Page 51 of Guardian
They’ve all had too much to drink.Something tells me they’re no better sober.What they are to me at the moment is useful cover.With all their yapping and their high fives, they’ve practically created a repellent forcefield around themselves such that even their waiter doesn’t want to look this way.They’re not even tipping well.
Right now, I’m all but invisible.
Across the hotel pool, Ravi sits on the edge drinking some kind of cola.His so-called friends appear to have invited themselves over for the fifth afternoon in a row to take advantage of the hotel amenities.Or to take advantage of Ravi.Haven’t yet decided how parasitic they all are.
Not that I can judge too much.When I agreed with Zed that a few days off from work would do me good, following my former ward around certainly wasn’t what he had in mind.
At the moment, two of Ravi’s buddies are at risk of getting their fingers cut off.The long-haired one, Adam Luchera, crouches down beside Ravi, chattering into his ear while munching a slice of pizza.My background check turned up a possible tie to the Luchera crime family out of South Florida, so I don’t know what the fuck he’s doing here in Belle Argo, go-go dancing for chump change.
The other, Troy Ackerman, whose short hair is wet and spiked from swimming, is treading water while he grabs onto one of Ravi’s legs for support.The little shit is one knee touch away from finding himself at the bottom of the pool, disemboweled by the drain.
My info says Adam and Troy live together, and that Adam has a girlfriend who works at a fancy stationery store downtown, but for all that, the two behave like they’re fucking and they want Ravi to be the filling in their sandwich.They’re a couple of filthy mongrels, all but humping his leg.
And what is Ravi’s piece of shit “bodyguard” doing about any of it?Jack fucking shit.He’s obviously there more to make sure Ravi makes it to the ball on time.If it were me.I’d have cracked at least a kneecap by now.
“I don’t see why that’s a big deal,” one of the privileged pieces of trash in front of me says before signaling his already harassed waiter for more drinks.
At the nearby water slides, a tall white guy holds a little girl with light brown skin in his lap while going down a twisty one.Dean Ness and his daughter, Ella.Mother deceased, according to my records.Childbirth complications.Dean played basketball for a D1 school in Georgia before moving to Belle Argo to become a sex worker of all fucking things.At the bottom of the slide is Michael Greene, the little girl’s uncle.Records indicate that the two live in the same building, one floor apart.Dean’s obvious devotion to his daughter is almost enough for me to forgive the way he tried to devour Ravi’s face at Mercer Oak’s party.
Almost.
“Man, those bitches were easy.Ripe for the picking.All it takes is a little something extra in their drink…”
Without taking my eyes off Ravi, who’s got his head tipped back, talking to Sebastian Pierce of all fucking people, I pull my phone from my pocket and snap a quick picture of the table in front of me.Then I shoot it off to Bev with instructions to look into these assholes.I also sink back in my seat a little.Sebastian and his boyfriend are both here, and if they see me, I’m burned.
And then what?Pretend I simply happened to be in the neighborhood?That won’t work.
“Tell you what, though, that last party at his place before the bank foreclosed?Off the fucking chain, man.Literally chains.Like a human buffet,” one of the dudes says.
“Shut the fuck up,” one of them hisses.
Paul Jeffries, a redheaded punk with a sketchy juvenile paper trail, is at a table a few feet over from Ravi, eating pizza with his much older college teacher boyfriend.Interestingly, one of the hotel managers is the brother of Mr.Jeffries’s too-old boyfriend.The man in question, Westlake Monroe, hustles out from a door behind the pool bar, speaking quickly into a walkie-talkie.He gives a pointed scowl to Mr.Jeffries, a halfhearted wave to his brother, and then proceeds to transform into a polite hotel employee while addressing first Ravi and then his guard.
A chameleon.The worst kind of human, if you ask me.I’d rather deal with a straight-up psychopath who makes no bones about who and what they are than a slimy-ass weasel who changes allegiances as quickly as blinking.
“Heyo, Brunch Daddy!Come get in the water with us.It feels so gooood in here.”Adam and Troy, the two punks all but hanging off Ravi, are calling out to the manager, who seems to be ignoring them.Pointedly.
After getting no love from the hotel manager, they turn their attention back to Ravi.“Hey, Rav, look over there!”Troy points over Ravi’s shoulder.
The second Ravi turns to look, both Adam and Troy work in tandem, Adam hooking his hands under Ravi’s arms and Troy pulling his legs, dunking him into the pool with a splash.I push to my feet, and so does Ravi’s guard.A few seconds later I relax some when he reappears above the surface of the water, sputtering and laughing.
Laughing.That’s twice now I’ve seen him laugh in the last couple of weeks.When did I last hear him laugh?HaveIever made him laugh?I don’t think so.
Blood thunders in my ears as I observe the carefree way he’s interacting with his friends, splashing everyone around him in retaliation.Has he ever been so carefree in my presence?Probably not, given I can’t think of a time when I was that carefree either.
For one second Channing’s gaze swings to me.He doesn’t seem surprised to see me, which is oddly reassuring.Maybe the guy isn’t completely useless after all.A knowing smile crosses his face before he returns to his seat by the bar, scanning the area in Ravi’s immediate vicinity.
“…and let me tell you, that motherfucker’s going down hard.It should be statistically impossible to make that many bad investments in a row but somehow he managed…”
Westlake, the hotel manager, comes hustling in my general direction, past the table of bros, clearly worked up about something.
He’s barking into his radio.“Are you sure nobody’s seen her?A person doesn’t disappear into thin air in the middle of their shift like that.Are you sure she’s not just having a cigarette by the staff entrance or some?—”
“Hey, hotel dude.Come over and give us some service, baby,” one of the bros calls out to Westlake.
If you ask me, the man’s not conventionally attractive.Chin and cheekbones a little too sharp, eyes a little too deep.But he’s well-built, with tousled hair, and those eyes appear to be cool blue and fringed by long lashes.I suppose I can see the draw.
My gaze swings back to Ravi.I like brown eyes better.
