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“Yes.”
“It just seems…”
“Stupid,” she answers for me.
“Well...” I pause and then say—”Why did you let yourself?”
Gwen laughs. Her laugh is throaty and I can’t help but grin at the mischief in it.
“Love is something that happens to you. You don’t necessarily invite it in.”
That doesn’t really sound pleasant at all. Control, precision, discipline—things I value, things that are an intricate part of my life.
“Has he...is he...do you know…?”
It’s like shutters come down on her eyes, and I realize that asking about Folsom is a no-no.
“I’m sorry,” I say. “I shouldn’t pry. We just all got so wrapped up in your love story.”
“My priority right now is my son. Getting us both out of of here.”
“Of course,” I say. “Of course.”
My mind goes to Jackal, the danger of what I felt earlier in the night. It has been rumored that Gwen’s pregnant sister escaped with Folsom. I don’t have a sister to compare that to, but I know enough women to know how they react to the End Men. Perhaps sisterly bonds are enough to withstand temptation. Or perhaps Folsom loves Gwen enough to never look at another woman again.
“What do you do when you’re not dancing?” Gwen asks me in a much lighter tone.
I look at her square in the face when I answer.
“I steal things.”
ELEVEN
JACKAL
The male red velvet mite releases its sperm on small twigs then lays a trail to the spot. When a female finds the trail, she will follow it to seek out the creator. If she finds it worthy, she will sit on the sperm.
My alarm wakes me up at six, her voice cutting into a very pleasant dream about Phoenix.
“Good morning, Jackal,” the voice says. “Today is going to be the best day of your life, you fucking stud.”
I roll onto my stomach, holding a pillow over my head.
“Shut up,” I yell. And then, “Fuck you!”
“You have forty-five minutes to be at your ballet lesson,” she says cheerfully. “If you don’t get up now, you’ll surely be late.”
“Eye of the Tiger” begins to play just as I programmed it to. I launch myself out of bed yelling, “Off! Off, dammit!”
Stumbling across the room, I head for the bathroom. Three hours of sleep, not even an uptight prick like Kasper could survive on that. I can’t look at myself in the mirror. Death. I feel like a corpse waking up underground. My body aches like it’s been dragged around the subway tracks for hours while the train runs over me, back and forth.
Phoenix is the last woman I want to see feeling like this, but if I don’t show, she’ll hate me more than she already does. The look on her face when she thought I was rejecting her. Like I’d ever reject her. I hadn’t wanted to treat her like them—like she didn’t matter. I man up and get ready to put on my fucking tights.
Selfish’s mouth gapes when I walk out. I adjust my dick, and she raises her mug in a mocking toast, then hands it to me.
“Drink up. It’ll help.”
I slug it back, choking at the putrid taste, but it does help. The pounding in my head becomes slightly more manageable.
