Page 40 of The Lost Metal

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“Nah,” he said. “Hit me, Jaxy. I’m mostly numb already. It’s a good day to get punched.”

“Why do you insist,” Jaxy said, “on seeing her in person?”

“So she can punish me.”

“Does shewantto punish you?”

“She seems to enjoy it when it happens.”

“Does she? Does shereally,Wayne? Because the way you tell it, sounds like she asks younotto come see her.”

“Because she’s bein’ too nice,” Wayne explained. “But I don’t deserve anyone bein’ nice to me.”

“I told you, Jax,” Ranette said. “He’s got the self-awareness of a half-eaten sandwich.”

Wayne frowned. What was she on about?

“I’ve never met anyone,” Jaxy said, “who can get inside the heads of other people as well as Wayne can. He’ll understand.”

“He gets in their heads when it suits him,” Ranette said. “Not when it means seeing things he doesn’t want to see.”

Wayne looked away. Ranette said a lot of mean things, but they weren’t… well, they weren’tactuallymean. He joked, and she joked. And sure, sometimes there was an edge of truth to it, but that’s what friends was about. Making you look a little silly when you were together, so that you didn’t lookreallystupid when you were apart.

But the way she said that last bit… it stung. He understood people, didn’t he? Wax and Marasi, they were great at the investigating part. But they needed someone like Wayne who reallyknewthe people who lived in the dirt—and counted themselves lucky, because at least it wasn’t mud. Currently.

“Wayne,” Jaxy said, “what do you imagine that girl wants? Can you think like her? Does shereallywant you to come remind her of her pain each month?”

“I… I want her to be happy. And beating up a fellow like me who made her unhappy… well, that’s the best way.”

“Is it?” Jaxy asked softly. “Or is it about you? Doing some kind of penance? Wayne, each time you ignore what that girl asks of you, you take a little joy from her and turn it into your own suffering.”

He squeezed his eyes shut.

“Youcansee it,” Jaxy said, patting his hand. “I know you can.”

“I’ve lost my appetite,” he said, shoving back from the table and stalking off through the restaurant.

From behind, Ranette’s voice chased him. “I told you. He might notbe as bad as I pretend, Jax. But he’s not as good as you want to pretend either.”

He traded the bell for his hat back, and only took one of the fellow’s cufflinks in the exchange—a fair trade for them keeping his hat over some stupid bell that barely even worked. Outside, unfortunately, he all but collided with two men in bowler hats and vests.

Rust and Ruin! They’dfound him.

“Sir,” the taller of the two bean counters said, “we need to talk about your finances.”

“Whataboutem?” Wayne said, shoving his hands in his pockets.

“You havefartoo much money,” the shorter one said. “Please, sir. Wehaveto talk about your investment strategy! Your current lack of diversification is acrime.”

Well, to ashes with him, then. This day had actually found a way to get worse. He let them shove him into their hearse of a car, off to the mortuary. Or, well, the accounting firm that kept track of his wealth. Same difference.

In either case Wayne, as everybody knew him, was dead.

15

The trellium was moving.

Steris had been getting out a harmonium sample for study in conjunction with the trellium spike. And the trellium didnotseem to like it.


Tags: Brandon Sanderson Fantasy