Page 111 of Hushed

“Baby boy, it’s not supposed to be like anything. I don’t look up to you. I look at you,” he says. “That’s different.” He cuddles me and then chuckles. “And for what it’s worth, I was trailer park trash for a long time. My worst fear was that you’d find out and not want me. So, I’m delighted, in a weird way, that we get to share this experience. We get to be trailer park trash together.”

“Gentlemen!” Pamela calls. She comes into the bedroom and starts upon seeing us spooning on the floor. “Oh!” She laughs. “Goodness, I remember those first few weeks of being married. Ghost said it was just last week, right? The walls are thick enough that with the windows closed you should have some privacy, if you’re worried about it.”

I try to say something but I’m too embarrassed to start.

“Darling?” Levi asks. “What do you think?”

I think it’s a fucking nightmare. “It’s perfect,” I make myself say.

Levi smiles at me and looks up at Pamela. “We’ll take it.”

Chapter thirty-eight

Levi

The new lawyer has an office on Roosevelt, across the street from a movie palace that’s seen better days. I’ve arrived fifteen minutes early. Bastien has not, because nobody told him that arriving on time means you’re arriving late, which is one of those little civilian habits of his that stresses me the fuck out. I sit where I have good sightlines to the front door while the secretary, who looks like a bit of a dragon, studiously ignores me. This is the one that Ghost recommended warmly enough that I took him at his word.

The door opens at ten to eleven, and Bastien comes through. I relax the instant I see his face. He sees me and freezes for a second before going to the secretary and murmuring his name. She nods at him once and then gestures to the empty waiting area.

“I thought you were in class at this hour,” he says.

“I skipped.” I pat the seat next to me. “You’re late,” I whisper.

“I’m ten minutes early,” he returns in an undertone.

I put my arm around him. The secretary’s typing pauses. “Exactly. I was worried you were going to miss the appointment.”

He looks suitably insulted by the insinuation. “With my own lawyer? Why are you here?”

“I’m not letting you go into this meeting without me.”

“I’ve done my whole life without you.”

“I know. It’s still giving me nightmares.”

He nudges me. “Excuse you. I did a good job, for the most part.”

“You did a great job. But I need you and I know you don’t need me for anything, and if I don’t keep showing up, you’re going to figure that out again.”

He shakes his head. “This is what keeps you up at night?”

I give him a look that I hope communicates what a stupid question I think this is. “Yeah! That and the trash island in the middle of the Pacific.”

“Fair enough. We really need to work on your self-esteem. How did you find this guy? The last thing I heard was ‘I’ll take care of it.’”

“‘Baby boy,’” I say. “I said, ‘I’ll take care of it, baby boy.’”

He reddens and glances at the secretary, who has paused her typing long enough to develop a thousand-yard stare at the front door. She resumes typing. Bastien looks suspiciously at me. “What criteria did you use, exactly?”

“He was an MP,” I say. It’s my trump card, and I can’t hide how pleased I am. I think that would go over a little better than admitting that mostly I was going based on Ghost Van Hoek’s recommendation.

Bastien’s jaw drops. He stares at me in consternation. “Oh, câlisse.” He glances at the closed door to the lawyer’s office. “Where the hell did you get me an MP? What on earth good would that do here and now?”

I am just about to answer when the office door opens. “Bastien?” the lawyer asks. He smiles at me. “And you must be Levi. Thank you for your detailed emails.”

I stand. He’s taller than I am, with strawberry blond hair that is slightly unruly and brown eyes. “Patrick Rudisill.” He shakes both our hands and ushers us through the door. Bastien looks like he’s only barely able to swallow his discontent.

His office is absolutely spartan. I watch as Bastien scans for something, doesn’t find it, and scans again. “What are you looking for?” I whisper.