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“I hope that order isn’t landing with my mother.” Danny’s face is pure and utter disgust as he makes his way back to his desk.
Ringo doesn’t entertain him—he knows better—and puts in a call, ordering a round of coffees from Starbucks to be delivered.
“So.” Brad snuggles down, hissing and spitting as he tries to get comfortable. “What’s the latest?”
“Sandy’s throwing us treats and James is about to blow a gasket.”
“Normal day then,” he says. “What kind of treats?”
“Russian and bear-flavored treats.” Danny raises his brow to match Brad’s. “Hungry?”
“Starving. Volodya?” We both nod. “So theyareturning on each other.” We both nod. “And Sandy must know what’ll happen if he makes false promises.” We both nod. “So he knows who The Bear is?” We both shrug. “I’d love to stick a corkscrew in Volodya’s eye.” Only Danny nods. “And I bet you’d love to chop up Sandy into a million bite-sized pieces.” Brad looks at me, and this time only I nod. He really can’t help stating the obvious. “So where does that leave us?”
“We’re still deciding,” Danny says, glancing at me. He doesn’t need me to tell him that if Sandy comes within a foot of me, I’ll skin the fucker alive. I know he feels the same about Volodya, so we’re at a stalemate.
Brad blows out his cheeks. “What to do, what to do,” he muses to himself. I hear Goldie breathe out her exasperation, and I look at Danny, smiling as he rolls his eyes at yet another Brad moment. “And why are you blowing a gasket?”
“Stressed,” I grunt, throwing off vibes that warns Danny not to murmur a word and the others not to press. I’m seriously re-evaluating my bright idea to move us out of the mansion, if only now because I don’t want Beau to think it’s a sign of relaxed rules. Quite honestly, I’m wondering what the hell I was thinking. In time, perhaps, but now?
A small tap on the door sounds, so light we almost miss it. So light, everyone looks at each other as if searching for confirmation that there was, indeed, a tap. Another tap answers our question. Esther. Only Esther would knock so delicately.
Naturally, my eyes go to Otto when she enters. As does everyone else’s, and they all shrink like dying flowers when they see Otto giving her an encouraging nod. “Ohhhh,” I breathe quietly, turning my attention to Danny. He’s the only one who doesn’t look uncomfortable, which means he’s the only one who hasn’t yet grasped why his mother is here. Is he in denial? Or is this plain ignorance?
“I wondered if I might have a word,” Esther says, straightening her shoulders, standing tall, trying with everything she has to appear steadfast and confident.
“Sure.” Danny frowns, but is that because he’s suddenly sensed the atmosphere of Esther’s unusually bold disposition. “We’ll be done in just a moment.”
Esther once again peeks at Otto, who gives her another small, reassuring nod.
“Oh boy,” Brad whispers, pushing his hands into the couch on either side of him, as if trying to get himself up, sucking back air, sustaining the pain.
“Actually”—Esther steps forward, standing even taller—“I have grocery shopping to do, so now works better for me.”
“Someone want to help me?” Brad calls, looking to everyone in the room. We all ignore him. “Okay. Looks like I’m staying.” He slumps back down. “I can’t watch.” He takes the pillow from behind his head and covers his face.
Tilting his head, Danny’s eyes pass over all of our awkward forms, his face straight, but his eyes blazing with realization tell me he’s grasped what’s about to go down. “And you have to leave this moment?” he asks.
“I do.”
“You can’t wait five minutes for me to finish?” He’s being difficult now. Plain difficult, because he’s worried.I might join Brad under that pillow.
“Like I said,” Esther says. “I have things to do, and I would like to get on and do them.”
Danny looks at Otto briefly. Briefly but with enough of a sneer for me to be concerned. “I never appreciated your schedule was so regimented, Mum.”
“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” Otto mutters, rising from his chair, prompting Ringo, Goldie, and me to jump up sharpish and announce our departure.
“Take me!” Brad sings, flinging the pillow on the floor.
“Sit down,” Danny barks, rising and slamming his fist on the table.
“Yes, sit down!” Esther yells, and Danny flinches like he’s been shot.
We all lower, except Danny and Otto, who remain poised and growling at each other over the desk.
Esther looks a little red in the face, like she could be holding on to her temper. I will her to let it go, release the pressure and let Danny have it. I might not be sure about Otto and Esther, but they’re fucking grown-ups. This is not Danny’s call.
Breathing heavy, fists clenched and white where they’re wedged into the wood of his desk, Danny shakes. Whether that be with anger or restraint, I don’t know.It takes everything in me not to fall apart when I see Brad stretching for the pillow, grappling at thin air, unable to reach it.
