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“For the first time in Rusted Monkey history, we have a tie on the tiebreaker. Unbelievable.” Michael’s hand flew to his forehead as if he’d been handed a Publishers Clearing House check and Dayton noticed Kenna’s chest heaving as she did a poor job at staving off laughter. “I’ve written down a number between 1 and 3,000. Both of you will give me a number and whoever’s closest will take the $50 bar tab grand prize.”
“416.”
No sooner than the number sailed over his tongue, he understood the gravity of the mistake.
He watched Kenna’s mouth form around a number but he heard only the thrumming of his heart as Michael slipped him the second-place prize and he turned on his heel, retreating to the bar. Everything happened in slow motion. Kenna waving the bar tab voucher at her teammates. Nathan’s lips as he spoke words Dayton was too far gone to comprehend. He got Sasha’s attention and gestured for the check and his hand felt leaden as it swiped through the air.
His mind floundered as he involuntarily braced his hands on the counter. It was too early for mistakes.
Nathan’s voice punctured his spell.
“Did I just witness some sexual tension back there?”
“There’s something different about her, Nate. You look into her eyes and it feels like the Last Judgment.”
“Then you better stop looking into them before you land yourself in Raza’s office again. You can’t chase tail on campus. Don’t shit where you eat.”
He leaned into Nathan, veins straining against his neck, and deepened his tone. “Don’t talk to me like I’m some kind of addict who needs guidance. I have my life under control.”
“I love you, man, but respectfully? Fuck getting in a car with you right now.”
Dayton walked away before any more damage was done. Between the vodka and the slipup, he wasn’t thinking clearly. The Barenaked Philosophers hurled antagonistic remarks at him as he passed their table on his way out of the bar. He couldn’t afford to expend any energy on the petty rivalry, not when he had a mentee who was guaranteed to have a damning question the next morning.
8
PEOPLE TALK
She waited outside Dr. Merino’s office at 6:45 the following morning. Fifteen minutes early.
So early, in fact, that he wasn’t there.
Brandi’s words had planted seeds of suspicion in her mind and Kenna was all too eager to tend to them. Who knew what dwelled in the drawers and cabinets of that office.
Upon twisting the knob and discovering the door was locked, she mourned the loss of the few minutes of sleep she’d sacrificed in order to execute the futile mission.
Tired and defeated, she sank to the polished concrete floor, popped in earbuds, and shuffled her favorite playlist. The familiar tunes vanquished her troubling thoughts. She was temporarily at ease, chugging water and feeling grateful that she’d avoided a hangover. And though alcohol had coursed through her bloodstream hours earlier, it had not clouded her memory. She recalled with bone-chilling accuracy the way Dr. Merino had stared her dead in the eye and said 416.
Her birthdate.
She might have thought it was a coincidence if the answer hadn’t been so immediate, as if it was fresh in his mind.
Kenna scrubbed a hand across her face. There it was again. The paranoia. Reid’s influence. She had sworn she was done being a prisoner to that feeling yet she was succumbing to it over what, something as innocuous as a number?
Her stomach rolled as she spotted a tall, shadowy figure approaching from the end of the poorly lit hallway. Kenna force closed the music streaming app and shoved the phone inside her bag, shooting to her feet modeling the urgency of a frightened private in the company of a higher-ranking soldier. Dr. Merino didn’t spare her a glance as he assumed the position of unlocking the door.
She kept her back against the opposing wall while he fumbled in his coat pocket for the keys, cursing under his breath. He held a Bigleaf Coffee Company cup in his other hand.
It was comical that her intimidating mentor’s lateness was borne out of a coffee shop run when it was an excuse more typical for a student.
Once he finally remembered how to operate a lock, the door eased open and Kenna trailed behind him inside the office. He flicked the light switch and a sterile, fluorescent white brilliance flooded the room. Dr. Merino winced at the light’s intensity, stifling a groan.
He was the one with a hangover.
Great, he’d probably make her day miserable—or it could be amusing. She would have to gauge his mood.
“How is it that you get to show up three minutes late?”
His bag dropped on the desk with a loudthunkthat sent his hand shooting to his forehead. “The rules don’t apply to me, kid.”
