Page 41 of Asher Black (The Five Syndicates)
Childhood pet? A black Pitbull terrier named Dog.
Beverage of choice? Water or black tea. Nothing else.
It’s very subtle, but I think Asher really likes the color black.
It’s when we delve into the darker aspects of Asher’s life that I realize how honest he’s being. The courage to speak about painful life experiences is foreign to me, so seeing it in Asher is as impressive as it is alarming.
“Where did you learn to fight?” I ask, remembering how he beat Bastian when he was only fifteen.
We’ve slowly steered our way from the questions on the worksheets to unexpectedly easy conversation. I’m genuinely curious about him and his past. This is more than learning about things to use against him.
“My parents didn’t have a lot of money, so I grew up in a pretty shitty area. There were a lot of gangs. I didn’t join one, but I did have to learn to fight and defend myself. I ended up signing up for MMA classes at a local gym.” He laughs, unashamed. “I stole the money for the classes from my mom’s drug fund. I’d mix her drugs with sugar water, so it’d last her longer. Then, I’d steal the money it saved and use it on classes.
“One night, I was finished sparring, and some chick comes up to me. We end up fucking in the locker room. We get caught, and it turns out she’s dating Bastian. A week later, he comes at me with a baseball bat, and I fight back. Beat the shit out of him, too.
“I should have been put down after that, but the capos were impressed. So, Vince took me in. He didn’t have kids of his own, and for some reason, he wanted me. I moved into his house on the Upper East Side, and he enrolled me into a private prep school nearby. After that, I went to Wilton. Vince could’ve paid my tuition, but he already did so much for me, so I didn’t want to ask. I ended up working out a deal with the family, and well, you know the rest.”
As for my part of the getting to know you, I lie about what I have to and tell the truth about what I can. I don’t think Asher is suspicious of me. My foster care upbringing makes it easy to divert attention from my lack of a personal life growing up, and I’m able to parrot the same theme over and over—that my childhood sucked but was typical for a foster kid in a poor area.
Blah, blah, blah.
To be fair, that’s pretty close to the truth. Because that’s my past—a whole lot of blah.
But now? Even though this whole situation is really messed up, it’s still exciting.
I feel like I’m living for the first time, and I have Asher to thank—and blame—for that.
Chapter Thirteen
The courage of life is
often a less dramatic
spectacle than the courage
of a final moment; but it
is no less a magnificent
mixture of triumph and
tragedy.
John F. Kennedy
“What do you want to eat?” Asher asks.
We’re currently taking a break, because my stomach won’t stop growling. The questionnaire took longer than we originally thought it would, so we ended up skipping breakfast. The hunger has been torturous given my love for food. I even listed eating as my biggest hobby. Asher’s is MMA.
I smirk. “You tell me, Lucy Expert.”
I’m becoming way too comfortable around Asher, but I genuinely trust him not to hurt me. I actually like his company. It’s better than what I normally do on a Sunday, which is homework. And if I’m being honest, I can see myself enjoying this whole fake fiancée thing.
This is a nice place to live, I don’t have to pay for food and housing, I’m closer to the heart of campus than I was before, and I can sleep through the night without waking up from Aimee’s snores or the sound of someone drunkenly stumbling through the hall.
Asher playfully shakes his head at me. He seems less annoyed with me now. “Chicken Pad Thai?”
I nod. “If we’re doing Thai, you’ll get the Pad See Ew with Beef and Shrimp.”
