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Chapter Seven
Aden
The line between good and bad could be surprisingly blurry. I felt terrible about having misled Camilla, especially after taking her virginity. I was meeting a woman for drinks, but that woman was my cousin, Shae, who had just arrived in town.
However, I had intentionally worded it so that Camilla would misconstrue what I meant. A clear case of using my powers for evil. But evil was usually on a scale, and I was trying to account for the even greater ill of having fucked her in the first place. I really lost it to my desire, which was a clear mistake.
I may not have felt like a brother to her like Cooper insinuated, but I did feel a sort of protection. I had known Camilla since we were both kids, and the guilt of that came on full force. It was best to end anything that might form before it could begin. It would be better in the long run, even if it meant hurting her a bit now. We could be friends, that was all.
The bar I was meeting my cousin at was one of the nicer ones in town. Not exactly a champagne fountain kind of place but several steps above a dive. I didn’t want to shake Shae’s sensibilities too much. She had been a nurse for several years and had seen it all, but I still tried to make things as easy on her as possible. This was especially true now that she has just gotten done with a nasty divorce.
If there was anything my time in the military taught me, it was just because you can handle a situation, it wasn’t healthy to do it too much. It struck me as kind of funny, honestly. The professional and healer and the professional soldier both suffering similar damage.
Shae was already at the bar when I arrived. She must have used GPS. My cousin was easy to spot. The bubble gum pink ponytail she still sported, despite being in her late twenties, practically glowing in the near dark.
“What’s new, pussycat?”
“Really?” Shae asked, cocking a perfectly arched eyebrow.
“What’s the story, morning glory?”
She laughed. “A bit better. At least your getting into the right generation.”
“What are you having?”
“Brown cow.”
“Good choice.”
“Brown cow,” the bartender said, putting the tumbler down in front of Shae.
“Thanks,” Shae said, it being unclear where the gratitude was directed.
“What will you have?” the bartender asked, noticing me.
“Rum and diet coke and put an umbrella in it.”
“Funny,” the bartender said, without a shred of humor. He stalked away, presumably to make my drink.
“Still avoiding sugar?” Shae asked, taking a sip of her chocolaty-looking drink.
“Yep.” I sat on the barstool next to her.
“Good, health-wise, I would mean.”
“So, I’m told.”
“Are you seeing anyone?” Shae asked.
“Sure, lots of people.”
She shook her head. “No, I mean—”
“I know and no. I’m trying the Larkin method.”
“The what?”
“The Larkin method. Named after the Canadian cartoonist Beau Larkin who, in addition to being a genius, was notoriously reclusive and famously celibate. He pretty much disappeared in the early ‘80s.”
