Chapter 11 Hollow-Eyed
“Fuck you.”
Animkii laughed, the sound disrupted the dream.
“So you’re as pleasant asleep as you are awake, hm?”
The tang of lemon and the earthy scent of sumac pulled him closer and closer to waking. Potato and garlic followed the yeasty scent of fresh pita.
The sun was lower in the sky. It was nearing the evening he guessed.
Animkii sat at the small table near the terrace, clean, half-naked in just his sweatpants. His hair was wrapped up in a tall wrap and probably coated with some sort of scented goo.
He groaned, rubbing his eyes, and sat up. “How long have I been out?”
“Probably not long enough.” Animkii’s fingers flew across the keyboard of his laptop as he checked paperwork. “Feel better?”
Dorian hummed and looked over at the frosted glass of water and pitcher on the coffee table. His phone was there, too, and plugged up.
“Thanks,” Dorian said and drained the glass. He poured another. “Mace up yet?”
“Pending.” Animkii flipped a page. “Think you’ll be up for an excursion out?”
“Where?”
Dorian picked up his phone and checked his messages. The first was from Becca, who reported that the maid was still there and he’d probably want to request another one. Dorian was going to ask what exactly that meant, considering, but then Animkii was speaking again.
“Out… if Mason is agreeable.”
Dorian nodded, agreeing with the unspoken statement that leaving Mason alone wasn’t an option currently.
“I’m game. If there’s more alcohol involved.”
Animkii snorted. “Your poor liver.”
A door opened upstairs, a low groan and footsteps followed.
“Fuck, Ani’, what’d you put in my drink?”
“Sugar, spice, and everything nice.”
Mason snorted as he reached the bottom stair, scratching his stomach. Dorian stared and his insides twisted and clenched. Disturbing. Unsettling. Worrying. Mason’s eyes were so flat, his expression, too. Hollow-eyed, like nothing was in there, but still pushing through the way he always did.
Mason Argyros was the golden boy of the Centurions. People called him Apollo after an ad for running shoes his rookie year had painted him in gold and put a wreath of golden leaves in his ridiculous curls.
Mason’s father was his manager and agent for all intents and purposes, and from what he understood, they had a decent relationship, but the Society had jerked Mason’s life back and forth for years before he’d gone pro. Unlike Dorian, he’s been groomed from a young age to play for the Centurions.
He and Mason weren’t as close as Mason and Animkii were, but Animkii and Dorian had grown close since their rookie year, not just because they were Mason’s wingers, but because they were far more similar in terms of personality. Mason didn’t go out to a party, at least he hadn’t before.
He had been oddly honorable for a teenager, more honorable as a twenty-something pseudo-celebrity.
He’d more than earned the Golden Boy title, the poor fuck, but Dorian figured it wouldn’t last forever.
Mason was high up in the hierarchy, but even the best of men had stories about exes who had betrayed and lied to them. Throw in the Society’s penchant for ruining everything good, especially if it suited their purposes, and Dorian couldn’t even fake being surprised that it had all crashed like this.
Animkii left his files open as Isla came out of the kitchen with a pitcher. Animkii slid around her and came back with a large platter of food. The tang of lemon and garlic grew stronger. His stomach grumbled, and Mason shifted, his expression melted into something caught between a frown and a pout.
“It looks great, Isla… Thank you.”
“Of course. Ani’ was very clear about the menu.”
He scowled at Animkii. “I don’t need to be bribed into eating.”
Dorian grimaced. They all knew that was a lie. There was a reason Dorian also had a list of every Mediterranean restaurant in every city they played in. Animkii steered him to the table and didn’t comment. Mason didn’t resist.
“I need to check on my new investment.”
Mason groaned and pulled a plate toward him. “If we’re drinking more, I need food.”
“We’ll get you wine, golden boy,” Dorian grinned, snagging a plate. “Leave the revelry to the professionals.”
Mason piled a heap of meat onto a loaf of pita. “Will do.”
Lydia left the library with an armful of books. After she’d finished setting up her student worker schedule, she’d spent the rest of the day in the library, working through her social media, posting new content, and drumming up ideas for her next week’s posts.
It had been productive and relaxing enough that the thought of her next shift at the Blue Kudu Bar wasn’t the worst thing that could happen. The TA position paid more than the maid position and came with more benefits.
She could probably afford to cut back on her hours at the Bar at least until the start of the semester, then she’d be down to less than half time anyway. She grinned, thinking about the look on her manager’s face when she told him kindly that she was lessening her hours, and he’d just have to deal with it since she was a university student and the Bar had Aegis affiliations.
She bet he’d think about hiring with his head and not his dick when he was more short-staffed. She stepped onto the shuttle that would take her to the main entrance to campus as her phone chimed. She answered, plugging in headphones and grinned.
“Hi, grandpa!”
He beamed, bundled up in his sweater and seated at what looked like a dining table. It was after ten or so in Chicago now. He was probably winding down for bed. The years since he was a young man had carved laugh lines around his eyes and mouth. He looked healthy today, just as healthy as he’d been when she’d returned to the island.
“Hi, baby girl, how are you?” His dark eyes gleamed with joy. “You look happy today.”
Lydia scoffed and told him about her rough start, including getting fired.
He tutted. “Well, you were looking for a job when you found that one. I’m sure you’ll find another one.”
“I already have!” Lydia squealed. She thanked the driver and hopped off the shuttle, heading to the main street. “I start the day after tomorrow.”
“Look at you!” He looked away and called out. “Your daughter lost a job and picked up a new one on the same day.”
“That’s that Baker luck. The universe knows we don’t do unemployment!” Her mom called back, her voice full of laughter.
“You headed home?” her grandpa asked. “It’s still a decent hour there, isn’t it?”
“I am. I’m working tonight, but I think I’ll get off before one.”
“Just be careful, honey,” her mom said, leaning into the frame. She looked as tired as she always did after a long day. “I’d feel better if you had a friend with a car.”
She would, too, but her schedule didn’t allow her much time to make friends with other students.
She suspected that Aegis kept it that way for a reason.