“Giulio!” Mama interrupts. “Pandora is beingsafe, and that’s all that matters.” I must hang on that for a little too long, because Mama says, “Youarebeing safe, right?”
“Yeah! I mean, what’s your definition of safe?” I say that last bit mostly to rile her up, and I’m not disappointed when Papa bursts out laughing.
“You know perfectly well what I mean,” Mama replies. She sounds exasperated, but that’s nothing new. She should be used to Papa and me ganging up on her by now. Maybe she is, and she’s humoring us by pretending to be offended.
“I do. I’m fine, Mama. You won’t get unwanted bastard children out of me.” I pause before adding, “Only wanted ones.”
Mama lets out a frustrated sound while Papa laughs again.
“Okay, okay. I just wanted to let you all know that things are fine. Classes are good, nobody’s bullying me, and I will not tell you about my sex life,” I say.
“Of course nobody’s bullying you,” Uncle Slayer says. “You’ve still got your knife, right?”
“I never leave home without it,” I confirm. “By the way, Papa, I think I’ve got everything sorted, so you can send the stuff over.”
“The stuff?” Mama asks, and this time she sounds wary. “What stuff are you sending her, Giulio?”
“Nothing dangerous,” Papa answers, and I know that does nothing to reassure Mama.
I chitchat with them for a bit longer, with Daddy staying quiet in the background while everybody else grills me for details.
As the call winds down, Daddy switches the phone back to private.
“I’m glad you’re having a good time,” he says. There’s no real emotion in his voice, but that’s just the way he talks. I know he’s happy to hear from me.
“Yeah. Hey, uh. I ran into Blaze Bouchard,” I say, a lot quieter. I don’t want to risk any of the others overhearing.
“From the Bouchard Syndicate.” Daddy hmms. “We haven’t had dealings with them lately. Your grandfather tried to make a few deals down south, but that never got very far. The Bouchards had a strong network.”
I’m surprised Daddy even mentioned him. Nobody likes to talk about my grandfather. There’s a photo of him gored open, blood allover his white wedding tuxedo, that Papa sometimes hangs from the Christmas tree.
That’s the only version of him I know.
Whoever he was, my parents all hated him.
“Yeah. Well, I just wondered if you could send me more information about them. Don’t tell the others though. I don’t need Papa showing up and blowing up a school building.” I don’t mean that as a joke, either.
There’s a long pause before Daddy says, “Is this related to Rachel?”
“What else would it be related to?” I ask with a spike of annoyance. “Are you going to help me or not?”
There’s a long sigh before Daddy responds, “I will. But be safe. Don’t act like Giulio.”
Now that’s a stupid suggestion.
“I would never,” I say, and of course Daddy doesn’t believe me.
Like father, like daughter, and all that.
“I love you, Pandora,” Daddy finally says. “If you need anything, you can always call us. We’ll drive down there as fast as we can.”
“I can handle myself,” I tell him. “And now I have to go. I’ve got to do more stuff I can scandalize Mama with on the next call.”
I hang up on him and set my phone down with a groan. I love my family, I do, but I knew the moment I mentioned anything related to Rachel, Daddy would get cautious.
They all think I should drop it.
They don’t understand why I’m still on it, months after her body was discovered.
