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I wouldn’t.
He must’ve seen that in my gaze because his own drifted back to the traffic.
And I was left feeling like I had both passed and failed some kind of test.
That type of steady self-assurance… it was like seeing an owl soar by in the bright light of day. A breed of being that should only exist in the cool dead of night when no one was around to see or interfere with it.
Rare.
Was anyone actually that steady or that unbothered? I fussed with my hair, twirling it into a knot over and over as I thought it through. Finally, I let the knot fall, my wavy hair cascading around my shoulders.
Was this something I could try on? Not a life, but an attitude?
The heavy thud of footsteps announced someone’s approach—the first since we arrived here—and I glanced over my shoulder, hoping to see Liem.
But it was the opposite of Liem.
His name was Jericho, but he went by Jerry, and he was one of the night maintenance workers. I’d never had a pleasant encounter with Jerry. He was an unapologetically cantankerous old man who had no time for anyone or anything.
Which made him the perfect person for the exercise of trying on a Vinh Lott attitude.
I took in a long cleansing breath through my nose, willing the nerves to dissipate. As if on cue, Jerry’s gruff voice called out, “Aye! What do you think you two are doing, loitering around here?”
His thuds drew closer, and I flicked my gaze up just long enough to see Vinh looking past me, his permanently bemused eyebrow lifted as he watched Jerry, making no move to respond.
I arched my own brow—my right one, because I could never get the left one to move—hoping it looked close enough to Vinh’s and turned around to stare Jerry down.
He pulled up short a few feet away, and his obvious hesitation about his next move sent goosebumps rippling up my arms. I said nothing as I stood there in my oversized jacket and flowing skirt and waited, offering no explanation or apology. Vinh, whether by natural inclination or because he was following my lead, did the same. And that heartened me.
Without this mask, I would have apologized for existing.
And without it, I knew I’d relapse. This was a masquerade, after all.
Jerry recovered quickly and huffed, “Get to where you’re going already, Lady.”
“I have,” I replied, low-key delighted at the even cadence of my voice and clear words. The outfit aided my confidence too. I felt like Buffy in the season one finale of Buffy the Vampire Slayer. All I needed was a wooden stake and a blonde wig and I’d be in full-on cosplay.
Jerry’s face reddened before he whirled and clomped back to the closet door without a word, his giant ring of keys jangling as he went.
Buffy would’ve had a snappy comment, but I just let a smile bloom across my face, slow and steady. The kind that begged to be shared. Cody would’ve adored that interaction and would’ve been cackling before Jerry was even out of earshot. But in his absence, I could maybe share the moment with its inspiration. When I looked in Vinh’s direction, I was delighted to see him fighting a smile that so clearly wanted to take over his face too.
I would’ve really loved to see it, but he fought it into submission before it could break free, that arched brow settling him back into his enigmatic, slightly intimidating self.
No. He really wasn’t awkward.
My own instincts, whether from nature or nurture, tried to slither back into my conscience. I shoved my hands into the pockets of the jacket as the gap between my bold and apologetic selves closed, a fleeting hope lingering that maybe some remnants of the nerve would remain.
My left hand encountered something hard, and I reflexively clutched it. By touch, all I could hazard was that it was cool, plastic, and circular. It took buckets of self-restraint to resist the urge to take it out and examine it, but I’d violated this guy enough this evening. Most of his and Liem’s evening, really, which prompted me to ask, “Are you worried that Liem isn’t here yet?”
“Pfffff,” Vinh blew out his cheeks again, apparently his standard response at the mention of his brother. “He hasn’t answered any of my texts yet, and yeah—” He turned fully toward me as he held up his phone with his left hand, waving it a bit, much like he’d done with his jacket, before returning it to his back pocket. “I think Liem is Liem-ing.”
I barely heard the words as I rapid-fire processed more pieces of this man that had just been revealed.
Dark, just-tight-enough jeans, no belt. Bold, black ink scattered up his unscarred arm with no obvious pattern, save for the one that ran down his forearm and creeped just past his wrist. The mishmash of tattoos would have looked ridiculous on someone less… whatever word could even come close to summarizing this man who would not be found ridiculous in his own skin—an interesting parallel to AJ’s disinclination to be caught at a disadvantage.
I was beginning to think it was good fortune that I’d only encountered him in a chaotic casino and shadowed, obscured hallways. If my reaction to him was this strong under these circumstances…
It’d be better to not find out the power of Vinh Lott in the full light of day.
