The Accords Triptych (Book 2): Bloodstream

by Ian Thomas

“That supposed to scare me?”

  “Then what does?”

  “Losing you. Like I lost Dylan all those years. Thought you got that, family being what it is to you.”

  The wolf faltered. Then retreated, the shape melting back into that of his friend. Stricken, Matteo seemed to see McLachlan for the first time.

  “I-I’m sorry.”

  “You don’t need to apologize,” McLachlan said. “You just need to be you again.”

  “I failed you.”

  “How?”

  “I–”

  But he was overcome. Staggering back, he dropped onto the couch, body racked with sobs. He doubled over, head almost between his knees.

  McLachlan sat beside him, resting a hand on his friend’s back as he wept.

  XVIII

  No amount of rest – not even five hours in the car – could prepare Rebecca for what was awaiting her and Hayley on their doorstep.

  “Shit.”

  “In a word,” Hayley muttered.

  Wrapped in a coat-shawl-haute couture version of a snuggie was Sarah Wardell. A tragic picture of dejected humanity with her Balenciaga handbag and Jimmy Choos. If such a thing were possible.

  Instinctively she wanted to run. Regardless of being a grown woman, thirty-two and living the life she had, some people always brought her back to being an awkward adolescent. Wasn’t the purpose of adulthood navigating away from those people and attaining a better, more constant sense of self? That or learning how to balance a check book?

  Muddled in her thoughts, Rebecca had lost the moment of escape.

  “There you are,” Sarah whined, starting to unfold herself off the floor.

  “And there you are,” Hayley replied, trying to remove the accusation out of her tone. “How by the way?”

  “Oh your lovely doorman let me in. Well at least I think he was your doorman. He wasn’t wearing a uniform, but you know he had the right look,” Sarah replied. “Dark, beard, terrible English.”

  “Mister Shirazi?” Rebecca asked, offended by Sarah’s racism. “Uh, he lives in four-ten. He’s a chiropodist.”

  “I tipped him,” Sarah said defensively.

  When Rebecca was about to rip into the other woman, she felt Hayley put a hand on her arm to stay her.

  “So what brings you by?”

  “I hadn’t heard from my girls in ages. And I’m still in a lot of pain after breaking up with Eddie.”

  “Oh,” Hayley mouthed. “That.”

  “Do you mind if we don’t discuss my tragic loss out here in the open?” Sarah asked with disdain.

  “You mean invi–”

  “Sure,” Hayley cried, cutting Rebecca off. Seeing Hayley flash a stern look at her, Rebecca felt disorientated. Generally she was the peace-keeper, not Hayley. Of either of them, Hayley was the one who made the least allowances for Sarah. Unless…

  This was junior prom all over again Rebecca realized in shock.

  Leaving Saint Catherine’s and starting at Kennedy, both Rebecca and Hayley had navigated their way through the larger co-ed school carefully. With a constant eye not to commit social suicide they’d learned very quickly to make the right moves. Namely, avoiding the electives Sarah had claimed as hers. Same went for the admittedly large roster of boys Sarah had her eye on. Rebecca made the swim team easily enough, and Hayley the basketball team without drama. Both girls studiously avoided the yearbook council, prom committee, class president or whatever else involved a group of students sitting around fawning over Sarah.

  And that was just junior year.

  Until the prom. Until dress color became something worthy of Old Testament retribution. In Hayley’s defense the color looked better on her. Which only made it worse when she relented to Sarah’s wrath.

  Didn’t matter much. Sarah ensured the incident escalated from Old Testament to Revelations. Skipping everything in between.

  “This is dumb,” Rebecca had groaned, watching as Hayley returned the dress.

  “High school’s already a hellscape. Just with lockers and pep rallies. Why add to it?”

  Apparently her transcript wasn’t the only thing Hayley took with her from Saint Catherine’s.

  “Great, I need to pee,” Sarah said. She pushed past Hayley and entered the apartment. Neither of them saw the look of disdain on Sarah’s face but it was expected. Hayley told her where the bathroom was and she trotted off.

  Only once the door was shut did Rebecca place herself in Hayley’s line of sight.

  “Hi,”

  “Hey.”

  “Um,” Rebecca prompted.

  “Don’t start.”

  “Me? I’m not the one inviting this harridan into our home.”

  “Harridan’s a little harsh.”

  “I’ve had my head in some old English all weekend, sorry, but still.”

  “She’s going through a rough time,” Hayley pleaded. “Plus we haven’t seen her in ages.”

  “And that’s a good thing,” Rebecca replied. “Listen, I get this is your guilt talking. But this is not Addison and the poison oak. Sarah cannot be humanized and this is not Grey’s Anatomy.”

  “Given your habit for speech-making I wonder sometimes.”

  “Don’t do that. Don’t turn this on me. We’re both better than this.”

  “I know, it’s just…”

  “You’ve done nothing wrong. When’re you gonna see that? They were going out, what three months? Six tops? Pretty sure it was three. Anyway he – one of the major players in that situation – has gone on record to say he wasn’t really invested. It was a nice-at-the-time, but not a can’t-live-without.”

  “Player’s a bad word choice.”

  “You know what I mean.”

  “He hasn’t exactly said we’re a can’t-live-without,” Hayley threw back defensively.

  “The way he looks at you says it loud enough,” Rebecca replied. “Hayse, you’ve done nothing wrong. He broke up with her weeks back and then you started going out. And that is being generous at best. Two dinners and a couple of movies. And Mouth was playing chaperone the whole time. Please don’t carry this burden. It’s unfair to you. It’s unfair to Eddie. And frankly a little unfair to Mouth. Not entirely sure how but it is. Sarah doesn’t set the rules of your life. She doesn’t have that sway. You do. And this, her here now, is nothing but an annoyance. And wow I do speechify a bit huh?”

  “Only because you’re good at it,” Hayley replied, relenting. “But that stuff you said at The Dove. About this being more drama than I ever wanted. What happened to that?”

  “They broke up,” Rebecca said plainly as if it were the simplest truth in the universe. “This idea of staking a permanent claim on a person just because they dated someone you know is pathetic. People aren’t property. Sure there’s a matter of respect but surely that’s based more on your relationship to Sarah and what’s that like?”

  “I wouldn’t want to see her die a horribly violent death?”

  “Exactly. The respect you have for her feelings in this matter should be proportionate to the respect she shows you.”

  When the toilet flushed, they shut the conversation down quickly.

  “You two are my heroes,” Sarah announced, exiting the bathroom. Rebecca looked at Hayley deflated. “How you manage to live in such squ – quaint confines is inspiring. I’ve never seen a shower over a bath like that. It’s ingenious. Such a thrifty idea.”

  “Wine?” Rebecca asked flatly, thinking whine was actually more appropriate.

  “I brought my own,” Sarah said, pulling a bottle from her bag. “But you two go ahead with whatever you have open.” Both Rebecca and Hayley eyed a bottle of gin thoughtfully. In place of adding fuel to the fire, they went with cider, drinking from the bottle just to incense Sarah that much more.

  “It’s just been so hard,” she moaned once all three were seated. For the next hour, Sarah prattled on incessantly about how much her life was well and truly over since the break up with Eddie. Between the week
in the Seychelles, the week in Paris, and the week in Bora Bora, Rebecca couldn’t decide if Sarah was actually distraught or working for the French Tourism ministry. Neither most likely. One required a job, the other being upset with no one around to see it.

  “So what’s new with you two?”

  “Nothing,” Hayley replied.

  “Not much,” Rebecca said.

  “Not what I hear,” Sarah sing-songed.

  Both women clenched. What could she know? And who was Rebecca going to have to kill?

  “Becca, tell me all about your new man,” Sarah said. “Do I know him? Where’d he go to school? What’s his profession? When’re you gonna move in with him?”

  “Uh.” She was saying that a lot lately, Rebecca realized. “It’s all very new. He’s pretty great, and no you don’t know him. Went to Brown.”

  “Oh I totally want to meet him. See if he’s the real deal. Ya know like I used to do in high school?” Sarah urged.

  Which was a heavily revisionist version of Sarah hitting on any boy who showed the slightest interest in a girl who wasn't her. Apparently she was doing it for the girl's benefit as the boy - once unceremoniously dumped - was not good enough. Of course said boy then fell into the off-limits category having dated Sarah. A high school hangover Hayley was still struggling with in her adult life.

  “I’m good,” Rebecca replied, practically gnawing off her tongue to stop herself from unloading a tirade on the woman.

  “And what about you, Hay-hay?” Sarah asked, turning her laser focus on the other woman. Was that an audible gulp, Rebecca thought about to laugh and hug her friend. “I hear there’s a new man on the scene.”

  “Who?” Rebecca challenged suddenly. “Who are you hearing this shit from?” She’d held her silence long enough.

  “Your little friend,” Sarah replied, stung. “The one you brought to our…our…” An actually sniffle escaped her. “Drinks.”

  “I’m gonna kill Mouth,” Rebecca said, planning the myriad of ways she was going to torture him. Some of which she’d read through at the chapter house. Now where would she find toadflax at that hour?

  “Is that the one with the curly mop?”

  “Yes.”

  “Oh it wasn’t him. The other one. The well-dressed one.”

  “Jason?” Hayley asked, stunned.

  “That’s the one,” Sarah replied. “He’s looking a little rough these days though. Seems to be trying for one of those god awful hipsters beard things. So four years ago. Can one of you tell the poor boy? He seems too cute to be wearing old trends.”

  “And gay,” Rebecca laughed.

  “Well, bi.” Sarah’s tone was patronizing. She liked to think she was liberal and also that the gay community embraced her. Rebecca didn’t have the heart to tell her it was probably because – as Jason had said at The Dove – she was a real life Regina George and somewhat iconic in a Joan Crawford kinda way.

  “No-no, pretty sure he’s gay.”

  “I saw him making out with a blonde the other night. She was doing a helluva number on his neck. Surprised you didn’t notice the hickey. Of course she had this ombre thing going on which of course is three years old now so maybe. They’re a cute couple. Bi is very in right now.”

  “Jason’s not bi!” Hayley protested.

  But Sarah was assured of her position on the matter and arguing would be futile.

  “Hey, I’ve gotta head to work,” Rebecca announced, her voice light and gushy. “And Hayse, you have that thing tomorrow.”

  “That thing?”

  “That thing.”

  “Oh right, that thing.” She looked at Sarah, mimicking Rebecca’s tone. “Presentation, pretty boring stuff, new client, blah, blah, blah.”

  “Oh exciting,” Sarah said though she had no idea what Hayley’s actual job entailed. “But you didn’t tell me about this new man?”

  They froze. They’d been so close to getting her out of the apartment and reclaiming their lives.

  “Do I know him?” Sarah asked eagerly. “Where’d he go to school? What’s his profession? When’re you gonna move in with him?”

  “Uh.” Good to know that wasn’t just a ‘her’ thing, Rebecca thought. “No, he’s not from around here. Harvard Law. So yeah, he’s a lawyer, and well he’s based in London so that’s gonna be a stretch.”

  Dylan. She’s describing Dylan, Rebecca realized with mild panic.

  “Oh now that is exciting,” Sarah said. “I will leave you two lovely ladies to your careers. But let’s do this again. Becca, I totally want to meet your man. Let’s arrange that. Send me deets.”

  “Totally.” Which of course meant ‘never’. “I’ll walk you out,” Rebecca said, seeing this was the expected suggestion. She hated leaving Hayley with so many questions. Besides they hadn’t seen each other the whole weekend.

  Without another word, Rebecca grabbed her bag and followed Sarah out the door.

  XIX

  Hours had passed and they hadn’t moved. Matteo doubled over, cradling himself. McLachlan next to him, silent, his hand in the middle of Matteo’s back. While the tears had been hard to listen to the silence was more disturbing. Would Matteo retreat into his armor again, stewing in his pain longer?

  As dawn crept through the windows, McLachlan felt his energy drain. Sleep wouldn’t be far off, but he couldn’t give in. He’d left Matteo’s in the past, that absence allowing the older man to backslide.

  “Hey,” Matteo said, looking back at his friend.

  “Hey.”

  “So…”

  “Yeah.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Forget it. We’re good, if you’re good.”

  “I’m good.”

  “Really?”

  “For now,” Matteo sat back. McLachlan moved his hand to the man’s shoulder. “Thanks.”

  “It’s what you’d do – have done – for me.”

  Matteo seemed to see his surroundings clearly. The pizza boxes, the discarded jars of peanut butter, the empty bottles, the signs of depression and neglect glaringly obvious in the cold morning light.

  “Shit, I wallowed good and deep, huh?”

  “Medal worthy.”

  “Any chance we can never talk about this again?”

  “About what?”

  “Thanks.”

  “Rowan on the other hand…”

  Matteo covered his face with his hands, head lolled back on the headrest. “Scale of one to ten, how angry is she?”

  “Triple digits.”

  “Fuck!”

  “That’s one reaction,” McLachlan said. “But she loves you. We all do.” He paused, then sniffed. “Except when you smell like this.”

  “Screw you.”

  “No really, I thought you wolves had like an enhanced sense of smell. How are you okay with this stench?”

  “Much like your sarcasm, it’s a defense mechanism to keep caring people from getting too close.”

  “Ah, I see what you did there. But seriously there are rotting corpses judging you.”

  “Fine, I’ll shower.”

  “And I’ll clean up.”

  Matteo stood, his body seeming stiff from hours of sitting in one position. “Thanks.”

  “Just don’t – ya know – disappear again. I’m trusting you to shower without getting all self-pity-party.”

  “I won’t.” And he didn’t. When Matteo came back downstairs he was dressed and very much his old self once again. McLachlan could see the frailty beneath the surface but he was holding himself together better than expected.

  Sitting in the now clean kitchen and drinking coffee, McLachlan waited for Matteo to talk. Unsurprisingly, nothing came up about Ben, the Cult, or Illyana. He’d expected as much but there was a hope.

  “So you gonna start rocking the man-bun?” he asked.

  “Thinking about it,” Matteo said with a smile Since The Ordeal, Matteo’s hair had grown much longer. A side effect of being a werewolf. One of the few less growly,
scratchy consequences. Due to his melancholia, none of his friends dared suggest he’d let himself go. The fact that he’d shaved most days had prevented him looking remotely homeless.

  But still…a man-bun?

  “You do know it only highlights how long you’ve been hiding here.”

  “I wasn’t hi–” Matteo corrected defensively but saw his friend’s mocking eyebrow lift and corrected himself. “All right I was hiding. Listen, we’ve had the big moment. The pity party is over. I’m not depressed anymore. I’m coming out of hiding. No more booze, no more sleeping around, no more Illyana. I’m done okay?”

  “Okay,” McLachlan replied, hands up in surrender. “Just so long as you know that. Don’t want you hitting the skids again and going to ground.”

  “Maybe we should have a safety word. Ya know if I start to feel shitty, I’ll–”

  “Cinnamon,” McLachlan blurted, interrupting him. “It’s always gotta be ‘cinnamon’.”

  “Why? Never mind, don’t answer that. I already regret this conversation.”

  “Promise me, it’ll be ‘cinnamon’.”

  “You’re a sick, sick man.”

  “That,” McLachlan said, pointing at Matteo, “I’m going to take as a compliment.”

  “Wait a minute, this whole drag me out of hiding, is it because you’re single again?”

  “No, but I do appreciate you saying ‘again’. Makes me feel like some sort of serial monogamist. When really I’ve had like two, okay one, actual relationship in my life.”

  “You mean the woman who hunted you down in college only to hook up with your younger brother after you dumped her so she could keep close tabs on you for her crazy demonic cult who then later – or should I say recently – tried to have you re-possessed by her demon overlord.”

  “You could have just said Julie ya know.”

  “I was just recapping for anyone who may have tuned in.”

  McLachlan glanced around at the empty room, shrugged, and looked back to Matteo.

  “I don’t know why I feel this is important but she slept with Dylan before I dumped her.”

  “The plot sickens.”

  “Indeed. Seems she had a feeling things wouldn’t work out between us.”