I watch as Jay murmurs something to him and Joan. They both nod, and whatever he said works, because Jay’s grin spreads wide. He slides an arm around Tom’s shoulders, steering him to the mic.
“Ladies and gentlemen, our two best musicians are going to perform Santa Baby for you this afternoon. Give it up for my sweet daughter Joan and my lovely little brother, who’ll be guiding her on the piano. I love you both very much. You two are the glue that keeps this family whole.”
Tom’s eyes shine for Jay. Jay’s eyes find me, his smile turning vile.
It lands like a slow punch to the gut. My jaw locks as anger rises. Fucking asshole. Fucking…
There’s a special layer of the abyss designed for people like Jay, but I doubt Lucifer wants to share his space. No one likes being outshone in their own territory.
The applause starts again, the clapping vibrating through the floorboards. It feels hollow and suffocating, knowing I’m Jay’s intended audience.
I know the kind of game he’s playing all too well. He’s luring Tom back into the center of the pack, daring me to object so he can paint me as the outsider ruining the family.
I look away from the stage and find Effy in the crowd. She’s already looking at me, signaling with her eyes: don’t.
I come back to my senses. Jay can do whatever he thinks he needs to do. I’m taking Tom home with me to Avalon.
I force a smile, clapping along with the rest. Suddenly a hand lands on the back of my neck, and I shoot upright. So much for a diamond spine.
It’s almost a repeat of the moment I threw Deep Diver over my shoulder—my reflexes go rogue in hostile situations. But this time it would’ve been Finn on the floor, along with the hot tea in the antique English cup he’s offering me now.
Steam curls from it, smelling herbal. Peace offering or poison? A reasonable question in this place.
With SeaBreeze still fresh in my mind, there’s no way I’m taking a sip.
“Thanks, Finn,” I say, taking the cup from his hands.
I turn back to watch Tom play and Joan rolling like a lazy cat over the piano.
Seconds pass. Finn's still watching me.
It’s getting awkward as hell. My nerves don’t do well with this kind of attention.
“What do you want!?”
“I want to apologize for yesterday. It wasn’t my intention to… I didn’t know you and Tom…”
He rubs his eyes.
Ah. Someone’s hungover.
“You need to apologize to Tom,” I bite back.
“I will, but damn. It’s this place. No excuse for it, but… I just can’t stand being inside these walls. It changes me. Fuck…”
He turns away, heading for what I assume is the bathroom. I roll my eyes. Can’t say I didn’t see that coming, the guy was already turning green.
I stare at the fine china in my hands. Maybe I should check if he’s okay. He doesn’t really deserve it, but at this point I have tothink strategically, and he just gave me a small opening I might be able to work with.
Sergei approaches me in the hall. I brace for a death stare, but instead he gives me a slow, vile grin. I nod and keep walking. Creep.
At the front door I turn left. Two purple leather shoes stick out from the dark hollow beneath the stairs.
Finn is crouched on the burgundy carpet, knees pulled to his chest, hands pressed over his eyes. Soft sobs leak through his fingers. The space he’s wedged into is barely more than a wooden crawlspace. A familiar space. Some instincts don’t fade, no matter how far you travel.
“I hand out tissues for a living,” I say.
He startles, clearly not having heard me approach.
