I do.
“What? Does he have kooky family members like the rest of us? Mommy issues?”
Sean’s grin is self-satisfied. He set the bait and I bit.
“His mother was some sort of deviant disciplinarian. He was taken from her when a neighbor found him locked and gagged in a closet when he was nine years old.”
The horror must show on my face because Sean reaches across the table and squeezes my hand.
“Where did he go after they took him?” I ask. “Family?”
He shakes his head. “He spent a few nights with a family friend and then his mother got out. She said it was all a misunderstanding and that Jackal was playing a game with the neighborhood kids.”
“That’s ridiculous,” I interrupt. “They actually believed her?”
“Jackal corroborated her story. The charges were dropped, and life continued as normal. Normal for Jackal, that is.”
I feel sick. When the food arrives a minute later, I push it aside. “What happened then?”
He looks up at me from his meal, a blob of sauce on the corner of his mouth.
“I thought you didn’t want to know.”
I don’t like his smug tone. “Well, you started the story, so goddamn finish it.”
“Nothing really to say. Over the years, minor things were reported: a broken arm, bruises. But overall, he was an accomplished kid. Spoke three languages by the time he was sixteen, got a master’s degree. And apparently, he can dance ballet.”
“That’s sick,” I say. “That no one did anything about it.”
“He protected her. Nothing anyone could do.”
“He was a child. Someone should have intervened, gotten him out of there.” The tables around us look up when I raise my voice. I glance at them apologetically.
Sean doesn’t seem to notice. He shrugs.
I look at him in disgust. Why is he even telling me this?
“Where is his mother now?”
“She’s in the Red. Stepped down as the head of the agricultural trade department not too long ago. The guy is messed up, Phoenix. I thought you should know.”
“You thought I should know? Why is that?”
He sets down his fork, looks at me seriously. “You’ve been spending a lot of time with him. That’s all.”
I feel a spark of rage. I don’t know if it’s for Jackal, or myself, or toward Sean who just spilled very private details about the guy’s life with the intent to...what? Embarrass him? Scare me away?
“Whatever atrocities Jackal suffered as a child have no impact on his work as an End Man. I think it’s in poor taste to snoop around his life like that.”
I want to get up and leave. But I can’t just storm out on a date with the governor. To my relief, Sean looks mildly apologetic.
“Truce,” he says, raising his palms in the air. “You have a soft spot for him. That’s what I love about you, Phoenix. Always defending the underdog. Now eat before your food gets cold.”
I pick up my fork. I ordered a salad. Fuck him for patronizing me.
After lunch, we stop by Sean’s office so he can pick up some paperwork. I wait in reception, scrolling through the news on my Silverbook. I see the headline at the same time that I hear pounding down the hall...footsteps, people running. I peek my head out of the door and see a group congregated near the west side window.
“What is it?” I ask. I stand on my tiptoes to see out, but they’re dancing around, all competing for the front spots.