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“Don’t you see?” I said. “It’s the perfect solution. I’d have a remedy for my symptoms—a victory for PBSers everywhere.” At this, Raj rolled his eyes. “And you’d have a free place to live. You could work on the campaign!”

Raj pulled a face. “Why would I want to do that?”

“It’d give you something to do and look good on your résumé?” I didn’t know from résumés, but people were always saying crap like that. “Plus, you did wow my sister with your insights about the housing crisis. This is the best idea. I can’t believe I came up with it.”

“Gabby. We met a month ago.”

“Yeah, yeah.” I flapped a hand. “Listen. I hate flexing like this, but it’s not an ordinary house. You wouldn’t be staying in some dank guest room that hasn’t been dusted in ten years. It’s a full-on estate. There’s a property manager and everything.” I flashed a smile, hoping he didn’t think I was a complete jerk. “I’m not proud of this, to be clear.”

Raj stared, dumbfounded.

“Do you like pickleball?”

“Pickleball?”

“We have a pavilion! And tennis. Clay and hardcourt. Swimming and bowling and horseback riding.” I blathered on about the property’s outbuildings, its apartments and cottages, the bass-filled lake. “You’d have your own space, with plenty of room for any future stink badgers. You could even sublet your apartment in the meantime and make some extra cash.”

I stopped to regain my bearings. Yes, this was a good plan, but also, I slightly hated myself. I’d never had to worry about housing, and it felt gross to play on his fear, but times were tough out here.

“What if I agreed to this?” Raj said, and my body rocked with a confusing mixture of excitement and dread. “What’s the long-term plan? We live together until death do us part?”

“Ew. Gross. No. I’m not going to be in San Diego for more than a few months. It’d be a temporary arrangement, long enough to see whether you’re the antidote. Maybe, if it works, you could give me a lock of hair or a toenail clipping or something.”

I was sixty percent joking, but Raj was one hundred percent horrified. His lips were hiked up and curled back.

“What about a piece of clothing?” I tried. “It’d have to be dirty, of course.”

“Are you some kind of pervert?”

“Get over yourself,” I said, glad I hadn’t mentioned a skin shaving, which was another possibility that’d popped into my head. “For the record, girls are asked for their underwear all the time.”

“And they absolutely shouldn’t hand it over to any weirdo who asks,” Raj said.

“Men are so dramatic,” I muttered, picturing Sydney’s mug. MALE TEARS. Was that a possible avenue, vis-à-vis Raj? Probably best to ask later, given the trajectory of this conversation.

Raj sighed. “Listen, Gabby. You seem like a nice girl, and I understand how PBS messes with your shit, but I can’t abandon my entire life, however pathetic it may appear to you.”

“Not pathetic at all,” I said, but Raj wasn’t done.

“I rent my apartment. I lease my car. My bank account has about two months of runway, and I pray to God that any potential employers don’t find out about the trolley incident. If I don’t hang on to what little I have, what does it say about my life? I have to believe there’s some point to me. And it’s not going to help if I’m living as someone else’s talisman. If there’s one thing my clients at Legal Aid have taught me, it’s humans need to feel valued.”

“I’ll pay you a million dollars.” The words shot out of me, unexpected and mortifying, like a fart. Raj’s eyes bulged out of his skull. “I wouldn’t be able to pay you for a few months,” I added. “But in December, I’m supposed to come into an inheritance.” It had to be at least a million dollars, right? Probably more. Even if I gave Raj most of it, I’d have enough left over to get the Collective into the black.

“How could it possibly be worth that much to you?” Raj said. “Especially since we don’t know it will work. What if I moved in and you flared?”

“You’d still get the money,” I said, wondering what the hell I was doing. Then again, I didn’t have a million dollars now, so what did it matter if I gave away a million dollars in December? I needed to think of this like a clinical study for a new drug. Trials were expensive. Most did not pan out, but when one did, it could change lives. And if I cured PBS, it’d save me money in the long run. Maybe the math mathed after all.

“A million dollars.” Raj studied me for a thousand years. “How would that work for tax purposes?”

“Are you really over here asking about tax planning? Please consider it? Even if you don’t mean it, can you pretend you’ll sleep on it or something?”

Raj exhaled. “Sure, Gabby, I’ll think about it.”

I grinned.Off to the races, I thought.

October

Chapter Thirty-Two