Grinning, Dante shook his head at the memory. 'Shit, that freaked them out. You should have seen them when they left the store. They were practically crouching on the ground, looking up everywhere, peering at every window and telephone wire. That would have almost been compensation enough.'
The image always made me laugh. 'But not this time?'
'Nah, this group was just sluggish and out of it. On the bright side, they paid me ten dollars for a bag of Doritos I had sitting around. Gotta love kids spending their allowance.'
Dante and I were both amused by his clients' antics, but glancing over, I saw that Seth was not. Something cold clenched inside me, and I could suddenly see us through his eyes. He didn't really find taking advantage of teens under the influence of drugs funny, whether it was monetarily or psychologically. When I'd first met Dante, I'd actually been appalled by the charlatan side of his business. When had I come to accept it? When had I come to enjoy it?
I felt ashamed all of a sudden and hated what Seth must think of me. Then, I became angry for feeling that way, for letting myself feel judged. He had no power over me anymore. It didn't matter what he thought. The last of the coziness between us shattered, and I felt my icy exterior slip into place. I moved closer to Dante, and Seth's body language told me he'd seen the transformation I'd just undergone.
'Well, you guys probably need to go,' I said abruptly.
'Yeah,' Seth said uncomfortably. 'I guess we'll see you later.'
'Thanks for the book.'
He merely nodded and then turned to put Kayla into her car seat. Her eyes met mine and I waved a good- bye, but the look of horror on her face never faltered. I knew it was for Dante, not me, but it hurt nonetheless.
Dante wanted to head home and had mostly come to give me a ride. By that point, I felt weary and emotionally disoriented. Home sounded good. We went back inside to drop off my glass and tell Doug I was leaving. Doug looked about as thrilled to see Dante as Seth had, but he said nothing that wasn't in his usual jovial style.
On the drive home, I stared vacantly out the window and ran my hands over the book's cover.
'You were kind of chummy back there,' noted Dante.
'Huh?'
'With Mortensen. I felt like I was interrupting something.'
'Oh. No. I just got kind of giddy over the book. You know how much I like them.'
We came to a red light, and he glanced down at the cover. 'Advanced copy? We could make a lot of money on eBay.'
'Dante!'
'Just a joke, succubus. Well, kind of. If you ever wanted to work your wiles on him and get more books, you could start a little side business.'
'I don't need any extra cash. And my wiles are no good. Things are done. He and Maddie are happy.'
'That doesn't mean anything. You don't think he still wants you? You don't think he'd sleep with you if he could?'
'Why do you assume the worst about everyone?'
'Because it's always true. I'm trying to break you of seeing the world through rose-colored glasses.' He paused while we merged onto the freeway and headed back toward the city. 'And he can want you all he wants. I don't care, as long as you don't want him back.'
'There you go again, acting jealous.' I tried to keep my voice teasing in order to deflect how close he'd hit to home. 'I thought you didn't care who else I slept with.'
'I don't. Just so long as you don't like them better than me.'
I laughed and left that as my response, indicating how foolish a notion I thought it was. And yet, as we rode back in silence, I found myself hugging the book closer and closer.
CHAPTER 10
Dante promptly passed out after sex later that night, but I stayed awake for a while. Rolling over at last, I turned my back to him and stared at my bedside table. I'd set Seth's book there, and now its spine stared out at me, like we were having a showdown to see who would look away first. Seth had given it to me as a gift, possibly a peace offering, yet I was afraid of it, afraid of how I might feel if I opened it.
After ten minutes of staring, I finally reached for the book and scooted closer to the bed's edge so that I could get more light from my tiny reading lamp. Curling onto my side, I took a deep breath and opened up All Fools Night .
First came the title page, then the dedication: For my niece Brandy, who dreams of great things and will achieve greater ones still . It was embarrassing, but I had almost for a moment speculated whether he might have dedicated the book to me. He'd finished it right around the time we first started dating, but he'd been editing and making small changes right up until the time we broke up. It was vanity, I supposed, to think there might be some sign of my time with Seth in the book.
Yet, when I turned the page, I wondered. Before the first chapter, Seth always had a quote, something from a speech or possibly a verse from a poem that was relevant to the book. This was from a song:
And if I only could
I'd make a deal with God
And I'd get Him to swap our places
- 'Running Up That Hill,' by Kate Bush
I read the lyrics a couple of times, wondering if there was more to them or if I just wanted there to be more to them. I'd heard the song a long time ago, and it had had that poppy synth feel so common to music in the 1980s. I didn't recall this particular part. Finally, dragging my eyes away, I moved onto the heart of the book.
Before meeting Seth, I'd rationed myself while reading his novels. I would only read five pages a day because I'd wanted to prolong the sweetness of that first reading. When something was really good, it was easy to dive into it, and before you knew it, the moment was gone. You'd burned through it. I experienced that too frequently in my long existence, and a strict reading schedule was a weak attempt to slow things down. When I settled into this book, though, I didn't really have a plan, and before long, I knew stopping at five pages was impossible.
It was exquisite. While he had a few self-standing novels, this series-Cady and O'Neill-was his flagship one. At its basic level, this was just a mystery book, yet there was a wonderful, lyrical quality to Seth's writing that elevated him above the genre ghetto. Sure, there was action and a trail of clues, but his characters were also evolving, always growing in ways both wonderful and heartbreaking. Seth had a way of describing their feelings and their reactions in a style that was so real, it resonated with my own life and left an ache in my chest. Whether that was for his art or for the man himself, I couldn't say.
It was only when Dante rolled over that I'd realized I'd been sniffling.
'Are you crying, succubus?'
'It's this book,' I said.
I had just read a section where Cady and O'Neill were having a profound talk about life, and O'Neill had commented that all people were seeking both damnation and forgiveness, needing each to make sense of their existence. I was crying because it was true and because Seth had known it was true.
'There are a lot of things to cry about in this world,' Dante said through a yawn. 'Not sure a book should be one of them.'
The clock read 4 a.m. by that point, and my eyes were bleary from tears and a need to sleep. I put down Seth's book-which I was now more than half-way through-and turned off the light. Dante shifted and threw an arm around me, resting his chin on my shoulder. His breathing grew heavy and regular, and before long, I joined him in sleep.
The phone woke me up at an ungodly hour later in the morning. Dante was gone already. I found that surprising, but seeing as he hadn't gotten three hours of sleep, it might not have been that much of a leap.
