Page 116 of Himbo Hitman
I like when you talkshouldn’t be a huge compliment, but it’s a different one. And somehow, that makes it feel more genuine. “Okay.”
“You always feel like you have a purpose. Nothing gets to you. Sometimes it’s like life is a huge joke to you, and I want to be in on that. Sometimes the smallest things trigger me to panic and get so in my head that I’m in my own way a lot of the time.”
I never would have guessed that about Perry. If either of us is a go-with-the-flow kind of guy, it’s him. The panicky thing … I wouldn’t have guessed that either, but I guess it makes sense. It’s what had him jump into this hitman thing without stopping and thinking it through.
“And then the other thing,” he continues, throwing me a sly look. “Is your name.”
I try to figure out where he’s going with that and come up empty. “My name?”
“Yeah. I can’t for the life of me figure out how someone that’s as filthy as you are was sainted.”
I stare at him, waiting for the meaning of what he’s saying to sink in. I’m still lost. “What?”
“Don’t get me wrong, I think it’s awesome. Ah—both things. How amazing you are at sexandbeing recognized in that way.”
“Recognized?”
“Yeah.” He turns curious eyes on me. “How did it happen anyway? I didn’t even realize saints were still a thing these days.”
Saints. How didithappen? Does … holy shit. Is he saying …
I stare at him, waiting for him to drop the act. He doesn’t. He just goes on waiting for an answer, and it slowly sinks in thatI’mthe one who has to give it to him. “Perry … do you, umm …” How the fuck do I even ask this? “Do you think my name is Clare?”
His eyebrows crumple in confusion. “Yes?”
“Clare being my whole name. And saint being the title?”
His lips twitch, but not like he’s about to shout, “Got you,” and more like he’s worried aboutmymental well-being. “Yes. That is what you’ve been answering to.”
“My name isSt. Clare.”
“I know.”
“ReillySt. Clare.”
The shadow of a smile evaporates, and his face scrunches up. “Reilly?”
“And my brother is Colin St. Clare.”
“Reilly?” His tone inches louder.
“That’s the part you’re stuck on?”
“You don’t look like a Reilly.”
“That doesn’t make it not my name.”
He turns away, lips parted, staring at the cabin like he’s waiting for aliens to jump out of it. Then, his good hand goes to his head. “What is happening right now?”
That, more than anything, makes me laugh. How the fuck is Perry so … Perry.
“Youreallythought I’d been sainted? Like … like … those old people Catholic schools are named after?”
His eyes widen a little. “Umm … no?”
Another laugh wheezes from me. “I say this with complete and utter sincerity: never change.”
His embarrassment slowly melts away until he’s smiling too. “I’m a mess.”
