I had been worried that I was going to be bored babysitting the stuffed shirts of the Clave, but now I was worried about catching up.
“I don’t drink. Mixes with my meds,” I explained. Setting down the shot glass on the table, I noticed my hand shaking already. The meds were trying to battle the anxiety firing up, and I didn’t know which one was winning.
Zeus stopped lifting the shot to his lips, giving me a hard stare, trying to figure me out. “I chose you for a reason, Grimm. Savage, unapologetic, fun… unlike your brothers. They all bore me.”
He pushed the shot glass towards me again, and I had no choice. He owned the Clave, and the Clave owned my ass. Drink or perish.
That was exactly why I told Abigail to drop off my card at the club. I could handle them, but her in close proximity? Hard pass. The two men sitting in front of me would stain your soul and piss on your grave.
I was still protecting her with no real idea why.
Lifting my watch, I said into it: Hey Siri, remind me to talk to my therapist about protecting people.
Alba poured the sake into the shot glasses, and both of them started laughing at nothing, or maybe I missed it. They were like teenagers on the loose, instead of what I expected. It could have almost been refreshing, if I weren’t so on edge.
“I got us a table at Sins and Forgiveness. Did you guys eat?”
I could see the laughter evaporate between them, and they both look unamused. Even I knew that social cue. Sake was the only thing we were consuming besides bad behavior.
Healthy diets were for the fucked up of the world.
Standing up and leading the way, I felt Zeus’s heavy hand and rings slap down on my shoulder. “Business first. I have a problem I hear you’re good at fixing, Reaper.”
“I’m listening. Not agreeing… but I’ll hear you out.”
He let go of my shoulder and leaned against the wall, looking at me in the same harsh way, sizing me up, and trying to figure out how I became death instead of conquest, chaos, and famine. “There’s this group we oversee called the Cloth. Well, they’re getting messy and making up their own rules now. They were supposed to find this group for me and now there’s talks of some bodies.”
“And where do I come in? Don’t you have more power than I do?”
“Different talents, my boy. I need you to go check things out up there, and then we will see if your talents can fix things for me.” His fingers grazed his bottom lip as he spoke, and his head dipped just enough to make me think I could react freely, when I knew I couldn’t.
Drink or perish.
Kill or perish.
Bring about death like you chose to or perish.
And by “perish” I meant die in a way that looked accidental, but wasn’t. It would be like I never existed.
Nothing in my life was a choice when I was for hire, and the Clave owned my virgin ass.
“I have a feeling I’ll barely remember this conversation. Just text me what you need tomorrow.” I didn’t wait for an agreement when I followed Alba down the stairs. I wanted to avoid all talks of killing and what I do for the Clave as much as possible, at least until the Xan and sake mix had worn off.
Pulling out my phone, I shot Abigail a text that only read: Heading to S&F now.
Downstairs, their car pulled up before they even made it to the valet stand. Owning the Clave, or any secret society really, probably gave you the kind of clout that allowed you to twirl your fingers in dead air and someone knew exactly what that meant.
Stop talking.
The check.
Bring my car around.
I was downright envying this man’s skills to live amongst everyone and yet have minimal human contact.
That’s what I was striving for, but I was sandwiched in between Jason and the monster, leaving three of us competing for daylight.
“I’ll meet you guys there,” I tossed their way as Alba opened the car door for Zeus to climb in the back.
So there was dynamics. There always was.
Waiting by the valet stand, I handed the kid my ticket, and an enthused look came to the surface, realizing my car was the McLaren. “Can’t forget a car like that!”
I smiled, even though I didn’t want to. It was the thought that counted, right?
LA wasn’t so bad. People liked to complain for the sake of complaining. Transplants like Abigail weren’t supposed to love it, but she liked it enough to move here.
With a grin still attached to his thin lips, the kid stood next to the door, waiting for me to slip inside as I stepped off the sidewalk. I slipped him whatever cash I had in my wallet. My card was being held hostage by my assistant, my lifeline along with my last name. Money and power were the two things saving my ass these days.
Sins and Forgiveness was still opened to the public. The elite could rub elbows all they wanted, but the sinning was never solo. They needed the mundane, the working class, to be their puppets.
The club had two entrances, one on either side, like segregation. Sins was the entrance for the elite, while Forgiveness was how the public entered.
Parking in the back, my car was cloaked in darkness, with the only light coming from above the exit door of the club. I sat in my car for a few moments, questioning how exactly I made it there in one piece.
The alcohol was definitely fighting the Xanax in my system and creating fireworks. Combustible wasn’t even a good enough word for this, when it was so much worse.
Walking around the building that looked nondescript, I saw their Mercedes SUV sticking out like a sore thumb. Half of me wasn’t surprised, but the other half was hoping they’d get lost on the way here from Chow.
Regretting the Xan now, I let my knuckles knock against the window, and I headed towards the wall to pull out a smoke. I didn’t normally smoke either, but desperate times called for desperate fucking ways to deal with the stress.
Oleg, the owner of S&F, was a long-time enemy turned friend after he stopped his hobbies in trafficking people. He was a long-time Clave supporter, with or without the bad habits.
He was a mutt—mom was Russian and dad was a Kiwi. Not enough pedigree to get you a seat at Clave meetings, but enough to be in the inner circle.
I wasn’t surprised when the hostess’s hand landed on my forearm as I walked in. If we were being honest, I had probably fucked all the women here. They were safe bets with safe-word experience.
“Grimm, long time no see. Up in VIP?”
I knew smirking her direction was considered toying with her. She could take it. “Show us to my regular table?”
I spoke with my eyes as she looked behind me climbing the small set of three stairs up to the platform. She seemingly understood when she looked around me at my guests.
Everything was equal here, VIP or not. No upstairs. That was Oleg’s office, and only he saw it all.
There was still tons of privacy, with rooms branching off everywhere like a maze. A lot of sin… the forgiveness was for you to figure out Sunday.
We settled into the booth, and got the drinks flowing. The gangster version of Zeus and his creepy sidekick laughed at nothing again.
Looking at my phone for a warning text from Abigail, I grew more callous with every minute she disregarded me. Maybe the forced drinks on top and meds were to blame. I was feeling shit I was used to numbing. I was feeling shit I didn’t know what to do with. I wasn’t an ironic mess, but all my calculated neuroticism was all skewed.