“You should get a hobby or something,” I told her softly. “Keep your mind occupied. You’re too smart to just be okay with shopping for clothes and waiting for me to get home.” I winced. “You can’t be happy doing that volunteering shit, either.”
I wasn’t sure why I’d anticipated an argument, but I didn’t get one. Instead, I had my mind blown as she revealed, “I am happy doing that. I’ve been homeless, Brennan. I know what that feels like. I have time on my hands so why wouldn’t I help out other people in that situation?”
“You’ve been homeless?” The knowledge was like a bullet to my brain.
“Less than a week all in all, but that was enough.” She shivered as she tucked herself tighter into my hold. “It was horrible.”
My arms tightened around her as if that would be enough to keep her safe but it wasn’t. It never would be. She’d had to go through that. All on her fucking own.
Vasov deserved worse than a pyramid to the skull.
“When?”
“My first few nights in New Jersey, I didn’t really know what to do. I ran away after a bad argument with Father.” She sighed. “I was so dumb. I didn’t plan anything, didn’t save up my allowance, just took a chance to escape.
“It worked, but I was screwed when I got away. I managed to find work in a restaurant shortly after though, so I had some money in my pocket for accommodation. I had to share a studio with four others at the time, but it was better than the streets.
“Then, it was just me and another girl. Do you remember I told you about the one who cut out with the rent? The landlord tossed me out, and I wasn’t... well, I thought I could fix things up for myself. I couldn’t. That was when I went to the Sinners.”
Rage whirled inside me but I only let it out into our hug, holding her close, protecting her from her memories.
“Anyway, that’s in the past.”
“Where did you even find out about the damn soup kitchen? Bagpipes said it’s nowhere near your old place or ours.”
She shrugged. “That day at the clerk’s office. They had a community bulletin board, and there was a flyer asking for volunteers.”
God, I remembered now. Forrest bitching at me in one ear while Camille folded up a pink flyer, tucking it into her pocket after.
“Anyway, with the horses and then the soup kitchen, that’ll keep me busy, but that’s why I wanted to get my room ready—”
“Ready for what?”
“My projects.”
I pulled back to look at her. “What kind of projects?”
She shot me a sheepish look. “I like crafting.”
“Crafting,” I repeated with a frown. But when she ducked her head, hiding from me, I tutted, and lifted a hand to cup her chin and encourage her to look into my eyes once more. “I ain’t being an asshole, babe. I don’t know what crafting consists of. Unless, are you gonna start brewing beer down there?”
She snorted. “Craft beer.” Her chuckles made me grin at her, pleased I’d made her laugh. “No. I’m not going to be making you your own IPA.”
“Shame,” I said wryly. “I’d like that.”
Her lips twisted. “Maybe I’ll add it to my list. I go through phases.” She sighed. “It will be nice to be able to do what I want without hiding it. It’s not like Mary wants me to watch her clean the bathroom, so my time is my own when you don’t need me.”
That she knew the lay of the land without me having to say a word was one of the advantages of her having being raised in the life.
Even if I wished, for her sake, that she’d had a better start than what she had. More so now that I knew she’d had to sleep on the goddamn streets. A week or not, that was totally out of order.
“Agreed,” I told her gruffly, “so, what’s this crafting?”
“Can be anything and everything. I like crocheting,” she admitted on a whisper, like she was confessing to a sin. “But I also love gem art, and making greeting cards, and other kinds of paper crafting.” She shrugged. “Before, I couldn’t afford it, and I really missed it. It’s always kept me busy, but more than that, it makes me happy.”
“Well, that’s all that matters.” I wasn’t sure if I’d ever been happy, but somehow, that was bearable when I thought about her feeling that.
The notion hit me then that I wanted the best for her.
I might not be that, but it was within my power to give her everything she needed. Everything she deserved.
God, she’d been homeless. This queen, my queen... Fuck.
My arms tightened around her, using the dance as an excuse to cling to her, as if that alone would keep her safe.
“So,” I teased, “this gem art sounds expensive.”
Another chuckle escaped her. “You don’t use real gems.”
“That’s a relief,” I teased, hiding my shaky grin in her hair as she slapped my shoulder. But mere seconds after she slapped me, her hand crumpled the back of my jacket. “Coullson?” I guessed.
“Over by the ice sculpture.”
I moved us around, making it look like a part of the dance and peered around the floor.
At the outer perimeter of the room, there were tables that were awaiting the auction that would be happening before the night was out. People moseyed around that area, eying up the lots on display, while, in front of the stage where the auctioneer would stand, that was where people were dancing.
For the moment, the lights were dim, but I saw the ice sculpture for the first time once I squinted away from the smoky dancefloor, and saw that Coullson was standing there with a woman who looked like she had a stick up her ass.
No wonder he needed Frederica to get his rocks off.
Speaking of... I spun Camille around in a few circles, trying to see if my plant was in place.
When I found her, on the arm of some no-hope Z-lister, I carried on looking, hoping she’d see me and would catch my eye.
It took a while, but she did, and we nodded at one another before I started guiding Camille over to where Coullson and his wife were.
In her ear, I murmured, “This can’t be helped, Camille.”
“I’ll try not to listen,” she said wryly, picking up on what I was telling her.
“I’m not about to treat you like you’re a moron. We both know you’re not that.”
She stiffened a little. “Do we?”
“Oh, yes, we definitely do. I’ve seen you with that New York Times’ crossword.”
Though she’d tried to hide the hobby from me, like it was a dirty secret, I’d discovered her appreciation of the cryptic crossword and had taken out a subscription so she could have a copy delivered every morning without having to leave the apartment. It kept her safe and stopped Baggy bitching at me about being a paperboy.
“That doesn’t make me a genius,” she disregarded.
I shrugged. “I don’t know how you answer all those clues.”
“I just like puzzles.”
I shook my head, our hair brushing against each other’s as I murmured, “Well, closing your ears ain’t doable, babe, but I wouldn’t do this if I didn’t have to.”
“I get it, Brennan.”
I tilted my head down, pressing a kiss to her cheek, before I whispered, “Game on.”
She nodded, then when I spun her away from me, she did so with flair, like it was planned, before she curled into my side just inches away from the table where Coullson and his wife were standing.
The second he saw me, his nostrils flared in agitation and he cut his wife a glance, before tugging at his collar.
“Marjory, I need to talk business.”
She heaved a sigh, but was evidently a career politician’s wife and just shot me a resentful look before disappearing.
“You’ve got her on a tight leash, I see,” I told him with a smirk. “If you ask her to bark, does she?”
“Don’t you dare disrespect my wife,” Coullson snarled, and a vein started throbbing at his temple.
“Disrespect her? I’
m doing nothing of the kind. I mean, you were the one who disrespected her by sucking Frederica’s—”
“Shut up!” he hissed, peering into the crowd like everyone was listening to our conversation.
I ignored the self-important prick, and instead, twisted around, found Frederica in the crowd and pointed. “Our mutual friend has missed you, Coullson. She wanted a chance to meet up with you—”
“Oh, my God, he’s here,” Coullson rasped, the hot pink flush on his cheeks disappearing as he stared at Frederica, turning him a pasty shade that made bread dough look as colorful as a rainbow.
I sneered at him, “Yeah, she is, watch your fucking pronouns, you hypocrite. “
He tensed. “You have no—”
Because his opinions meant nothing to me, I steam-rolled over his objection, snapping, “I’ve got it on good authority that she knows most of your schedule. That’s the trouble when you’ve got a mistress. They tend to know all the little ins and outs of your life—” Camille tensed up at my side, but I ignored her. “—you should remember that the next time you decide you don’t want to play nice.”
The Mayor tugged at his necktie again, that vein at his temple throbbing like the bassline at a dubstep party. “Play nice? What you want from me, ratting ‘them’ out, will end up with me dying.”
“I doubt that. You’re still the Mayor, my man. Still in a position of power, well, that is until that little photo makes its way around the papers... I’m not sure what your core demographic voters will think about their Mayor not only frequenting seedy sex clubs but—”
“I think I’m going to be sick,” Coullson whispered under his breath as he placed his hands on the cocktail table, the fingers bleeding white as he tucked them around the edges, leaning over and bowing his head like he could puke up his dinner there and then.
“No need to vomit,” I murmured softly, silkily. “You know what I want. A name... a contact. Some pertinent information about our mutual friends.”
Coullson clenched his jaw. “They’ll kill me.”
“For a man like yourself, who’s all image, all hypocrite, I’d think it’s better to die with your reputation intact than to live with your life in shreds, don’t you?” I moved closer to him, so close that he could feel my breath on his cheek. “And let’s not forget about how miserable I can make your life. You’ll wish you were dead if you don’t help us.”
For a second, I wasn’t sure if it was going to work. If we weren’t going to have to abduct him and torture the information out of him.
It was turning out to be one of those months. Torture here, torture there, torture every-fucking-where.
But Coullson caved in, muttering, “Ainsley McKenna.”
I frowned. “That it?”
“That’s all I’ve got. You asked for a name, there you go. He’s my point of contact.” His jaw turned white as he ground his teeth together. “Now, I have social obligations to see through.”
“Rude prick,” I muttered as he stormed off, taking the opposite direction to where Frederica was standing.
“Rude?” Camille arched a brow at me. “You’re lucky he didn’t punch you.”
My top lip quirked up in a smile. “Thought your ears weren’t working.”
Her nose crinkled at the bridge. “I tried.”
“And failed?” I shook my head as I grinned at her, unable to be angry at her when she looked so fucking cute. I surprised myself by reaching up and rubbing the tip of my pointer finger between her brows in an attempt to erase the frown.
Her eyes were as wide as the moon as she looked at me, and because I saw way too much in them, I dipped my chin and shifted focus.
Reaching for my phone, I pulled it out and sent Conor a text:
Me: Got a name.
Conor: Coullson sang?
Me: Like the sparrow he is. Ainsley McKenna.
When he didn’t reply immediately, but I saw the two ticks indicating he’d seen the message, I tucked my phone away and asked, “Mrs. O’Donnelly, would you like to dance?”
She blinked at me. “We’re not going straight home now your business is done?”
I knew my eyes were twinkling as I stared her up and down. “And waste that dress?”
Her grin made me feel like I was being blasted by the sun after a lifetime of being in the dark, and because that was way too fucking poetical for a Friday night, I decided to stop thinking and to start doing.
When she held out her hand for me, I snatched it up and together, we headed onto the dancefloor and we danced until dawn.
Today was a good day. Tomorrow will be too. Rinse and repeat, Camille. You got this.
Forty
Camille
I was nervous when Inessa ushered me deeper into The Plaza, directing me to The Palm Court, a pre-foyer lobby with tables where people were drinking coffee and eating brunch.
It wasn’t my first time here—Mama had brought me for my thirteenth birthday for afternoon tea. Because of it, I’d never had any desire to come again. I could still remember her pouring us coffee from antique coffee pots, decorated with the tiniest of flowers, telling me that I was growing up now and that such an adult treat was something I would appreciate.
I hadn’t, not really. I’d have preferred to go for ramen, but I hadn’t had the heart to tell her. She’d been so excited, so full of life. That was her though. She was always like that. Always so bubbly and vivacious. I hated that I didn’t really remember her that way, just that mental image I had of finding her dead.
“Cammie!”
Jerked from my memories when Inessa grabbed my arm, I grimaced in apology when I saw Aoife and Aela smiling up at me. “Sorry, lost to my thoughts.”
Distress freezing her in place, her fingers tightening to the point of pain around my arm, Inessa gasped. “Oh my God, how could I forget?”
I shot her an embarrassed look. “It’s okay, Innie.”
“What is it? What’s wrong?” Aoife queried, her concern clear.
“Our Mama brought Cammie here the birthday before she died.” She winced. “I’m so sorry, Cammie.”
“Don’t be,” I told her calmly, slipping into one of the spare seats and wishing I hadn’t let the past tug away at me. “It’s okay.”
“Hardly,” Aela denied. “We can move to another part of the hotel—”
I shook my head. “Please, no. It’s a nice memory. It made me think good things to remember her this way.”
Innie bit her lip and I knew what she was thinking too.
Aoife did as well, apparently. “I remember the news… You found her, didn’t you?”
I cleared my throat. “Yes.” Then, because I desperately needed to change the subject, brightly, I declared, “Thank you so much for letting me tag along with Inessa. I really appreciate it.”
Aoife laughed. “You’re not tagging along. This is the O’Donnelly sisterhood! We have to have some place where we can bitch about our men.” Her nose crinkled when Jake started wailing. It was only then I saw he was sitting in a car seat, rocking away like he was trying to burst out of jail. “Speaking of... this one is driving me crazy at the minute.”
Shyly, I asked, “Would you mind if I held him?”
“Be my guest. He might not like it though,” she said wryly. “He’s like his dad. Possessive.
“Don’t be offended if he tries to come to me. He’s like a monkey when he wants to be.”
“I won’t.” I watched as she unfastened him from the car seat then squatted down to pick him up before hefting him over to my lap. He immediately started wailing for Aoife, but when she went to grab him, I hushed him and sang, “Kalinka, kalinka, kalinka moya! V sadhu yagoda malinka, malinka moya. Sosenushka ty zelyonaya—”
He calmed.
Almost instantly.
I laughed a little, carrying on singing until he turned to look at me, big eyes peering at me before he grabbed a lock of my hair and started tugging. I patted his fingers and bobbed him on my knee, as Inessa murmured, “Ca
mmie always was good with kids.”
Aela’s brows rose. “What’s she singing?”
“It’s a really famous song in Russia.” She grinned as my pace increased. “Every time you finish the chorus, you repeat it and get faster each time.”
When Jacob started cackling as I bobbed him in time to the beat, I let the song come to an end.
“Kid, you can’t be serious. You want me to learn Russian to keep you quiet now?” Aoife complained but she was chuckling as she watched us.
I grinned at her. “I can send you the lyrics if you want.”
She snorted. “I’ll never be able to say all those words.”
“I can teach you.” I shrugged. “We grow up knowing that song. It’s a dance and everything.”
“Maybe he’d like me to learn that as well. Pre-nap entertainment,” she said wryly, watching as Jacob settled against me, his fingers twining in the star pendant I wore, seemingly content to just play with it for now.
“Better than Netflix,” Inessa agreed with a laugh. “He’s got taste. We might do things oddly to you in the West, but I think we’re pretty cool.”
Innie and I shared a grin, but I just said, “We have to be when it drops to below freezing in the Fall.”
She rolled her eyes. “Har-Har-Har.”
I smirked at her. “I really need a coffee after that. I didn’t expect to start singing today.”
“You never know what’s going to happen when you’ve got kids. Be prepared for every eventuality,” Aoife joked.
Aela nodded. “You’re not wrong. I remember when Shay was that age. Jesus, he kept me up through the night and slept all day. Little monster.” She smiled a little, then patted her stomach. “Speaking of babies, I have news, ladies.”
“No way!” Inessa blurted out. “You’re pregnant? Already?”
Aela shrugged. “The timing is terrible, but is there ever a right time in our world?”
I shook my head because truer words had never been spoken. “Congratulations, Aela.”
She grinned at me, her smile lighting up her eyes. “Thanks.”
Filthy Sex: The Five Points’ Mob Collection: Four Page 40
