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“Rough night?” I look at him over the rim of my mug, my hip propped against the counter. “Drank one too many?”
He doesn’t reply, pouring himself a huge mug of coffee.
“Or did you spend the night having wild monkey sex? Tantric sex? Underwater se—”
“Shut up, Merc.”
I lift my brows and salute him with my coffee. “Yessir.”
He observes me as he takes a seat at the table. “You’ve been sleeping better lately.”
In contrast he looks like he hasn’t slept in days, but I keep my observation behind my teeth. I nod, sip my coffee. “Not keeping you up at night anymore?”
“Told you, I don’t sleep much.”
Yeah, buddy, obviously. “Look, JC… I’m sorry about the other day. I don’t know what got into me.”
He nods, gives me a faint smile.
Relaxing, I sit down across from him. “So what’s your story?”
“Story? There’s no story.”
“We all have one, man. Where are you coming from, who’s your family, where are you going? What was the turning point in your life?”
“What’s yours?”
“Mine…” Dark, blood, dreams, a secret. A secret even I am not sure of. No… I give this some thought. “When I found out who my dad is. It sort of knocked the world off its axis.”
“Why? Is he someone famous?”
“Rather infamous. He’s a douchebag I’ve known all my life. His son, my half-brother, is a carbon copy where behavior is concerned.” A bully, in fact, but let’s not get into that. “He left my mom without any support to work three jobs to raise us, and all the while he lived a few miles down the road from us.”
He looks a bit stunned—that my dad didn’t turn out to be an incognito movie star, maybe? Yeah, boring tale.
But then he says, “So your turning point wasn’t something you did.”
I consider this. “Right. Well, unless you consider punching said half-brother and helping save my sister from a crazy stalker.”
He gives a tired grin. “So you’re a secret superhero?”
“Don’t I wish. You’re not gonna get any glamorous stories outta me, man. Poor as dirt, boring as fuck, that was always my life. Not that it wasn’t a good life. I got a great family. Wouldn’t change them for the world.”
“Except for your dad. And half-brother.”
“That’s right.” I drink more coffee, and by the time I finish my mug and stand up to get some more, I’ve more or less given up on him giving away anything about himself.
Despite sleeping better, I’m tired. I’ve got classes, and assignments, and work at the garage later on, and hopefully Cos will drop by in the evening.
To my surprise, he says, “I’ve made mistakes in my life.”
I’ll be damned. JC Carlton, opening up to me? “And?”
“And what? I’ve hurt people.”
I give him a curious look. He seems the same age as myself, certainly not old enough to wreck lives, as you’d think from the gravity of his tone.
Then again, maybe age has nothing to do with wreckage.
