“VanHorn is Tessa’s stepfather.”
I freeze.
I didn’t find anything about her being linked to VanHorn.
“So why the fuck is she driving me around? You do realize it’s totally unethical and moreover dangerous for her.” I growl. People tend to hate when you discover their secrets and they sometimes become a little erratic. I don’t know what Tessa’s relationship with her stepfather is, but I’m fairly certain he won’t appreciate his stepdaughter helping us dig into his life and trying to ruin his reputation.
“Jackson and I thought about it, anyway he knows she’s our friend and that Quinn has been taking care of her since King died. Not that her mother helped since Tessa decided to jump off cliffs. They both checked out and barely talk to her anymore. I don’t think she even knows her stepfather is thinking of running for Senate. I prefer her to be close to you and protected than driving around like a lunatic and end up the latest statistic of car accidents in Virginia.”
I roll my eyes hearing so. “You know… she drives extremely well. I don’t think she’ll end up causing an accident at all.” I don’t miss the amused glare and smirk on Mark’s face.
“Don’t…” I tell him raising one eyebrow to warn him not to say what he’s thinking.
“Don’t what?” He teases.
“Don’t say it, Twilight. Just don’t.” I shake my head to warn him.
“Okay…” he raises his hands in a defensive motion. “I won’t say that you like her,” the asshole says with pride.
“Fucking Dammit, Mark!” I bring my hands to my hair. Hearing it out loud hurts. I’m not ready to like someone else. Not in a romantic way. “Why would you say that?”
“Because I never spare you with the truth, Le Pew. That’s how you got your call name Mr. Smelly Frenchie, and that’s how it has always been.”
“You and your fucking vow to tell me the truth and all the truth until death does us part. I didn’t smell bad then, and I don’t smell bad now! Because I can speak French like a native doesn’t mean I smell. French people don’t smell.” I argue.
That’s something he has told me for years. As soon as he heard I grew up in Paris, and one time I didn’t have time to shower before getting to the training camp, he called me Le Pew. I wished my teammate would give me another call name, but Mark had made sure it stuck through every mission by telling each of our classmates and making sure they carry on the name wherever they were. The call name stuck like wax to my balls, and removing it was nearly impossible. Not that I had ever tried to wax my balls.
“Good try changing the subject, man… You like Tessa…”
“We aren’t ready for anything…” I stupidly answer. At the face Mark is making, I know I said too much.
“Not what I was expecting. So you have thought about her and about being ready to have a relationship with her?”
I sigh. ”Mark… do you want me to paint your nails while we’re at it?”
“I’d love that Le Pew. But first, let’s have a beer, and while I have you vulnerable, why don’t you tell me what’s happened to you since Elaine died?”
“I already told you I don’t drink anymore.”
“Yeah, and I believe that’s the cause of the massive stick you have up your ass. I spoke a lot with Anna while she was here and you were I don’t know the fuck where once again. She told me you changed a lot. She added that you needed to tell me something. So I’m not letting you go Ol, and I’m forcing you to get a beer so you can loosen up and tell me what you came here to say because we both know you didn’t come back to Virginia for Pat and Sue nor for the job. Time is up, Le Pew.” He picks up my wallet and phone from the nightstand and hands them to me. “Let’s go.”
“Not to sound like an ass, but my bar looks much better than this shit hole.” I mumble while Mark takes the seat facing me in a booth that looks like it’s straight out of the seventies, but not like a revamp hippy place a crazy interior designer has made trendy again, more like it has never been renovated and hasn’t changed an iota since then.
“Might be shit, but it serves the best beer around here.” Mark slides his bottle against mine and cheers, insisting on looking at me in the eyes because of his superstition of having years of bad sex.
“To friends and no bullshit,” Mark says before taking his first sip. I watch him drinking his beer, remembering the guy I met years ago. He was with me when I met Elaine. He’s the one who helped me get the girl and reassured me when I needed it. We saw each other sporadically then, but we kept in touch the most we could, and he’s the first one I told about the engagement. He was supposed to be my best man, the godfather to my child, the guy that always had my back. And he didn’t falter in his duty. But I did.
“You’ve always been here for me,” I tell him ashamed that I haven’t been around for a while. I don’t even know his wife and haven’t met her since I arrived.
“That’s what swim buddies are for,” he smiles.
“Yeah, but… I wasn’t. Maybe you needed me, but I let you sink.”
Mark scoffs. “I know how to swim, and you were too busy trying not to drown yourself to see if I needed assistance, which I didn’t, so we’re fine.” Mark always tries to make light of things in the worst of any situation.
“Mark, what I’m trying to say is…” And
