Page 19 of The Sin Eater
I look pointedly out the window. “I don’t see any moonlight out there tonight, and”—I glance around—”no roses here.”
He grins, and for the first time since we left the morgue, he looks directly at me. “So we eat and we fuck, then.”
He didnotjust say that. “Let’s eat and see where things go.” Whatever this mood he’s in —this post-prayer-ritual-nearly-fired energy surge—I don’t want to take advantage of it any more than I already have.
I’m not exactly looking for moonlight and roses, either, but I’ve already invested several cappuccinos in the guy. I want him to confide in me, to tell me the rest of the story. More importantly, I don’t want this to be a one-and-done thing.
Chapter Seven
Ezra
We eat and we fuckmight be the tackiest words to ever come out of my mouth, if for no other reason than there will be no fucking while I’m doing penance. Despite Damon’s dramatic interference, I’d managed to take on the young girl’s sins. Even though they didn’t weigh much at all, choking down the cracker in front of witnesses turned me into a ball of anxiety.
Over ten years into the game, and this was as close as I’d come to getting busted.
I agreed to this faux-date experience mostly as a test to my self-discipline. Nothing can happen between us. Not tonight, anyway, and I’m almost glad when he says we can eat and then see how things go. I mean, I hate to make promises I can’t keep.
I swear, when he asked what was going on, I came damned close to telling him. Only imagining the way his expression would change kept me from spilling everything. I already like him too well to handle hearing him call me a freak.
Ain’t nobody loves a sin eater.
My mind is caught in some serious emotional oscillation. Anticipation for the weekend turned to sadness when they brought the girl’s body in. Then the responsibility of eating sinsegued quickly into a complete freak-out when I got so rudely interrupted. And on top of it all, dude asks me out.
Lemme off this fucking roller coaster ride.
I could and probably should leave right now. I don’t. It’s raining, I’m hungry, and Damon is hot. Then he opens his mouth and lets out a handful of words that come close to driving me away.
“So tell me about this religious cult you grew up in.”
I squeeze my hands between my knees so tight the knuckles pop. I’m pretty good at spinning a line of bullshit, and since I’d really rather talk about anything else, I go for mockery. “Cult? Yeah, right.”
The waiter saves me from going any further, at least for now. He’s short and stocky, with thick hair that’s knotted on top of his head and a name badge that sayssvampin small letters. I order a Jack and Coke and Damon orders some fancy-ass beer and a platter of nachos. Without writing anything down, svamp says he’ll take our dinner order when he brings us our drinks.
He leaves us, and I do my best to change the subject. “Not sure I’ve ever seen the name svamp before. Wonder how it’s pronounced.”
Damon laughs like he recognizes my strategy and is willing to let it slide. “I’m not even going to try. Sometimes for fun I take a stroll through the NICU just to check out the baby names. These days there are very few limits on what people will come up with.”
“Do tell.”
He rolls his eyes. “We had a girl named Anemone recently, in a room right next door to a boy named Bison.”
“That’s fucking nuts.”
“You’re not wrong. If you had to guess, is Minnow a girl’s name or a boy’s name?”
“Um . . .”
“Yeah, that was my response too. In this case it was a girl’s name, and a couple months ago, we had a baby boy named Danger.”
“That’s not going to end well.”
“I did wonder if his parents were in some kind of cult.”
His emphasis oncultmakes it clear I’m not going to get away without the religion talk. “You’re really not going to let it go.”
“Nope. I’m curious.”
I heave a sigh. Jesus Christ, I hate talking about my past. “Well, my grandma loved me.”