Page 11 of Wayward

Working for the Russian, I learned not to trust anyone. That’s been something I’ve had to unlearn this year. Trusting and being trusted. Worrying about someone other than myself. Other than my sister and her kids, my mom, I don’t care for anyone. Yeah, that’s been a lot. Z’s taken a page from the Russian.

There’s nothing in this room we could write with, nothing to make a weapon out of. Well, I suppose give Calvin enough time and he’ll figure out how to take apart the bed frame and whittle some kind of weapon. But that’s the thing with guys like Z. Time is theirs, not yours.

“We haven’t had a proper bed in forever. I’m going to show you the muscle groups to give a proper massage.” I say it with enough confidence that I almost believe it myself when it’s utter bullshit.

Zane drops onto the bed. “I like it a hell of a lot more when Haley does this.”

Sam and Calvin are hanging back.

“Get closer, you fuckers.” I drag a finger down Zane’s spine. “This is the spine. These are the ribs.” I write an H with my index finger on Zane’s back.

“I know that.” Calvin looks at me like I’ve lost my head.

And I draw the H again. “Do you?”

“Haha,” Zane says with annoyance. He’s clearly gotten the idea of what I’m doing.

I turn to Sam, who hasn’t come that close to the bed, and hold his eyes as I do it again. I flash my eyes as I do it.

“Haha,” Zane says again.

The blinds go up in Sam’s eyes, and he sits on the side of the bed. Shielding one side of Zane from any cameras.

Calvin wrinkles his forehead.

“You’re the anthropologist, Calvin. What muscle is this?” Sam writes H-O, and I move closer, leaning over Zane, keeping the view of his back from two more sides.

“Right, that’s Latissimus Dorsi.” Calvin covers the other side, leaning over Zane’s legs.

Sam’s writing speeds over Zane’s back now.How do you know Z wants?

Calvin moves Sam’s hand. “This is the Trapezius.”Heard him on phone with dad?who wants us dead. “This is the Iliocostalis Lumborum. I think. It’s been a long time.”

How, I write back.

Cat ran back deck. He no see me. I hope.Calvin looks up at me and over to Sam.

“Are you understanding the muscle groups, Zane?” Sam asks.

“Enough to pass a test that we’re all going to fail.” Zane turns his head on the pillow. “But I do have a question about the muscle groups on my chest.”

“Ah, yeah. Those are important.” Sam moves back, letting Zane flip.

“Like, what are these here?” Zane writes.How keep Haley safe?

And the door opens.

It’s the old guard, Durant, the one who pushed the punk off the boat. “What the hell are you doing?” You know what? I don’t fucking care. Just get up. Z’s back, and he wants to see you.”

Zane grabs his shirt, and we’re out the door and into the corridor.

I don’t gawk at boats. I’ve been on all kinds of yachts. New ones that you have to peel the plastic off the appliances, old ones that you have to scrape years of grease out of from chefs that had no idea how to keep a galley clean. And I don’t give a shit. Because a new yacht can be a piece of shit, just as well as an old one?the Rock Candy as an example. Though we’ve got enough evidence that proves the mishap on the Rock Candy wasn’t the mechanics of the ship’s fault. More like the elder Z’s fault. But damn, the Rosewood is fine.

And it pisses me off that I’m even thinking about it. I’d like to see the galley . . . but what I’d really like to see is a lot of us not on it. Back in Miami, maybe catching a gourmet meal at the food trucks at the beach. Or just sleeping in a soft, huge bed. Air-conditioning, a stocked fridge, sleeping in safety?that’s what I want. Haley tucked away. Fuck the galley of the Rosewood.

A guard drops in behind Calvin, who’s behind me. Zane’s in front of me, following Durant. We take a turn and go down a level. So far, I’ve only been on the top level and this one, where our cabin is.

“In you go,” Durant says, pointing with his beefy fingers, his other hand resting on top of his compact assault rifle. It’s the same type my old boss used to have his guys use. Though he wasn’t nearly as well organized as old Z, and I’m thinking Z’s got more money behind him. Things are top end. Everywhere.