Page 26 of Blood Queen
“Um, I’ve heard of it, but no, Papa and I make our own meals, and I wouldn’t have known how to cook this up.”
“Where is he now, honey?” she asks.
My fork stops midway to my mouth, hovering with an orange glazed morsel of chicken skewered on the tines.
“He went away for a couple days. Kid got nervous up there all by herself and I saw her wandering around town and thought I’d invite her over,” Truman babbles.
I stare at him. He lies to his family? Papa would never tolerate that. But I appreciate he didn’t rat me out either. She would surely want to call the police.
“Uh huh,” his mother answers. “Well, you can’t stay in those shorts. You’ll freeze tonight, even with the heat on. Kenzie will let you borrow some yoga pants and socks.”
Kenzie rolls her eyes at her mom.
“Thank you,” I answer.
After dinner, Truman tells me that his father works the overnight shift and won’t be home until six am. Everyone treats me like a scared animal, and it makes me feel like one.
I want to go home. I want to sleep in my bed in my house with my familiar belongings and sounds.
Kenzie and Nate are watching television and I find myself entranced at the flat, large screen.
Truman watches me when he thinks I won’t notice. But I do. I want to look at him, too, but I don’t think it’s for the best, so I let myself be in awe of the television instead.So, this is what I’ve been missing.
True to his word, after Kenzie and Nate have been sent to bed, Truman sits with me on the couch and shows me his phone, while his mother searches for some spare blankets and a pillow. With a no more than a fingertip brushed across the glass you can access almost anything.
Books, music, videos, and what Truman calls,the internet.
It kind of blows my mind. A tiny stab of anger pokes my gut, seeing all that Papa kept from me, followed by a surge of guilt.
Papa.
Truman’s eyes narrow as he takes me in. “You look like you’re about to freak out,” he says.
“I feel like I might,” I admit and run my fingers through my snarled hair. “This day has been kind of…I don’t know. It was all so normal until after lunch. Papa’s gone. I’m alone. And now, now, I’m sitting here with you, and watching a television and eating new food and learning what’s so special about these phones everyone seems to use non-stop.” Embarrassed, I slap a hand over my mouth to shut myself up. I didn’t intend to babble like this.
Truman grabs my hand and pries it away from my face. “Hey, it’s okay. I’d probably be overwhelmed, too if I had to experience all those new things in one day.”
I let him just hold my hand. I focus on our hands clasped together between us, and it’s comforting in the strangest way.
15
Present
The message comes through encrypted channels, terse and urgent.
I need to talk. Privately.
Bianca Leonetti.
My heart hammers in my chest, my stomach twisting into tight knots as her name blazes on the screen. My thumb hovers, trembling, over the keyboard. There’s only one conceivable reason for her to reach out— Roberto.
I hesitate, tension crackling through my veins, then force my fingers to respond.
Where?
She sends a location, a small bar on the outskirts of town, the type of place where silence is currency and curiosity is unwelcome.
I go armed.
