"I should have thought about the possibility, with the photos going out. But I didn't—"
"You didn't know." Because I didn't tell him I was running the story. My petty impulses got in the way and I didn't give him time to plan.
"We're making all the necessary arrangements. Her parents have asked us to delay a funeral until they can come over from Finland."
"Very well." I slip the key card into the hotel suite door, and float through it. The world doesn't feel like its axis are quite right. "You can go now."
"Call me if you need anything. Anything at all. We left a new cell on the bed—your sim card is in."
"That's very thoughtful." It's like I'm operating on backup power. Utterly drained.
The door closes behind me with a thud, and then I'm staring around at this pretentious, antique-style old suite with its four poster bed and gold thread tapestries. Who the fuck looked at this in the brochure and thought, hey, Aeron's enough of a dick that he'd love a place like this?
I don't want old furniture pretending to be more expensive than it is, or ridiculous sheet thread counts, or macademias from the mini bar. I just want to close my eyes and smell Leo. Or to float back further, to a time when I hadn't held a scalpel yet and things weren't simple, but they weren't utterly fucked, either.
After a brief, hot shower, I change into the clothes left for me on the bed—a pair of track pants and a tee—and I give Ash a call.
"Hey," says Ethan, his voice strained. "Um. How are things? You're out, yeah?"
"I'm out. Holed up in a hotel downtown." I pick at a cuticle near my thumb, watch the skin pull. A faint flash of crimson taunts me. "I didn't mean to leave Ash with you for so long. You'll be compensated."
"It's not a problem," he says kindly, because that's what Ethan and his fucking conscience always say.
"Is Ash around?"
"Of course. Yeah. One sec...Ash!" He wanders off. Footsteps, cartoons on the TV. Ash's familiar squeal.
He bursts on to the receiver in a rush of static. "Aeron! Where are you?"
"Hey champ."
"You missed pancakes."
"I did. Well, shi—I mean, crap. I mean...yeah, I missed them. I'm sorry, buddy." I rub at my damp hair. "Listen. I got real caught up with work, but I'll be home in a few days, okay?"
He sighs in that heavy, exasperated way kids do. "You promise?"
"Yeah. We'll catch a game together."
"Cool." He pauses.
I pick at my cuticle again.
"You still Batman?" he asks.
"What?" Then I remember—practically the last time I saw him. God, it feels like it's been a while. "I...not right now."
"Me either. I got tired of being Batman. His mask really sucks."
All masks suck. I'm so sick of them; I have so many to rip off.
A knock sounds at the door.
Leo. Thank fuck.
"Listen, champ. I gotta go now." I press my lips together. "My girl's here."
His tone goes up an octave with curiosity. "The one you're gonna marry?"
"Maybe. I think so."
"Awesome. You go do romance then."
"I will." I find myself smiling. "See you soon."
"Byeeeee!" he sings.
And then I'm dropping the phone, hurrying to the door, and scooping a bundle of smoke and honey and sweet, warm skin into my arms.
"Aeron," she mumbles against my mouth. "Aeron, I—"
"Jesus Christ, I missed you."
"I saw you this morning." She edges back, peering up at me through loose streaks of hair. She's all made up again. Fierce-looking black eyes, smudged and wild and pretty. Lips half-kissed with patterns of gloss. "I suppose a lot has happened since then, huh?"
I nod. I don't want to talk about Tuija.
I never want to talk about Tuija again.
"Don't just stand there," I say, ushering her toward the bed. "Come on in." Then I shuffle up behind her, my palms melting over her breasts, and she lets out a little sigh.
"I hope you brought what I asked," I whisper.
"I brought...something..."
"Huh." I turn her, press my forehead to hers. Inhale the spice and citrus of her perfume. "You miss me?"
She brushes her lips over mine. "I have to talk to you about something."
"You okay?" I grope around along the rise of her buttocks, feeling through her clothes for the dressing. "You taking care of yourself here?"
She winces as I catch the edge of the wound. "It's not that."
"Then what is it...? Is it about Rachel?"
"No. Not yet." She sniffs. Shrugs. I almost see a hint of a bitter smile. "I just...the Tuija thing. It's made me feel a little funny."
The image of pale, waxy mannequin Tuija fills my brain, and no matter how hard I bite my tongue, it won't leave. "Well...yeah."
"I didn't really know her. But she was close to you. I know she meant a lot. I'm so sorry, Aeron...I don't know what to do for you, I..."
"You don't have to do anything, baby. Let's not talk about it, okay?"
"But the other thing." She clears her throat. Collects herself. Pulls her hands from my waist and tucks them under her jacket. "When I was in her office this morning, I...I found some stuff."
"What stuff?"
Silence.
Leo smiles a little, but she trembles, and I search her face in confusion before I feel the nudge at my hip.