Page 49 of Fish Out of Water

Jake opened his door first, stepping out onto the asphalt. A streetlamp turned on, bathing the space in a harsh pool of light. The nearby fountain gurgled away, and Jake made his way over to it to have a look.

The pedestal had two tiers, and at the very top sat a shape that resembled a dragon’s egg. He wanted to ask Robbie if there was any significance to the water feature, but in the time he’dspent looking at it, Robbie was already on his way to the front of the house.

“Coming, Jake?” he called.

“Yeah, wait up.” Jake jogged to catch up, handing over the folder of documents when he got close enough.

“Thanks.”

“No problem.”

The house’s facade was covered in long, wide windows, but most were dark, either because the windows had blackout shades or because the house was just that massive that most of the rooms weren’t being used. Jake doubted he would be able to see much inside one of the dark rooms even if he pressed his face to the glass.

He let Robbie take the lead in ringing the doorbell, and a moment later, the tall black doors opened, and a woman wearing a black dress that looked more suited to a period piece than modern day Eventide smiled and stepped aside.

“Hello, Mr. Eaton,” she said.

“Hey, Susan,” Robbie replied.

“Are you here to see your parents?”

“I am indeed.”

“They’re in the living room. I’ll let them know you’re here if you want, or you can go through yourself.”

“I’ll go talk to them myself,” Robbie said. “Oh, and Susan, this is my friend Jake Wynn—Isabel Haver’s nephew.”

Susan, who Jake now noticed had blonde hair and wrinkles around her pale eyes, gave a subtle head nod. “Hello, Mr. Wynn.”

“Call me Jake,” he said quickly. “Nice to meet you.”

He held out his hand, but Susan didn’t reciprocate. Quietly, Robbie stepped in front of him, pushing his hand down for him as they brushed past the maid. “She won’t take it,” he whispered. “You’re a guest, not her friend.”

“That’s fucked up,” Jake whispered back.

“I agree, but it’s what she gets paid to do. Just roll with it for now, all right?”

Jake didn’t have much of a choice, so he merely nodded and followed Robbie through the stark white foyer and down a winding hallway like an obedient little dog. Windows and mirrors and sharp statues were everywhere he looked. It was almost as if the house was trying to cut him down, to expose his deepest flaws just for daring to step inside it.

The corridor they walked down opened up into a large, impersonal marble room that contrasted strangely with Susan the maid. It was warm, or at least stuffy, but Jake couldn’t help shivering slightly. Robbie’s parents were sitting on a pure white couch, one reading a book, the other talking on the phone.

The man, Robbie’s father, had a glass of whiskey on the black coffee table—or was it called something else when it was in a house like this?Coffee tablesounded far too casual, even to Jake’s plebeian ears.

Robbie’s mother, who had been on the phone, glanced up when she heard Robbie clear his throat. “I’ll call you back, Harry. We’re not quite finished with this conversation, so do come prepared with the correct information next time.”

Jake folded his hands behind his back, interlacing his fingers tightly. Robbie’s father snapped his book closed, and Jake forced himself not to flinch too hard at the sound.

“Robert, what a pleasant surprise,” his mother said, plastering a smile on her tight, wrinkle-less face. She stood up, shooting a pointed look at her husband before he, too, stood.

“Indeed, son. Did Susan let you in?” The elder Robert pushed his round, gold-rimmed glasses up his nose. His sparse hair was all gray, but he kept it neatly combed and gelled.

“She did,” Robbie said calmly. “I told you I was stopping by tonight.”

“You didn’t,” Madeleine insisted, still smiling tensely, “but never mind that. I needed an excuse to get off the phone with Harry.”

Jake glanced at Robbie, who mouthedlawyer, then turned back to his parents. “I brought the paperwork you wanted.” He stepped forward and handed his father the folder, his fingers tightening on it almost imperceptibly before he let go.

“Excellent,” Robert Jr. said. His voice was deep and commanding, and it filled the room in a way that his wife’s cloyingly sweet yet so detached voice didn’t. “And who is this?”