Page 64 of Plain Sight

“I’m going to call,” Mason says. “Pack what you need.”

Gabriel and Remy head out, talking to each other in low voices.

“Pack?” I ask. “For what?”

Mason puts a hand on my shoulder and turns me.

The pile of broken dishware on the floor is massive. All the cupboards hang open. Every one of them is empty. The only piece left is Jameson’s Mickey Mouse mug, perched on the counter.

“This isn’t where we want to be for this.”

I turn back around and look up at Mason. “For what? Isn’t he—don’t you think⁠—”

“I think this is going to get better.” Mason takes a long, slow breath and lets it out. “But first, it’s going to get worse.”

Nobody goes after Jameson. I stand next to Mason in the kitchen while he takes out his phone and taps at the screen.

“Yes and no,” he says. “I don’t have any dishes left. I’m going to have to have someone come in to clear out the debris. And I don’t trust—” When Mason sighs, it sounds punched out of him. “Okay. Yes. I’m sorry there’s so many of us.” There’s a short pause, and then Mason lets out a tired laugh. “Within the hour. Jameson left. I don’t know if any of us⁠—”

I come to my senses. This isn’t packing. This is eavesdropping.

Twenty minutes later, the elevator doors open on the floor with the guest apartment, and Gabriel, Elise, Nate, and Lydia join Charlotte, Mason, Remy, Robin and I in the elevator. It’s a tight squeeze.

In the parking garage, three SUVs are waiting for us. Mason’s driver, Scott, stands by the door of the first one, calling out instructions to the other drivers. We split up into the two vehicles. Our bags go in the third.

“Is it a long drive?” I ask, once I’ve fastened my seatbelt. Gabriel’s in the front with the driver. Nate and Lydia have taken the back. Elise shakes her head from the seat across from me.

“It’s a hilariously short drive. Not that I think this is funny.”

“No. Not funny.”

It’s still dark out. This is the same night that Jameson came home, fucked me desperately, and left again. The heat in the SUV is a serious threat to my status as a non-sleeping person.

We head south and east through Manhattan.

Along the way, a pair of headlights shines in the window. I look up just in time to see a man I’ve never met climb out of a car and put his hands to his mouth, calling to someone.

The someone he’s calling to is Jameson, who raises his hand in greeting.

“Who’s that? Someone on the security team?”

“Poseidon’s first mate,” Gabriel answers from the front. “His name is Nicholas.”

“His first mate? Like, on a ship?”

“He’s in shipping.” Gabriel’s straight-faced. I thought the shipping thing was a joke. Apparently not. “And Nicholas is used to dealing with the various needs of crew members. He’ll walk with Jameson the rest of the way.”

“I could walk with him,” I offer.

Elise pats my hand. “No, Lily. No. You will ride in the SUV with us, and we’ll meet Jameson at Zeus’s house.”

Zeus’s house makes no sense.

It makes sense as a mansion, of course, which is what it is. What doesn’t make sense is that there’s no space like this on the island of Manhattan. Space enough for three houses, side by side, only there’s just the massive one in the center, with a circle drive. Lantern lights glow by the big front door.

It’s so late that by brain immediately discards thoughts like why? and how? and isn’t this house impossible? The only thing to do is accept when Gabriel helps me out of the SUV, Snowball’s cage carefully balance, and go in. Zeus is already standing in the open door when we get there, somehow managing to look like he just stepped out of the sun despite his sweatpants and sweatshirts, both of which look soft enough to burrow into and expensive at the same time. He ushers us through the wide foyer and into a huge family room with sofas and overstuffed chairs and an unassuming bar end. Lights on a double fridge built into the wall wink softly. Hallways branch off either side of the family room, and an archway at the back leads to a dining room, I think—I can see a row of dining chairs and a slim section of a table—and beyond that, through another open archway, is the kitchen.

Zeus waves in each direction, giving what has to be an abbreviated rundown of the house’s layout. As he speaks, a tiny figure in shooting-star themed pajamas covered and a bouncy white-blonde ponytail on top of her head sprints in our direction, a tiny stuffed cat held tightly under her nose. She shout-whispers ZeeZeeZeeZeeZee as she makes a beeline for Zeus, and he sweeps her off the floor and into his arms without missing a beat.