by Logan Fox
A few minutes later, Ivy stepped through the archway.
Pearl glanced at the girl, turned away, and then did a double-take.
“Hi,” Pearl said, her voice sounding too tight.
Ivy cocked an eyebrow at her, her lips twisting. The girl tugged at her skirt trying — like Pearl — to will a longer hem onto the thing.
“Done this before?” Pearl whispered.
Ivy took up her station on the other side of the archway and shrugged her shoulders. Her curly brown hair was loose, bouncing just past her shoulders. She gave her head a shake.
“The girl you replaced did. Janice. Didn’t really say much.” Ivy brought her hand up, almost subconsciously, and began stroking the back of her neck. Probably toying with her piercings.
Pearl faced forward again, letting her eyes slide over the view outside. It was raining. Someone had turned up the heat in the dining room to just past bearable. The windows were misted, smudging the mountains and fields outside to abstract strokes of grey and green. A grey sky completed the painting, occasional flashes of far-off lightning the only evidence of movement.
“Don’t you two look ravishing.”
Pearl jerked at the unexpected sound of Tanner’s voice. He stood on the room’s threshold, sharing his attention between Ivy and Pearl. She pushed back her shoulders, tilting her chin up as she faced forward again.
“Maybe I’ll have dessert first,” Tanner mused to himself as he stepped deeper into the room.
The dining room table — a huge circle of dark wood, had only a tall, elegantly-decorated shisha as a centerpiece.
Tanner’s Caribbean cocktail of a cologne washed over her as he walked past her. He had a wine glass in his hand, liquid the color of dried blood sloshing from rim to rim as he walked.
And he wore a suit.
That, more than anything, was what made Pearl’s skin crawl. His sandy hair had been tamed into a classy comb over that — surprisingly — shaved another few years off his appearance. Now he looked anywhere between thirty-five and forty… if you didn’t spend too much time investigating the crow’s feet at his eyes and the laugh lines around his broad mouth.
“Digging my duds?” Tanner set his glass on the table, twisting to face Pearl. He tugged at the suit’s lapels and ran his hands down his chest, smoothing the lustrous fabric over his stomach.
It was navy. He’d paired it with a gleaming white shirt and a tie just a shade lighter than the suit. It was almost impossible to believe this was the same guy that had been wearing canary-yellow swimming trunks the other day. Or that he sported a body full of tattoos beneath that somber fabric, either.
“Malik!” Tanner called out. “Come on in.”
Pearl swung to the archway in time to meet the gaze of a tall, lithe man as he stepped inside the room. He ducked his head to Tanner, gave Pearl and Ivy a fleeting glance, and made his way to the table where Tanner had pulled out a chair for himself.
The man wore a suit too; his was charcoal grey, subtly pin-striped. It made his yellow-brown eyes seem bright in comparison with his tanned skin and dark hair.
Neither of them wore shoes.
They’d barely taken their seats before something tugged at Pearl’s skirt. She swung to the doorway, struggling to take her eyes off Malik’s commanding straight-backed posture and immaculately styled tar-black hair.
“What?” Pearl whispered.
“Drinks,” was all Suzie said before disappearing again.
Pearl exchanged a frown with Ivy.
They followed the girl through the hallway and into the kitchen. The smell of coriander and cumin, hot air, and indecipherable cursing met them like a slamming door as they stopped inside the crowded room.
Not that there were many people inside: it was just the chef. But Scotty moved around the kitchen like a small tornado, expressive curses following her from boiling pot to frying pan to roasting oven. There were so many discarded bowls and spoons and utensils lying around that Pearl was still working her gaze to the pissed off redhead when the woman suddenly spun around, faced them, and slammed her hands over her hips.
“You!” An imperious finger stabbed toward Pearl. “You make me wait? It gets cold, I must do again!”
“What?”
Scotty glared at her, stabbed that same finger toward a set of trays, and then turned her righteous anger to Ivy.
“Take, take!”
The chef spun around, attacking one of the dishes behind her with renewed vigor.
“Okhu`el!”
Pearl threw Ivy a wide-eyed glance before scooping up one of the trays. Waitressing: God, the memories.
Pearl followed Ivy from the kitchen, peering curiously at the bowl filled with dried dates. Beside it, a copper tray with a cluster of matching copper utensils: a cup, a covered sugar bowl, a small, long-handled pitcher. The aroma of dark, rich coffee filled her nose with every step as she followed Ivy into the dining room.
Ivy strutted perfectly on her tall stilettos, tray held on one hand and to the side.
She’d obviously been a waitress before, too.
The girl made to go around Tanner’s chair, but the man looked up and stuck out his arm, herding her between him and Malik.
“Right here, baby girl.” Tanner ran his palm over the empty table stretching from his elbow to Malik’s hand.
Ivy paused, ducked her head, and began unpacking her tray in front of Malik. Pearl waited a few steps behind her, her gaze again latching onto the sedate businessman.
When he’d walked through the door, his scent had made her draw a deep breath through her nose. Traces of it reached her now, growing stronger the longer she stood here. It was woody. Almost… animalistic. It brought a flash of memory to her: one of the happiest days of her life.
It had been the day after her fifth foster family had taken her in. She’d gone to sleep the previous night fighting her tears until they’d overwhelmed her with their persistence. When she’d woken up — puffy eyed and groggy from sleep — Charles and Louisa had told her they were taking the whole family down to the lake for the day. A way of introducing Pearl to everyone, and themselves to her.
She’d spent most of the day waiting for the other shoe to drop; would Charles get drunk and start hitting on her? Or would Louisa slap her when no one was looking? Would one of the other three kids play pranks on her; pinching her, tripping her, putting bugs in her food?
But that second shoe had never dropped.
The day had been perfect.
They’d had hotdogs and potato salad — with root beer to wash it down. She’d swum in the lake, baking dry in the sun as the water dripped from her skin soaked into the deck beneath her.
That’s what Malik smelled like. That day. That deck. The sun and the wood and the mossy edges of the lake where she and Louisa hunted for tadpoles, the older woman giggling like a schoolgirl when the mud squished through her toes.
That shoe had dropped in the end, of course. It always did. But that had been a week later, when Charles had walked in on Pearl changing in the bathroom. She’d thought it had been intentional: who opened a closed bathroom door without knocking?
So convinced had she been — so desperate not to lose that sliver of normalcy — that she’d just turned to him, naked and expectant, staring at him until he’d slammed the door in her face with a blubbered, incoherent apology.
Social services had come to collect her the next day, Louisa muttering something about Pearl just not fitting in, the Kingstons not actually being ready for a fourth child like they’d thought they were.
Pearl blinked away the memory.
Malik was openly studying Ivy, from her long legs to the piercings in her dimples. He seemed particularly fascinated with those. Tanner was silent, watching Malik watch Ivy, elbow on the table and fingers curled against his mouth as if they had any chance of hiding that frozen smile of his.
Ivy withdrew, tucking the tray under her arm as she turned away from the table. Tanner caught her wrist, t
ugging her down so he could whisper something in her ear.
And, perhaps purposefully, exposing her rump to Malik.
Pearl squirmed, shifting her grip on the tray. Suzie had given her underwear, but it had been a slip of filmy fabric, barely opaque. If that’s what Ivy was wearing…
Malik’s eyes, however, didn’t settle for longer than a single touch on Ivy’s backside. Instead, his eyes lingered on her legs before flashing to her face again.
Ivy laughed, muffling the sound with the back of her hand as she stepped away from Tanner. Her eyes had a sparkle of color in them now, her cheeks a flush of pink. She cocked her head to the table, sidestepping Pearl on her way back to the kitchen.
Pearl pushed back her shoulders, took a deep belly breath — despite the dress’s tight seams complaining — and stepped into Ivy’s place. The girl hadn’t left her much room; she had to slide plates around to make space. Which meant Malik had a much longer time to peruse her. As did Tanner.
She could feel both men’s eyes on her. Trying furiously not to look at them, her hands moved faster and faster to unload everything from her tray.
Tanner slid a hand up the back of her thigh. Pearl tensed, pausing with the bowl of dates in her hand.
“Pearl is our newest addition,” he said, that hand tightening just a fraction. “And as new to the Fox Pit as she is to everything we encourage here.”
“As-salaam ‘alaykum, Pearl,” murmured Malik, brown eyes shining.
Pearl glanced at Malik, lips parting. “Uh… hi.”
“Wa ‘alaykum salaam is what she meant to say,” Tanner cut in. She could hear his infuriating smile through the words, foreign language or not.
Malik gave her an amiable nod of his head, but his gaze moved to the doorway, returning a second later to the coffee pot.
Tanner made a shooing motion toward Pearl, his grey eyes narrowing. His smile had faded; a tightness now touched his mouth, a frown growing between his sandy eyebrows.
What? What had she done? Not taught herself every foreign language before coming here? A prickle of irritation made goose bumps break out on her skin. She clenched her jaw, willing back any scathing remarks she’d been considering throwing at Tanner, and spun around, storming out of the dining room and into the kitchen.
“Pizdets,” Scotty muttered when she glanced over her shoulder and saw the two girls at the threshold.
Despite the redhead’s insistence that they immediately return to the kitchen, Pearl and Ivy waited for ten minutes before the chef even looked in their direction again. When she did, she seemed shocked to find them standing at her threshold.
“What this?” The woman slapped flour from her hands and shooed them from the room with a scowl, blue eyes flashing daggers.
When they arrived back in the dining room, Malik and Tanner had their heads bent together, furtively discussing something in lowered voices.
Tanner tilted his head, saw Pearl, and straightened. He took his coffee cup and tossed back its contents, beckoning Pearl with a flick of his fingers as he grimaced.
Malik reached out a slim, dark hand and touched a fingertip to the back of Tanner’s hand where it rested on the table. Tanner turned to the man, a tiny crease of confusion cutting into the skin between his brows. The businessman gave him a barely perceptible shake of his head.
Pearl squeezed her tray against her stomach, gaze flashing between the two men. Whatever psychic conversation they were having, it didn’t seem to bode well. There was too much emphasis, caution, veiled surprise.
Tanner tipped his chin to Malik, faced the doorway, and instead beckoned Ivy closer. Pearl glanced at the girl in confusion, her face mirroring Ivy’s.
The girl stepped forward, no longer so steady on her stilettos.
Tanner described a lazy circle with his hand, encompassing everything they’d brought to the table.
“Clear this up, will you? And then tell Scotty we’re ready.”
Tanner’s gaze slid past Ivy, fixing with sudden intensity on Pearl. She looked at her shifting feet.
What the hell? Was he still pissed off with her? Was that why Malik didn’t want her serving them anymore?
Ivy managed to get everything except Tanner’s half-empty date bowl on her tray. She cast a quick, pleading glance over her shoulder at Pearl.
Pearl hesitated for a second, her eyes going to Malik and then Tanner. A hush hung over the room, broken only by the distant clatter of Scotty in the kitchen.
Screw it. Pearl stepped forward, taking the bowl Ivy handed to her and settling it on her tray. At least, this way, she could leave the room with Ivy and not be subjected to more stares from Tanner.
In the kitchen, Scotty already had another two trays ready for them.
“Hey,” Pearl whispered, tugging Ivy aside before the girl could pick up her tray. “Do you get the feeling there’s something strange going on here?”
“Strange?” Ivy hissed back, throwing Scotty a sidelong glance. “That’s an understatement.” She cocked her head toward the dining room. “Obviously a business meeting, but they don’t have any files. Seems he knows the guy, but I’ve never seen him before.”
“He’s not a Wolf?”
Ivy opened her mouth, and then closed it again. She shifted her weight to her left foot, watching Pearl for a moment with a frank, unblinking stare. Then she shrugged.
“Not one of mine.”
Pearl straightened, tugging at the hem of her skirt. Not one of hers, either. She’d recognize her wolf. His eyes, anyway. And his voice. She was sure of it.
“Ch`to `eto?” Ivy’s shoulders jerked at the sound of Scotty’s voice.
Pearl almost dropped her empty tray.
The redhead pointed at the full trays. “Move, move, move!”
Ivy gave Pearl an almost-apologetic purse of her lips and lifted her tray. Pearl followed her out, balancing the array of dishes with ease. Her mouth watered at the smell of cinnamon, cardamom, and nutmeg wafting up from those bowls and plates.
The two men had their heads together again when they came back. This time, Ivy had to wait for a minute or two while they finished their low key debate. Then Malik sat back with a soft laugh, meshing his fingers over his stomach and shaking his head.
“Every sun has to set,” Malik said, still shaking his head. His eyes slid to the doorway, to Ivy.
“Well, enough of that.” Tanner slapped his hand on the table. “Bring it on.”
Ivy came forward, unloading her tray. Tanner studied the girl while she worked, eyes hooded and mouth in a straight line.
“Did I mention she has a tattoo?” Tanner said.
“A tattoo?” Malik repeated. His eye hadn’t left Ivy since she’d stepped into the room. “How intriguing.”
“Wanna see it?” Tanner’s lips quirked into a lopsided grin.
He caught Ivy’s wrist, urging her tray onto the table. Ivy tugged at her hand, but he refused to release her. Running his other hand down the outside of her thigh, Tanner kept that smile on his face as he stared across at Malik, as his hand glided down Ivy’s calf.
Tanner caught her ankle and tugged her foot up so the sole of her shoe faced Pearl. Ivy wobbled, caught herself on the edge of the table, and lifted her head. The girl stared through the rain-soaked windowpanes as if wishing she was anywhere else but here.
“See? Right here.” Tanner ran his thumb over Ivy’s ankle.
Pearl could see a sinuous shape, but she was too far away to make out any detail.
Malik stretched out his hand, but he didn’t touch Ivy. Instead, his fingers described the curving shape an inch above her skin, golden eyes creased in thought.
“A mermaid, am I correct?” Malik asked softly.
“Been watching a lot of American television, Malik?”
Malik laughed at this and sat back on his chair. Tanner released Ivy’s ankle. The girl set her foot down, slid the last dish off her tray, and hurriedly backed away.
“She is exquisite,” Malik said, casting Iv
y a glance over his shoulder.
Tanner gave the man a small smile, his eyes fixing on Pearl. She withered under that unreadable stare, wanting to shift her feet but under no circumstance wanting to give him the satisfaction of knowing he was making her uncomfortable.
“We’re still talking about the mermaid, right?” Tanner murmured.
“Of course,” Malik agreed. The man’s bright eyes lingered on Ivy for a last second before he looked at Tanner. “Of course.”
Tanner shrugged, knocked a plate with his elbow, and stared down at the food as if wondering when it had arrived. Another shrug, and he grabbed a meatball, biting into it with unveiled enthusiasm.
When both men’s attention were solely fixed on the food, Pearl sidled across to where Ivy stood.
“Can I see it?” she asked.
Ivy gave her head a small shake, turning wide eyes to Pearl. “What?”
“The tattoo?”
“Oh. Sure.” The girl kicked back her leg, twisting so Pearl could see the mermaid curving around her ankle bone. It was a dark shade of blue, and nothing but a silhouette, but that somehow made the artwork seem more real. As if, beneath her skin, a mermaid had been frozen in place, hair wisping around a narrow face, and the delicate tendrils waving from her tail suggesting that she’d just been in motion.
Between mouthfuls of fragrant food, the men began discussing bone-achingly boring topics: how recent political upheaval in some country she’d never heard of was driving up oil prices. How much red tape was involved in the import/export business lately. A drop in some or other share price.
Pearl stifled a yawn behind her hand, and caught Ivy doing the same a few seconds later. Most of the food was gone, but Malik was chasing the last grains of yellow rice around his plate with a scrap of flat bread. Tanner was licking sauce from his fingertips, casting Pearl a suggestive glance as he cleaned his thumb.
“More coffee?” Tanner asked, turning his attention back to Malik.
The man held up a slim hand, shaking his head. Instead, he waved a hand in the direction of the shisha.
