Steelhands - Jaida Jones [221]
I guessed I’d have to deal with judgment later, when I finally went to meet my maker.
But I still had one more thing that it was up to me to deal with. It was something that wasn’t easy for any man, but especially not for me, since I couldn’t remember a time when I’d done it.
I reached Royston’s place in the Crescents at a little past nine, judging from the sound of city bells pealing in the distance. When I knocked on the door, I knew he wouldn’t answer; he was the kind of man who stayed in bed until at least eleven, even when he had a coffee appointment with another man—the sort who was always punctual—at ten thirty.
Hal answered the door, looking tired and worried. He looked more worried when he saw me because I hadn’t even bothered to clean up before coming over, and that was wrong of me. I just had to do all this while I was still feeling it, or else I’d never get the balls to do it again.
“You’re not …” Hal began.
“Arrested anymore?” I asked. “No, it looks like I ain’t. And I’ve got Roy to thank for that, which I guess is why I came here.”
“Come in,” Hal said, and I did exactly that. I took my boots off in the hallway, so I wouldn’t trek mud and snow all over the place, then stood there in my socks, trying to work up what I needed to say. “He’s coming down with a cold, actually, so just …”
“I know he can be stubborn as an ox, and mean as one, too,” I said. “I’m used to dealing with it. Hope you get used to dealing with it, too.”
“Well, I was a tutor for very small children,” Hal replied, cheeks coloring. “The principles are almost the same.”
“Good thing you’ve got the proper training,” I told him. “Thanks for putting up with it. Not many men can.”
I left him in the hall like a whirlwind’d just hit him—maybe it had. I knew where the bedroom was, and I’d prefer to do the next step alone, just me and Roy.
He did look like shit when I opened the door, not bothering to knock. I’d already seen everything there was to see, and I knew he wouldn’t let me in to look at him like this if I’d given him fair warning: big nose puffy and red, bags under his eyes, dark circles, and everything. He was in the middle of blowing his nose into his handkerchief and he made a sound of horror when he saw me.
“Bastion,” he said, doing his best not to sound stuffed-up and failing. “Which one of us looks worse?”
“You,” I wagered. “Just came by so you wouldn’t worry about me.”
“And not to see how I was doing,” Roy replied. “Of course not. That’s so very like you. I’ll have you know I had to hide in a snowdrift for over an hour before I was able to make my getaway. I’ve been sneezing all night and you know how my Talent gets when that happens.”
“Yeah,” I agreed. “You’re missing a special secret meeting of the Basquiat lying around in bed with your hankie, too.”
“No,” Royston said. If there was anything that’d get him out of bed right quick, the idea of missing out on something that important would probably do the trick. “Hal! Is my coat dry yet?”
“I’ll get your coat,” I said. “If it’s not dry, you can have mine.”
“I am not showing up at the Basquiat wearing your coat,” Roy told me, then paused in searching his dresser drawer, looking at me suspiciously. “It’s only a cold,” he said. “I’m hardly dying. Why offer to get me my coat? Why not just tell me to get it myself?”
“ ’Cause it’s easier than the other thing,” I replied.
“What other thing?” Roy asked. He really did look like he was gonna keel over. Funny, ’cause I bet he’d definitely been expecting the cold to be the thing that did him in, and not me.
“Apologizing,” I said, simple as that. It wasn’t so hard, now that I knew I was giving him the vapors. “For what I said before about Freckles. If he can put up with you while you’re like this, then I guess he can’t be half-bad.”
“Bastion,” Roy said again, staring at me openly. “What did they do to you in there?”
“Some of that you’ll find out at the meeting,” I said, enjoying that one a little more than