by Fiona Zedde
The place has a great ambiance even if the food turns out to be garbage.
Mai and another woman are sitting at what must be one of the best tables in the house. A bit tucked away from everyone else, at a window overlooking the garden of herbs and whatever else pretentious places like this pretended to grow on premises so people can feel good about eating “organic.” It’s a beautiful set-up though. Even I have to admit that.
The lights from the old-fashioned crystal chandeliers are low and golden, washing over the women, their table with its bottle of wine, a full bread basket, two place settings with patterned china, silver cutlery, and glasses of brilliantly red wine. It looks like a scene like an Italian Renaissance painting.
It should be me sitting at this table with Mai. Not this person.
“Here you are.” Julie shows me to the table like she’s presenting royalty. At Julie’s words, Mai looks up. Her beautiful lips fall open. While Mai is distracted and her dinner companion—my replacement—looks down at her menu, oblivious, Julie slips the menu at the empty space at the table then looks around with confusion.
Three women. A table set for two. Whatever should she do? Julie pulls a smartphone from a clever little pocket in her dress and starts tapping away on the screen.
In the meantime, Mai keeps staring. Appreciation glimmers in her eyes, which is a good thing since I dressed for her. Tonight, for the first time in years, I’m wearing color.
All my life, I’ve been drawn to neutral shades. Gray, beige, bone. Never white, though. And just about everything in my closet is from that family. But for Mai, just for tonight, to make her truly see me, I’ve worn something the color of the sun.
The dress is a light gold silk. It clings lightly to my figure but moves easily when I walk. It drapes like an invitation over my bra-less breasts, the loose waist caressing my flat belly with each step, the gold material like water over my hips and thighs. Strappy gold sandals complete the outfit along with a white-gold flower clip in my short curls.
I’m an offering, ready to prostrate myself on the altar of our love.
“Good evening, Mai.” I’m pleasant and as nice as can be. There’s not even a hint of the burning anger I feel. “How are you? I see you gave away my seat at the table.”
She drags her eyes away from me to stare at her dinner companion like she’s never seen her before.
It’s Caressa. Her cousin from that lovely dinner party with her family a few weeks ago. The same cousin who was at Mandaia’s side when she defended Ethan to the justiciar.
Mai fiddles briefly with an earring before clasping her hands in her lap. “I didn’t think you’d still want to come, and you know I really wanted to have dinner here. So Caressa volunteered when I was telling her about it the other day.”
Did she now? From this cozy setup, Mai seems to have forgiven Caressa’s presence at the hearing on Ethan’s behalf. Granted, the senator didn’t say anything during the witness portion, but where she sat during the entire shit show spoke volumes about who had her loyalty.
Finally, I spare more than a passing look to the cousin. Playing the butch today to Mai’s super femme, she wears leather wingtips, a slim-fit suit, and a skinny tie. All in black except for the snow-white dress shirt. Her waist-length hair has been twisted into a sleek French roll, and diamonds wink from the lobe of each ear. Just like the last time I saw her, she is attractive enough in a way that all of us are, but nothing special.
There is something about her, though, that suggests she’s some kind of mental manipulator and not just a moderately talented empath. Automatically, my mental defenses rise to counteract whatever she may decide to throw at me. Mai may have forgotten where Caressa sat during the hearing, but I haven’t.
A look of uncertainty touches Mai’s face. In the simple white dress hugging her gentle curves, her beauty is undeniable. She gestures to Caressa. “You remember my cousin, don’t you?”
I should feel good that Mai’s rushing to explain things to me, as if she cares what I think and how I’ll react. Especially after the way we left things. But I can’t see past the fact that once again, she’s chosen her family over me or any other sensible option. Family that doesn’t give a damn about her and only wants to use her. Granted, I don’t know a thing about the cousin.
“Yes, I remember your cousin.” I offer a hand to Caressa, and she grasps it firmly. Hers is a politician’s too-warm handshake, as if she plans for us to be the best of friends once she’s gotten every single penny out of my pocket.
“A pleasure,” Caressa says. “I wouldn’t have suggested coming here with Mai if I knew you were coming.”
“And now what do we do?” Because I’m not going anywhere.
“Already taken care of, Ms. Bentley,” Julie says, reminding me that she’s still here and witnessing our little drama.
Before she finishes speaking, a man dressed in black and wearing the restaurant’s signature gold name tag appears with a chair in his hands. With Mai and Caressa’s cooperation, he pushes the table closer to the wall, adds the extra chair, and rearranges the place settings to make room for me. When he steps back, another uniformed person, a woman this time, is there with another place setting. The whole thing happens in a matter of seconds.
“Thank you, Julie.” The new chair puts my back to the room, but I don’t have it in me to complain.
“Of course, Ms. Bentley. We are here to ensure your comfort and dining pleasure.”
“So far you’re doing an excellent job.”
“Perfect.” A sincere yet professional smile warms her face. “Is there anything else I can get for you?”
I take my seat. “No, this is more than enough.”
“Perfect,” Julie says again. “Your waiter, Byron, will be here in a few minutes to take care of you.” Then, with another smile, she drifts away.
All that and I didn’t even have to threaten anyone. If this is anything to go by, Julie just might own the place in a few years. Or months.
Mai straightens the napkin in her lap and clears her throat. “You never responded to my last text,” she says after a quick look at Caressa.
The cousin is doing a decent impression of not listening, sipping her wine then taking a piece of warm bread from the basket to butter on her plate. I can practically see her antenna go up, though.
But I don’t have anything to hide as far as my relationship with Mai goes. Caressa can listen all she wants.
“I meant to respond but then got caught up doing some work for my tias.” Before I left, they acted like they were never going to see me again in that house. “They’d love to have you come and spend some time with them, by the way. Tia Carmen said to let you know she’ll make that sauce you like.”
A smile blooms on Mai’s face. Like my aunts, she loves family and thinks it’s one of the most important relationships a person can have. It’s a shame hers is trash.
“You were with your aunts in Mexico, right?” Caressa speaks up, and though I’m prepared to be very polite to her for Mai’s sake, I wonder how the hell she knows where I’ve been.
“Yes, I was.” Smoothing my napkin over my lap, I try to look politely at nosey Caressa.
“While I was visiting Abi at the family house, Caressa happened to drop by, and I ended up telling them both about…” Her lashes flutter down, and she looks at me from the corners of her eyes. “About how we’re still finding the best way for us to fit together.”
Caressa nods and tears into her lightly buttered bread. “Yes, then I asked her about your very interesting name.”
Ah. “And that made you two talk about me visiting Mexico?”
Normally, I’m a bit more subtle about my suspicions. But this whole situation is turning me into an amateur. Then again, it’s not every day I arrive at a date and find that I’ve been replaced. Mai and Caressa were carrying on just fine without me.
On my left and close enough to touch, Mai butters a piece of bread, then abandons it on her plate instead of eating it.
Caressa tops up her glass of wine. “Did Mai tell you I’m learning Spanish?” She doesn’t wait for me to answer. “I’m absolutely in love with the language, so when she told me you’re from Mexico and what your name meant, I just threw a bunch of questions. In hindsight might have been a touch invasive. Sorry about that.”
She doesn’t look sorry, though. Her smile is warm and engaging, like she wants this situation to be some intimate joke we can laugh about years down the road once we’ve become the best of friends.
I don’t trust her.
“Invasiveness seems like a Redstone family trait,” I say with a smile that’s a long way from being genuine.
But Caressa doesn’t seem to care. “I know, right? The Redstones can be very…curious.” That’s one way of putting it. “Pretty soon, if they don’t already, they’ll know your favorite color and what side of the bed you like to sleep on.”
“Blood red and right in the middle.” I show her more of my teeth.
“Stop teasing her, Xóchitl.” Mai flicks a piece of bread at me, and her cousin stares like Mai just grew a second head right here in front of the humans. Has Mai learned to shield herself from Caressa, too?
Our waiter shows up just then. After pouring my wine, he takes my order for each of the three courses and disappears again in a cloud of efficiency.
“This place is amazing,” Mai says, smiling in the direction the waiter glided off to. “Despite the misunderstanding, I’m glad you’re here to share it with me. It…it hasn’t been the same without you here, even though Caressa has been great company.”
Great company? I doubt that.
The cousin is pretty and charming. A Meta with enough power to make her seem interesting to a human. To Mai, she should just be a placeholder, and a disloyal one at that. I glance at the senator and wonder again at the strength of her mental abilities.
Was it a mental suggestion from her to Mai that changed the dinner reservations to half an hour earlier?
“Our little misunderstanding isn’t reason enough for me to abandon you, Mai. Nothing is.” I latch onto her gaze with mine. “Tia Ana told me to double check with you to make sure our date was still on, but I didn’t think I needed to. We’ve never had to confirm with each other once we make plans. Once we decide to do something together, that’s it.”
“That’s true,” Mai says softly. Her fingers resting on the table twitch toward me then pull back to close in a loose fist.
Caressa clears her throat. “Um…I feel like I’m a bit of a third wheel here—”
“No, no. You’re fine.” Mai sits perfectly still with her back straight and her arms bracketing the small plate with her piece of buttered bread. She’s comfortable with Caressa, but the woman doesn’t have enough of her trust to see her completely relax. Bread-throwing incident aside. “Xóchitl and I have some unfinished business but please, don’t let us run you off.”
No, please do let us run you off.
But I have enough manners these days not to say the words out loud. The wine turns out to be a nice Crianza, fruity and flavorful. I take another sip and ignore Mai’s silent plea for me to reassure Caressa she can stay. Catering to a near stranger’s delicate feelings isn’t something I’m up for right now.
I want to take Mai home so we can once and for all tear apart the thing separating us.
“All right, you convinced me to stay,” Caressa says with a pleased smile. Can this woman not read a room? “I’ve wanted to check out this place forever, so I’m glad to just now get the chance.”
Christ.
I give her a tight smile. When our waiter comes back, I order a double shot of tequila and tell him to leave the bottle on the table. Although it’s nearly impossible for me to get drunk, I’m going to give it a really good try.
Chapter 17
Caressa seems to enjoy her whole life at Pleasure and the Palate with me and Mai. I can’t say the same, but that doesn’t seem to matter to the cousin in the least.
At the end of what feels like the longest meal on earth, Caressa promises to take Mai and Abi to some converted mansion and museum to which she has VIP access. She and Mai have plans to talk the next morning and arrange the trip.
“Is she your best friend all of a sudden?” I ask, grumpy as hell and unwilling to hide it once we are finally alone in the foyer of Mai’s apartment after Caressa dropped us off.
“She’s family,” Mai says, as we walk toward the elevator together. “Just about the only one, aside from Abi, who I can stand at the moment.” She gives me a dry look.
I don’t say a word. Her tolerance for idiocy is much higher than mine.
“I feel like she wasn’t around much until very recently. What’s going on?”
Mai shrugs and presses the button to summon the elevator. “Maybe she feels like I need a friend after you and I had our little disagreement the other day.”
She would be better off kissing an asp than inviting another Redstone to be her friend.
My shoulders feel tight. Unhappiness sits like a stone in my belly, upsetting the meal I just had. “I wish you’d just call it a fight and stop using that strange euphemism. Disagreement. You make it sound like I’m into chicken while you only eat fish.”
“True. I should be more specific. You having no qualms about killing people is definitely more serious than my possible preference for seafood over chicken.”
“Is this really the approach you’re going to take?”
“I can’t think of any other way to bring it up. Besides, at least it gets you to stop talking about Caressa. Not everyone in my family has ulterior motives, you know.”
“Don’t worry, I have a mental pin stuck in your new best friend.”
“At least it’s not a knife,” she mutters.
Damn, this conversation went left fast. What happened to the common ground we found in the restaurant?
The elevator chimes, and the doors slide open. Uncomfortable silence twists between us during the ride up to Mai’s apartment. Once there, she unlocks the door and walks in, leaving me to trail after her.
Without turning on any lights, she kicks off her high heels with a clatter against the wooden floors and leans back against the side of the couch. Moonlight pours in through the window to limn her body in silver. Her bare toes, tipped in red, invite intimacy, memories of having her feet in my lap and the sound of laughter in my ear. I cross my arms and lean back against the front door to stop myself from coming close.
“I missed you,” she says finally.
The words unfurl a quiet relief in my chest. “I missed you, too.”
“But I still disagree with how you handled things at the school.” Whatever softness or good feelings from the restaurant have apparently worn off.
“We’re lovers.” My fingers dig into my arms. “We don’t have to agree on everything. Just who gets to tie who up and then take out the recycling.”
“Don’t be dismissive, please.”
“I’m not being dismissive, I’m being myself.” Hasn’t she always said she likes that I’m always me with her? “The things that happened at the school don’t mean very much to me. In my job, I have to make split-second decisions all the time, and those decisions leave no room to let a proven killer go free.”
“So you just kill them.”
“You know that’s exactly what enforcers do, Mai. Don’t pretend to be naïve.”
“God!” She pushes herself off the couch and stalks away, bare feet slapping against the hardwood. Any softness about her is gone.
I track her agitated movements, not shifting from my place in front of the door. Subconsciously tryi
ng to keep her in the apartment with me? Who knows? That’s why it’s called subconscious.
Mai paces back toward me, then away. “You may be investigator and executioner in the Meta community but you’re not that here, Xóchitl. Here, you’re a college professor.” Her eyes snap in the moonlight. “Leave the humans to the humans. You had no right killing that boy.”
“So, I should’ve let him kill you?”
She’s crazier than her mother if she thinks I’d let anyone, let alone a human, get close enough to hurt her. I regret absolutely nothing that happened that day. Certainly not the boy I flung through a glass window and splatted like a bad meal on the pavement twenty stories below.
“He couldn’t hurt me! None of his bullets came anywhere close. You know that.” She tries to stare me down. “Now which of us is being deliberately naïve?”
“I’m being naïve knowing you’re not as indestructible as you think?”
Mai is like a newborn let loose in the world of rampaging monsters and indifferent gods. She thinks she knows exactly what’s going on and how to protect herself, but she has no idea.
“I’ve changed,” she growls at me. “I’m much better than I was. I’m not the same Mai you were able to sneak up on and push around.”
It’s damn near an invitation to prove her wrong. Without trying, I can think of five ways to get her on her back or dead. The breath abruptly stutters in my chest. The thought of her broken or lifeless…
“That may be true,” I say when I can speak again. “But what you do now as Mercy, taking risks you never took before, is foolish enough.”
She draws in a hissing breath. “This isn’t about me being Mercy. It’s about you having enough compassion not to kill and having enough mercy in your own heart to save humans from being killed when you’re able to.”
And now we get to the real reason for her anger.
