Page 35 of Teach Me To Sin
“He looks really turned on right now,” Victor muses. I guess he and Colson will form an unlikely bond over making me miserable.
After another pause, Colson’s voice comes through again. “Give him the phone for me.”
Victor considers, then dangles it toward me between two fingers. I snatch it and walk away in the opposite direction. “I’m so sorry about that. He’s in a mood.”
“I saw some headlines today,” Colson says like the rest of the conversation never happened.
I stop walking. “Are they all over the place now?”
“No, I was looking. But this will spread.”
“I don’t understand what I did wrong. I didn’t say anything that could be taken out of context, but this still happened.” My chest tightens until it’s hard to breathe. “SayI told you so. You think I asked for this.”
He sighs. “No one, no matter how foolish, deserves to be taken advantage of by unscrupulous people. I know because I used to be one of the unscrupulous ones, when I was trying to win cases, and it was never right. I do,” he adds quickly, like he can’t help it, “think you should have listened to me, but it’s too late for that.”
There’s a bench covered in bark chips some child must have thrown everywhere, so I brush them off and sit down. “I’m sorry for the interruption. Have a good rest of your day.”
“Wait. You’re going to this meet in Ohio alone?”
I scoff. “So? I’m a capable adult, whether or not you choose to believe it.”
“But what if people hassle you for interviews, or approach Benji for information?”
Caught between shame and frustration, I slide down the bench until I'm mostly horizontal. “I don’t know.”
“Send me the details, and I’ll be there.”
I sit up so fast my head spins. “What the hell? Why?”
“My options this weekend are giving the dogs a bath and watching reruns of house shopping shows while wondering what shit you’ve gotten into, or going on a trip to a somewhat mediocre city and finding out what they think a topiary garden is. And knowing there’s at least one person there on your side.”
“I…” I’m trying to turn him down, but I can’t make myself do it. I’m tired of facing this alone. It’s exhausting. And for all that he can’t help being an unrepentant ass most of the time, Colson feels as solid as a rock, unwavering and safe.
I glance over at Victor, who waggles his fingers in a smug wave. “Fine. We’ll pick you up on Friday. Thank you.”
“Don’t thank me.” His voice goes dry and brusque. “I’m not doing this for you. I just really like topiaries.” Before I can even process if he’s joking, he hangs up.
Colson
“Would you like a snack, sir?”
Nudging off my noise-canceling headphones, I blink up at the flight attendant over Benji’s sleeping, tousled head. “Thank you. Do you have some–”
A tiny foil bag plonks onto my tray table before she passes another one to Alek and moves on. I pick it up between two fingers and turn my head sideways to read the airline-branded label. I meant to ask if they had some mixed fruit and nuts, my favorite airline food, but apparently the back section of the plane is restricted toCheez Crackers.
Alek chuckles. “When was the last time you flew coach?”
“I believe I was nine and going to Disneyland.”
When he pops open his Cheez Crackers, fine orange crumbs scatter across his lap. He happily picks them up one at a time and pops them in his mouth, mischief sparkling in his normally serious eyes.“Sorry, I should have kicked some underprivileged kids out of our program so we could afford to accommodate your luxurious standards. Should I see if there’s a Four Seasons in Columbus too?”
“I offered to book my own travel arrangements, and you said no,” I point out sourly. Sipping the tomato juice they handed me in a tiny plastic cup, I flick my bag of crackers into Benji’s lap, where it sits between his limp hands.
“Because leaving us back here would just be plain rude.”
I study his taunting grin, then slide my headphones back on and turn away. Gray taught me a pretentious trick of listening to classical music on flights, so I close my eyes to the soothing rise and fall ofClair de Lune. I met the boys at SeaTac Airport far too early this morning. They looked odd together, Alek sitting patiently on his sensible black rolling case, and Benji spinning his metallic hard-sided case in circles while rocking out to something in his earbuds. None of us felt like making conversation, so I drowsed in a chair by the windows and watched Alek struggle to focus on a thick fantasy book by an author named Oliver Shaw. The name sounded familiar to me, but I couldn’t think why. Benji, meanwhile, ate too much McDonalds for me to keep track of.
Coughing, I jolt awake. My neck aches and my thighs are cramping with the lack of legroom. A quick glance at my watch shows that only forty minutes have passed. This is hell.