Page 56 of Darling Venom
I confessed I was the one who went to Kellan’s grave and left roses every Valentine’s Day. Tate had always wondered who that person was.
He told me things I hadn’t known, too.
For instance, Kellan used to be a star athlete and pretty popular as a kid, just as I’d suspected. Swim team member and track star. Then his mother died in a very publicized, very embarrassing way.
From that point on, kids taunted him about his screwed-up family. Their parents canceled playdates with him, and with his mom gone, Kellan didn’t have anyone to take him to see friends after school, anyway. His father was stuck in his room writing or partying his life away, and his brother was up at Harvard, studying medicine.
Tate had grown up with a normal mother, who’d been separated from Terry Marchetti since before she gave birth to Tatum. She’d ingrained in her son all the normalcy in the world, but Kellan was born right into the eye of the storm of a troubled model, a tortured artist, and their public love story.
Tate told me Kellan had the same substance abuse issues Terry had. He’d looked up to his father and tried to mimic him in everything. Even his bad habits.
We exchanged notes for God knows how long until, suddenly, when we hit our third drink, we fell silent.
Tate stared at the bar.
I stared at him.
“I have an early morning tomorrow.” He held his credit card between his index and middle finger, handing it to the bartender.
I fiddled with my bag to take out mine, too, but he covered my hand with his. A jolt of electricity made the hairs on my arms stand on end, and I sucked in a breath.
He released me. “Your money’s no good here.”
The bartender returned his card with a receipt, plus a napkin with her phone number on it. I watched carefully as Tate tipped her thirty percent, removed the napkin, and crumpled it in his hand when she turned away.
We poured outside. I wrapped my arms around myself, but not because of the cold.
Tate started flagging down taxis. “I’ll hail you a cab.”
A quick glance at my phone showed me it was already half-past eleven, and twenty-two-year-old me was much more careful about wandering around the streets of New York in the middle of the night than teenage me.
Did we really spend five and a half hours together?
A taxi stuck at a red light blinked at us, signaling its pending approach. We turned to each other at the same time.
“Thanks for doing this.” He squeezed my hand mechanically.
Just like the way he’d plowed into that woman.
He did everything in such an offhand way, I wondered if he was capable of showing any feelings that were not Kellan-related.
“Sure. I’d give you my number in case you want to talk about Kellan some more, but I noticed you’re not big on taking numbers.” I was referring to the barista and the bartender from tonight.
“Sharp.”
I tapped my temple, ignoring the faint sting in my chest. “Weapon of mass destruction.”
“Keep that weapon locked and safe.” He raised his hand, rubbing his thumb over my forehead. Zero emotion in his eyes. “Goodbye, Charlie.”
“Goodbye, Tate.”
The car stopped at the curb. I climbed into it as Tate stuffed money into the driver’s hand, taking the cab company card from him and assuring him he’d call them to make sure I made it home safely.
I produced Kellan’s last penny and rolled it in my fingers as Tate disappeared back into the bar we’d just exited.
Why would he go in?
To seal the deal with the bartender, you fool.
