Page 98 of Flock
“I have a temper.”
“Noooo, not you.”
“Yeah, well, that motherfucker almost killed Sean.”
“Then I’m glad you broke his jaw.”
A tense silence follows and suddenly I feel awkward.
“Just wanted to check on you.”
I move to get up so he can eat his breakfast, but he stills me, maneuvering me across his lap before picking up his fork and digging in. His clean scent invades me as I sit locked in his arms.
I glance around his room in the full light of day. Eyeing the private library over his shoulder that takes up one entire wall. “So, I’m guessing reading is a hobby?”
“You could say that.”
“One of mine too.” I shake my head. “Gotta say, you fellas surprise me at every turn.”
“Why, because we aren’t illiterates with mile-long rap sheets?”
“Your presentation is deceiving and ... effective.”
Assumptions from unsuspecting others like me keep them hiding in plain sight. At the most, they come across as twenty-something delinquents, but that’s not the whole truth. People believe what they want to. The boys don’t fight or negate their reputations because it keeps them in the dark. And the dark is their playground.
“I can’t imagine you on a college campus. Did you like living in Boston?”
“It was all right.” He dips his toast in the yolk and pops it into his mouth.
I glance over my shoulder as he makes quick work of inhaling his eggs.
“Good?”
He nods. “Thank you.”
“Welcome.” I glance toward his screen. “What are you doing?”
“Eating breakfast.”
“God,” I roll my eyes. “I’ll never get a straight answer.”
“Get used to it.” He pushes his empty plate to the side and moves his mouse. The monitor comes to life and lines of code pop up.
“Jesus, it looks like the Matrix. What is this?”
“I don’t know, you haven’t chosen what color pill yet.” He continues to eye the screen. The whole of it is dark, mostly. No browser links, nothing. Just numbers popping up—algorithms, and he seems to be reading them with ease.
“It’s a back door,” he says, moving his mouse.
“A back door?”
“To where I want to be.”
“Is this the dark web?”
One side of his mouth lifts, indicating just how clueless I am. “It’s my web.”
“You’re the spider?”
