Blood Noir - Laurell K. Hamilton [41]
Peterson and the suit waited for me to open the door with the little key card. They waited until we were inside the room. I half-expected them to check that the room was safe, but they resisted the urge. Bully for them.
“Thanks,” I said.
Peterson handed me a business card. “If you have any more incidents with the press, call. It’s going to be a mess here this week. It’s very unfortunate that your friend and his father are going to be caught up in it. The governor is very serious about helping keep you out of the limelight.”
“I appreciate the effort, Mr. Peterson.”
“My job, Ms. Blake.”
I nodded. “Good night.”
“Good night.”
I closed the door, locked it, and put on the flip-bar door lock at the top. I always locked up tight. Yeah, most of the things I hunted could bust through a door without a problem, but you never knew, some bad guys were only human.
I didn’t expect bad guys tonight, but then I hadn’t expected to need the gun today either. I’d brought it anyway.
Jason had gone for the bathroom and closed the door. I heard water running. I almost left him alone, but I was starving. I knocked on the door.
The water stopped. “Yes.”
“I want to order some room service, what do you want?”
“I’m not hungry.”
“You have to eat, Jason.” It wasn’t just normal have to eat. Wereanimals all had better control of their beast if their bellies were full. One hunger feeds the other, and one emptiness calls another.
“Nothing is going to sound good to me, Anita.”
“I know.” I leaned my forehead against the door. “I’m sorry, Jason.”
I heard him at the door, and moved away enough for him to open it without bumping me. “What are you sorry about?”
“That your dad was so awful, I guess.”
He gave a smile that was so bitter it hurt my heart to see it. “He’s been awful to me my whole life. I guess I thought, he’s dying, we’ll have that Hallmark moment, but it’s not going to happen, is it?”
I didn’t know what to say, except, “I don’t think so.”
“He liked you, though. That surprised me.”
“Why?”
“He likes Mom all soft and yes, dear. He likes Roberta best of the girls because she always agrees with him. But he liked that you stood up to him.”
I shrugged. “My peculiar charm, I guess.”
He smiled at me. “Is that what they’re calling it these days?” He walked past me into the room.
I frowned at his back. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means he touched your scars.”
“A lot of people are fascinated by them.”
“No, they aren’t. They ignore them and pretend they aren’t there. Or they stare, but don’t want to. Your scars embarrass people, make them uncomfortable.”
“I try to ignore it all,” I said.
“Yeah, but they’re your scars, so it bothers you. I get to just watch people’s reactions.” He took off his tie and threw it on the floor.
I shrugged. “I didn’t know you were that interested in how people reacted to my scars.”
He smiled at me as he took off his jacket. “I like people-watching, you know that.”
“All wereanimals do; I’ve always thought it was the same way a lion watches a herd of gazelles. You know, looking for the weakest link.”
He shook his head and started unbuttoning his shirt. “I’ve always liked watching people, but then once I thought I’d be an actor. We collect mannerisms the way other people collect stamps.”
I thought about it. “I guess that makes sense.”
“You took your high heels off the moment we came through the door last time. Get comfortable.”
It seemed like days ago that we’d first been in the room. I was drained from all the family shit that I’d witnessed. Jason seemed okay, as if the crying in the car hadn’t happened at all. He was a little hollow around the eyes, but other than that he seemed back to his usual self. I knew it was a lie, it had to be. Which made me wonder how often Jason hid his emotional turmoil back in St. Louis. If he was this good at it, he could be hiding how he truly felt all the time.
“What?” he asked. His shirt was open down the front, with only the French cuffs with their gold cuff