?”
His smile fades and he shrugs as he looks at the window again. “We were when we were younger.”
“Do you have more siblings?”
“Two younger brothers, Damon and Jason, and two younger sisters, Susi and Rella. We’re practically a brood at this point.” Another long sip and a look like he’s remembering something he doesn’t want to. I know that look well, it’s permanently etched on my face.
“Wow, so that’s, what, six of you? I didn’t have any siblings growing up so I find it hard to imagine what it would be like living with five brothers and sisters.”
“It was about as hard as you’re picturing, but also a lot easier than you realize. People get used to their situation and their lives become normal, so it wasn’t anything special for me to have so many brothers and sisters. Really, it sounds lonely to grow up an only child. Do you ever wish your mother had more kids?”
I quickly shake my head. “Not at all.”
“Why not? Family’s important.”
“Depends on your family. Momma would’ve only been more bitter and regretful if she’d had more babies and who the hell would’ve raised another one? Probably would’ve been me.”
“I take it your mother wasn’t an active parent.”
“Momma’s a drunk that married a piece of shit car mechanic named Todd. There’s a reason Riley ran away from West Virginia and came out here.”
“Is that why you ran away as well? Or are you here only because of your cousin?”
I go silent as I watch my reflection in the window. I look exhausted and I wonder when I started to seem so tired, like I’m older than my twenty-two years.
“I don’t know what I’m doing anymore.”
“You ever think about what you’ll do if you catch up to her?”
“I haven’t planned far in advance in a long time, if I’m honest. But I will say, if I ever do catch up, it won’t really matter anymore.”
He studies me carefully. “You sound like you’ve lost already.”
I wave that way. I’ve lost more than he realizes. “What about you? There’s some job only I can help with, so I’m guessing things are complicated in your life right now.”
“In a way,” he says, still watching me closely, studying me like I’m his favorite painting hanging on a crisp white wall. “But my life’s always been complicated, whether I want it to be or not. Circumstance of my birth.”
“Your circumstance doesn’t seem so bad to me. Where I grew up, people would’ve killed for a blanket this nice, much less for all this.” I gesture vaguely at the luxurious apartment.
He only shakes his head. “Things don’t matter as much as you think they do, little thief. It’s all just illusion and posturing. It’s all part of the game.”
“Must be a fun game then. I lived in a single-story house in the middle of the West Virginia foothills in the middle of freaking nowhere. Riley grew up in a trailer with a snoring dad, a pill addict mom, and three dogs. All we ever had was each other and the woods.”
He raises an eyebrow. “You don’t strike me as the outdoors type.”
“I’m not.” I shift and adjust my weight, leaning toward him slightly. “But sitting outside in the wind and rain’s sometimes better than getting yelled at by my drunk mom.” Or punched by The Fist for doing not much more than breathing the same air as him.
He doesn’t speak, only purses his lips as he considers me for a long moment before he finishes his drink in two long gulps. He releases a sharp breath and puts the glass down on a side table before he shifts his weight and leans forward, elbows on his knees.