Page 9 of The Puppet Master
Thumbing the underside of my chin, I sweep my tongue over my bottom lip. “It’s kind of stupid actually, but… Astrobiology and Exoplanetary Studies.”
“Wow.” He raises his brows in mock amazement. “You really took our school’s motto to heart.”
I laugh, thumb slipping from my chin so I can splay my hand. “Yeah, well, I wasn’t born rich, so I had to be interesting.”
He snorts and picks up the drink Sherry sets in front of him. Before she can leave, I slide a credit card her way and hope she doesn’t ask for an ID.
“Could you close my tab, please?”
She swipes up the card. “Of course.”
“Thank you, sweetheart.”
Her smile flickers. If I didn’t have other plans, I’d ask for her number.
“Sometimes interesting can pay off,” I tell the kid. “Have you heard of StellarVista Innovations?”
He shakes his head. “Nope.”
“I’m the founder.”
I lift his jacket off the stool between us and hold it out to him as I move over. He glares but takes it and dumps it on the counter. Negligent, gross, rude.
I slide my drink and book in front of me to make it clear I’m here to stay, then pull up a bogus website that has my photo on the homescreen. Mostly me. My hair—combed back—my smile, green contacts, plastic-rimmed glasses, and a plaid shirt tucked inside slacks. I could beat my own ass.
“Check this out…” I tilt my screen toward him.
He raises his drink, lips pinched in awhoopty-fucking-dokind of way. “Impressive.”
“I’m so sorry, sir…”
I turn to Sherry, who has my card stuck out toward me. Her lips are pouted like she’s genuinely regretful. “Your card was declined.”
My mouth opens, but for a moment, I stay quiet. I let out a nervous laugh and toss the kid an embarrassed glance. “Could you run it again, please?”
She leans in close and lowers her voice. “I’m so sorry. I actually ran it four times.”
I blink as she pulls back, like I’m doing the math. Like I didn’t max out Richard Arnold’s credit card on booze and strippers last night.
I exhale sharply. “That’s not possible.”
“It’s probably just the card. Sometimes our reader doesn’t like American Express.” She shrugs and tries to smile. Poor girl. “Do you have another you’d like to try?”
“Yeah… Yes, of course.” I nod way too many times while pulling my wallet out. I let my thumb slip before I retrieve another maxed out card and hand it over. “This one should work.”
She slowly takes it and walks away, tense with vicarious embarrassment.
“Guess business isn’t going so good after all, huh?” the kid asks. I glance over to see him smirk before popping a piece of ice into his mouth. He chews with his mouth closed, not all etiquette being lost on him.
His life is so crystal clear in my mind that I have to suppress a frown. He’s too young to hate for the crime of being white, rich, and straight, but he’s old enough for the world to root for punishment. And it would be soeasy. Buttons big as stepping stones I could hop across, make him feel small, stuck. Question every aspect of his life, his worth.
But unlike much of the rest of the world, I believe in second chances. Duncan Thomas is desperate for one. He reeks of regret and forgotten dreams. He needs help. He needs guidance.
He’s lucky I’m here.
“Are you kidding me, man?” I huff.
Perfect timing, Sherry comes back with the second failed card. I rake my hand through my hair, fucking up the dorky combover, while Miserable Mike snickers.
