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“Did they hurt you?” His voice gets low.
Phoenix sighs. “No.”
“Then why are you crying?” His voice is laced with concern.
“Because.” She sniffs and lets out a little laugh. “If I tell you, you’ll think less of me. Like I’m some horned up eighteen-year-old. In fact, it’s probably enough to have me committed. I mean, I might enjoy the vacation. Padded room and all. Hey Doc, do those rooms have a view?”
“Well, you’re eighteen, but I’m not here to judge,” he says softly, as if he’s trying to coax it out of her. He completely ignores her smartass remarks.
“I don’t hate them. Not even a little. When I’m around them …” She trails off for a moment. “I feel weird around them. This is weird to talk about.” She huffs out a laugh.
“You know you are free to talk about what you want. It never leaves this room.”
All three of us look at each other and smile, because it’s definitely left the room.
“There’s a weird attraction to them. I hate them, but I don’t. I want to beat the living shit out of them, but I want to be touched by them. I want to gouge their eyes out, yet I want to kiss them.”
“Them? As in all of them?” he asks.
“Yeah,” Phoenix whispers. “How fucked up is that?”
Colt cuts the audio, turning to us with his arms folded across his chest. Mason sits on the edge of the bed, and I stare back and forth between the two of them. He turns back to the letter that our little Spitfire got this morning.
“Well, that was an interesting turn of events. I mean, I know we had an effect on her, but I guess hearing it …” Mason stands up and scrubs his face with his hands. “So, what do we do?”
“It’s obvious we use that to our advantage,” Colt says.
“Well, first, I’ll go see my father. See what I can gather from that. Second, we need to start figuring out who that letter may have come from. Then we keep her close.” I run my thumb along my bottom lip, losing myself in thought. The way her skin felt against me. Her moans, her eyes fluttering, fuck.
Colt pipes in, “Keep your friends close—”
“And your enemies closer,” I finish.
* * *
I stroll into the lobby area of my dad’s office in Downtown. Downtown separates the poor side of town to the, well, rich side. Downtown Black Forest is no Chicago or New York, but it does tout some nice skyscrapers that look out towards the ocean. Go an hour south of Downtown, and you arrive at Baybridge. A drug-infested rat hole.
Politicians have for years tried to clean up Baybridge, but violence, drugs, and sex just don’t ever want to leave that town. They have tried bulldozing buildings, cleaning up parks, programs to help the youth, but still, people choose to live in the tattered state that they have always lived in.
Striding towards my father’s assistant, Pamela Harley, I give her a wave and crack her a smile. She’s been part of this company since before I was born. She was the assistant to my grandfather before my dad took over and is probably close to her seventies by now. I’ve asked her why she doesn’t just retire, since she’s worked here long enough and I’m sure they would give her a good retirement. The old bag usually tells me that it’s because she doesn’t want to rot away on the couch watching soap operas.
“Good afternoon, Daxon. Your father is waiting for you,” she says sweetly as she leans on her desk and rests her chin in her hands.
“Thank you, Ms. Harley,” I reply.
“Daxon, sweetie, you know it’s Pam.”
I smile at her and nod. “I know, ma’am.”
“Good lord, there you go making me feel old with that ‘ma’am’ talk.” She shakes her head as I stroll towards the door of my dad’s office.
Placing my hand on the doorknob, I take a deep breath and push the door open.
“There’s my boy.” My father stands and comes around from his desk. You’d never know he’s a father by the way he keeps his office picture-free of any family.
“Father.” I nod to him, and he points to his couch for me to sit with him. His office is covered in expensive paintings, and his shelves are filled with pretentious awards that were won with just his last name being what it is.
I sit on the stiff black leather couch, and he sits on the other side. A silence stretches between us for a few minutes before my dad breaks it.