#and yes they did steal the keyboard from neil

[1-nexomon-a-day]

4/13/24 - Rubby

[yikesharringrove]

Show Pony

Chapter 2: Legends Never Die

Read on Ao3

-

Billy was watching porn when Steve texted.

He’s never clicked out of a video so fucking fast in his life.

The message just read hey, this is steve :) which like, of course, the fucker uses little emoticons. Of course , he types out little smiley faces. It’s so dumb. It’s so cute.

And Billy just stared at it. One hand still on his dick, the other hovering over the keyboard.

What the fuck does he reply?

Obviously, Steve knows it’s Billy. Like. Duh.

So he just tapped out a little Hey.

Steve texted back almost immediately.

you have a good day? Billy found himself grinning maniacally, so he rolled over to hold his pillow close to his chest, burying his chin into it. He didn’t wanna deal with the fact that this stupid adorable cowboy was making him smile and flush. Stupid.

Yeah, it was nice. Way too hot, but nice.

lol try wearing jeans in that heat. sweatin through my damn saddle. Billy laughed into his pillow.

Jesus, you’re such a fuckin hick. Billy bit his tongue when he pressed send.

And Steve just sent back >:(. And God. He’s so cute. Billy. Hates him.

And then Billy’s phone buzzed twice, another brand new text from Steve.

One that made Billy’s heart fucking stop.

i have the day off tomorrow. no tiedown on the schedule. you should come by and we could hang

Which sounded like. A date. It sounded like a fucking date. And Billy wanted to ask. If Steve’s invitation was for a goddamn date.

But like, he can’t just ask. Can he? Is that weird? Okay, maybe he’ll just-

Should I bring Max?

Right? Like if Steve says to bring his little sister, then there’s no way it’s a date. Because, who would want their date to bring their little sister? People who are just hanging out as friends, that’s who.

was hoping it'd just be you and me

And hoo boy. Hoo boy. That’s. That’s a fucking. That’s a date.

Then yeah. Just you and me.

And Steve sent him another little :) because the fucker loves his emoticon smiley faces. They’re not even, like, actual emojis. Steve doesn’t take the time to use fucking apostrophes, but he does type out little faces.

And maybe Billy’s spending too much time thinking about the smiley little shits.

But, like. It’s just. It’s Steve. And it’s a cute fucking thing that Steve does.

Billy’s pretty much obsessed with him by now.

And maybe Billy should ask for, like, a time to meet. But he was halfway through a video and his cock’s still hard and kinda starting to ache, pressed against the mattress where it was. He rolled over, slid his hand back into his shorts, and wrapped his fingers around the base of himself.

So it’s easy just to, slide it up. Run his fingers along his length. Pretend his rough hand is Steve’s rough hand. Pretend the tight vice grip is Steve’s mouth. Hot and slick around him.

He could picture Steve, on his knees in the dirt, those tight fucking jeans beginning to stain at the knees, those big pretty eyes looking at him so reverently, so softly.

And he came all over his hand, pictured those pink pretty lips covered with cum. Imagined scooping it on his fingers, pressing them into Steve’s mouth, making him lick them clean.

It wasn’t even the most depraved fantasy Billy’s ever had. But it was for sure in his top five best orgasms. No doubt about it.

He wiped his hand on the sheets, turning onto his side, staring at the short little conversation with Steve.

Thinking about their fucking date tomorrow.

Max was on his ass the second he woke up.

She cornered him as he was coming out of the bathroom, making him startle and nearly smack her.

“The fuck you doing out here, Shitbrid?”

“What are we doing today?”

“ We aren’t doing shit all. I will be heading out. Soon.”

She narrowed her eyes at him, jutting her jaw in a way he absolutely knows she learned from him.

“Are you going to the rodeo?” she hissed through her teeth at him. “Are you going to see-”

“That’s none ‘a your fuckin’ business.” He pushed past her, lumbering down the hall, almost making it into his bedroom before she slipped inside with him, slapping his elbow and kicking the door closed.

“Are you going on a date ?”

Billy glared at her. He clenched his jaw, speaking through gritted teeth.

“Pretty sure we agreed not to fucking talk about this shit here.”

She pursed her lips, shifting her jaw.

“Just nod or shake your head.”

Billy kept his head very still.

She kicked him once in the shin before stomping out of his room, nearly slamming the door, catching it at the last minute, and closing it quietly.

Neil didn’t approve of doors slamming in his house.

It was rule number. Three probably. First rule was don’t be a smartass. Second rule was don’t be Billy. That was kind of an unspoken rule. But it was there.

And Billy was faced with his newest dilemma.

What does he wear?

Because it’s gonna be another hot fucking day, and his typical date outfits have more, more.

He’s got one clean pair of cut-offs left. Okay. Yes. And he puts on a printed button-up shirt. Leaves it almost all the way unbuttoned, because, like, of course, he does. He’s got a good body. He wants Steve to see it.

He’ll be mostly cool, and he looks better than he did last time he saw Steve.

Black Converse complete the look, and he maybe spends more time than he usually would putting his hair into a ponytail, using one of Max’s bright scrunchies.

She’ll get pissed if she notices it but. Whatever. He steals them from her all the fucking time.

He hasn’t looked at his phone all morning, figured he could head over to the rodeo, and whenever Steve texted, he’d play it cool and act like he wasn’t already there.

But, cowboy hick Steve was obviously an early riser. As the most recent text Billy has is from that cowboy hick Steve. At six. In the morning.

you wanna meet up around ten?

It was currently just past nine.

Does Billy head up there now and wander around the grounds for a bit?

Yes. Yes, he does. Because frankly, he looks gay as fuck in this outfit and he should probably dip before his dad sees.

He sends Steve a thumbs up and the three dots show up almost immediately, showing Steve typing.

you got a car right? can you pick me up outside of the parking lot? i gotta get outta here

And Fuck. Billy knows that feeling.

No problem. You wanna get breakfast? I know a good diner if you’re into that kinda thing.

hell yeah im into that :)

Ah, yes. There was that little happy face just in time to give Billy lots of nice heart palpitations.

Great. That’s what he needs. To get sappy and gross over Steve’s emoticons. Again.

He slipped out of his house without interference, taking a lap around the block just to kill time before setting off to the fairgrounds.

He was trying to make his car look presentable, shoving the few gum wrappers Max left by the gear shift into his pocket, brushing off any stray cigarette ash with one of the baby wipes in the glove box.

And by the time he reached the fairgrounds, he saw Steve skulking along the front of the parking lot, hopping over cracks in the sidewalk like the cutest little bunny.

It was the most adorable thing in the fucking world.

Billy pulled up next to him, blaring the horn and watching Steve startle at the sound.

He was wearing cut-off denim shorts like Billy’s, and a goddamn crop top. It had the silhouette of a horse on its hind legs, its mane flowing in the wind behind it, and Harrington American Rodeo brandished across his chest. It was cut just at his waistline, where his body nipped in right above his hips.

Steve smiled his pretty smile at Billy, just about skipping around the front of the car to slide into the passenger seat.

And Billy tried not to think about how fucking good Steve looked in the passenger seat of his car, those long fucking legs all on display, his thighs, thick and pale, covered in dark hair.

“Hi,” Steve was leaning with one elbow on the center console, putting himself in Billy’s space, and Billy was thankful for his dark aviator sunglasses, as his eyes went wide and probably panicked with Steve moving in so close.

Because if Steve was leaning in to kiss him, that kinda feels like a lot. And Billy’s not a prude, not by any means but he's, he’s got lines, and rules, and-

Steve just knocked his head into Billy’s shoulder, leaning back to buckle his seatbelt, like headbutting Billy’s shoulder was casual and normal.

And fuck.

Billy’s in so deep for this guy he barely fucking knows.

All he could do was push the car forward, and will away the flush on his cheeks. And pretend like he hadn’t jerked off to the person sitting next to him less than twelve hours ago.

“So. Billy. Tell me about yourself.” Steve shifted in his seat, turning to look right at Billy. “All I know is that you’ve got a kid sister, a cool car, and that you’re really hot.”

Billy smirked, turning to look at Steve over his glasses, found Steve biting his bottom lip demurely.

“Well, there’s not much else to know .”

“Oh, come on. Where are you from? How old are you? Shit, probably shoulda asked that sooner. Please, tell me you’re not fifteen or something.”

“I’m literally driving, right now. And relax, Pretty Boy. I’m eighteen next month.”

“Okay. Okay, good. I’m eighteen, by the way. Just so you know, that I’m not fifteen.” Billy shook his head, rolling his eyes with a smile. “But I still want answers to the other questions.”

“Well, I’m from here. Born and raised in San Diego. Uh, I graduated high school in May. And I work at the diner I’m about to take you to, which might be the lamest shit in the world, but they have good pancakes.”

“I like pancakes.” Steve was fiddling with some of the knobs in the car, turning the air conditioner up and down. Billy was just resisting slapping his hand away.

And then he reached for the volume knob on the radio, turning up the Ratt Billy had playing, and audibly scoffed.

“God, I should’ve known you liked this .”

“Yeah? What about it?”

“Just, you know. Sex charged drug-fueled hair metal.”

“Oh my God. What in the fuck ?” He gave Steve as incredulous a look as he could muster. “Are you a housewife from the fifties?”

Steve gave one of his excellent bright laughs at Billy, and Billy’s gut got a little bit gay and a little bit fluttery.

“Alright, Stevie. I’ll bite. What kinda music are you into? And if you say country I’m blowing my fuckin’ brains out.”

“Well, unfortunate then because, yeah. Fuckin’ country, man. Although, I prefer folk.”

“See, you call my music sex-charged and drug-fueled, at least I’m not listening to posers rant about their tractors.”

“Oh, no. I hate that shit as much as you do. I mean like, Johnny Cash. Willie Nelson, you know? Emmylou Harris, Marty Robbins, Miss Dolly. The good stuff. There’s like, a few modern artists that are doing the same kinda thing that I like. It’s all just stories and good music.”

“That’s all my music is. Stories set to music. And, you say my shit is drug-fueled, you do know that Willie Nelson is famous for being a stoner? And that Johnny Cash publicly dealt with addiction and all that?”

“Well, yeah, but they’ve got class.”

“Okay, Cowboy. I’ll let you die on that fuckin’ hill while I party it up on mine to some eighties metal.”

And Steve reached out to shove Billy lightly, laughing while he did it.

“Agree to fucking disagree then. Just take me to pancakes and don’t try to reason with me about shitty music.”

“Then change the subject. Tell me other things about you besides your terrible music taste.”

Steve leaned back in his seat, blowing out a puff of air.

“Uh, I mean. Jeez. I don’t do much besides the rodeo, you know? Just movin’ all over the country.”

“That must be. Exhausting.”

Steve reached out to brush his fingers against the dashboard mindlessly.

“It’s not so bad. I try to make friends in the towns, you know? Makes it kinda fun.”

“Where were you born?”

“Indiana. Really small town. My mom and I stayed there for three years while my father traveled around. I’ve been on the road since.”

“Holy shit. Since you were three? Did you, like, go to school?”

“No. Uh, I actually have a tutor that’s on the road with us, and I’m. You know. Supposed to get my high school diploma soon. I’m behind schedule since,” he waved his hand flippantly. He was staring at his lap, playing with the frayed hem of his shorts. And Billy was grasping for another subject as Steve’s cheeks went red. Because obviously school, had struck a nerve.

“What kinda horse is June?”

“She’s an American quarter horse. That’s the usual type for most rodeo events. They’re good ranch horses because they’re a little more compact. I’ve been with June for five years now, and she’s a beast. I’ve got two others with me, on rotation so that none of them get too tired doing the shows over and over. June, Patsy, and Loretta. They’re all quarter horses, and each one is only about fourteen and a half hands tall. I like my horses a bit smaller for tie-down.”

“I understood, honestly, like, nothing of what you just said.”

Steve tossed his head back, laughing loudly over the radio at Billy’s confusion.

He laughed a lot.

Billy liked it.

“Don’t worry, I’ll teach you rodeo slang. You’ll be a natural,” Steve said, reaching out to where Billy’s right hand was resting on the gearshift, wrapping his finger’s around Billy’s wrist.

“What about their names?”

“All ladies of country. Loretta Lynn, Patsy Cline, and June Carter. Carter-Cash, I guess. She married Johnny but had a career in her own right.”

“Jesus, you’re a fuckin’ hick.”

“You’ve said that before. Just because I’m in the rodeo-”

“No, it’s because you’re in the rodeo, and listen to country music, and wear fucking cowboy boots -”

“They are literally made for riding horses, okay? That’s why they were invented .”

Billy rolled his eyes again, but he was smiling brightly as he pulled into the diner parking lot.

It wasn’t too busy for a Sunday morning. Billy bets it’ll pick up in an hour or so for the brunch crowd.

He began working at the diner three years ago, bussing tables and washing dishes, getting paid under the table because technically, he was too young to work. He was a server now, usually taking the evening dinner shifts to miss that time when his dad was home from work.

The bell jingled above their heads as Billy held the door open for Steve, and Billy stuck his tongue out at the kitchen staff, leaning over the counter to swipe a few menus from the stack.

He led Steve to a booth in the back corner, waving at Lorraine, the older woman who was working their section, gesturing to the booth for Steve to take a seat.

“Wow. You’ve totally got this place on lock.”

Billy grinned at him, leaning against the wall to stretch his legs up on the booth next to him.

“I’ve worked here a few years. Kinda done all the staff positions. It’s a nice place.”

“Well, then what do you recommend?” Steve carefully opened the laminated menu, his big eyes flicking over the pictures on the side of every dish.

“Pancakes are good, so are the waffles though, if you’re into that. I like the full breakfast. Eggs, bacon or sausage, hash browns, pancakes, or toast. Kinda the best of everything.”

Steve snapped his menu shut, smiling softly at Billy.

“I’m trusting you with my breakfast here. It better be good .”

Lorraine approached their table, already pouring Billy a cup of coffee and sliding it to him along the table.

“You really love us that much you find your way in here on your day off?”

“Only you, Lorraine. Everybody else can fuck off for all I care.”

She shook her head, rolling her eyes at Billy.

“You want the usual cook-up?”

“Yes, please.”

She took his unopened menu, turning and smiling brightly at Steve.

“What can I get for you, Darling.”

Steve’s eyes were wide when he looked up at her, his cheeks starting to flush.

“Uh, just, the same as Billy, please.”

“You want a coffee?”

“No, Ma’am. Just a water for me please.” He handed his menu back, giving her a bright smile, his cheeks a soft rosy red.

Lorraine winked at Billy, nodding her head once in Steve’s general direction. Billy waved her off before she could say something embarrassing.

“Sorry, I get kinda weird sometimes.” Steve had pulled a napkin out of the dispenser on their table and was looking down at it, tearing off little chunks and rolling them into balls.

“That’s okay. Lorraine gets it. Plus, you were polite, and that’s all that matters. I wouldn’t be caught dead with you if you were an ass to servers.”

“Oh, God. My dad is such an ass when it comes to, really any staff. Like, servers, or, frankly, most of the people that work for him. Don’t even get me started on the animal carers. I mean, that’s probably the most important job at the whole rodeo, and he’s been trying to dock pay left, right, and fucking center.” Steve rolled his big eyes, huffing like Max.

“Wait, so your dad is like, the head of the whole operation?”

“My name is Steve Harrington,” and Steve pointed at his shirt, the name Harrington emblazoned over the horse.

“Oh damn. I thought that name was familiar when I saw the shirt. Figured I had just seen the rodeo name or something.”

“Nope. That’s me. A whole Harrington. My great-grandpa started the rodeo. He was, like, an actual ranch hand. Started one in the town we’re from. My grandpa was the one who got the idea to take it on the road. My dad came up through it like I did. He was in steer roping. And basically, his end goal is that I start running the whole show in a few years. Take over for him.”

“And, you don’t want to?”

“Nah. I don’t really have a brain for business. Don’t have a brain for much other than riding and tie-down, honestly. Don’t know the first thing about how to run a traveling rodeo.”

“Yeah, me neither.”

Steve smiled at him, but his eyes seemed sad, and his smile was tight.

“You got plans for next year? College or anything?”

“Nah. I think college is, on the horizon, but I’m taking a gap year. Saving up to move out and pay for school and everything. Probably gonna go to community college to save some money. And then maybe grad school?”

“That’s smart, you know? Finding ways to save up. My dad is debating pushing college on me. Like, if I do run the business, there’s some shit I should know going into it, right? But I think he also sees that I’m way too dumb for college, and, like, I don’t need a degree to get hired. I’ll just,” Steve made an upwards sweeping gesture with his right hand. A gesture that Billy understood to vaguely mean nepotism.

“What would you rather do? If not run the thing.”

“I like tie-down, and I could feasibly do it for a long time. I could branch into other events, too, like steer roping and all that. Same idea as calf roping but a different animal. Literally. It’s a steer. But I’d be content just doing the events until I croak. I have absolutely no desire to rise through the ranks, or whatever.” Steve rolled his eyes, balling up the little napkin wads he had made into another napkin from the dispenser. Billy appreciated it. He’s had to clean up crap like that from this very floor. “I just love being around the rodeo. The animals and all the people. I don’t really wanna be anywhere else.”

“At least you have something you love. Like, you’d be happy to do that for the rest of your life, and not in an I’ve got nothing better to do way, but in an, I’m passionate about this way. A lot of people don’t really. Get that.” Billy included.

It’s not that he doesn’t have passions, it’s just that they’re not necessarily sustainable to him.

He knows he’s dangling by a thread with his father. Knows after his eighteenth birthday, he should be ready to be kicked out or asked to pay rent at any time. He needs a career that’ll get him some fucking money if he wants to get out and cut off his dad entirely. He can’t be forced to go crawling back to him because he wanted to self-publish his gay ass poetry that never took off or drum in a rock band that went nowhere.

To name a few.

“Yeah, I mean. Sometimes I think that I probably would’ve never set foot in a rodeo if I wasn’t literally born into one, so I kinda wonder who I’d be if this wasn’t everything I knew, but I still really love doing it, and it’s something that I’m actually good at, which speaks volumes.”

They were interrupted by Lorraine returning, placing two identical plates in front of them, a glass of water for Steve, and pulling hot sauce and ketchup out of her apron pocket.

“You two let me know if you need anything else.”

Steve beamed at her, thanking her softly and Billy’s heart fluttered like a stupid idiot.

They tucked in, Steve shoving food into his mouth until his cheeks were bulging, chewing aggressively. It made Billy laugh and nearly spew coffee all over the table.

“I figured you’d have better manners, being the heir to a rodeo dynasty or whatever.”

Steve pulled a face, showing Billy the chewed-up food in his mouth.

“How’s that for manners?”

It was actually fucking funny watching him try to swallow everything stuffed in his mouth.

“It’s borderline painful watching you eat.”

Billy laughed as Steve flicked a piece of scrambled egg at him. It landed on his shoulder. Billy slurped it right off his shirt.

“See! Now, who's the one with no table manners?”

“Still you, Sugar. Still you.”

Breakfast was, like, actually fun.

Not that Billy was expecting it to be shitty, but he wasn’t expecting it to be as carefree, as easy, as it was. He and Steve just, kinda, clicked.

Steve was easy to talk to. He was easy to listen to, easy to laugh with, and even easier to look at.

He’s kinda, everything Billy has ever wanted in a person.

He slid his hand into Billy’s as they were leaving the diner, smiling shyly at Billy when he looked over at him.

And Billy stopped in his tracks, right there in broad daylight, tugging Steve by his hand closer to Billy’s body, sliding his hands up his arms, feeling over Steve’s shoulders, and down his back to settle on his hips. Steve wrapped both arms around Billy’s shoulders, leaning closer to him, almost pressing his whole body against Billy’s.

And it was easy. Kissing Steve was just as easy as talking to him, as laughing with him, as looking at him. It was simple and nice and made Billy feel something he really didn’t want to put too much thought into.

Something that was decidedly not easy.

They pulled away from one another, both their lips red and slick.

Billy opened the passenger door, and Steve folded himself into the seat with a ridiculous amount of grace.

And as Billy drove them aimlessly through the city, he tried not to think of the expiration date on this whole thing, on the dates listed on the back of Steve’s t-shirt.

They’ve got a little under a month together.

And Billy was determined to make that the best goddamn month of both of their natural lives.

[nekojitachan]

How to Steal a Million (part 4?)

I think it’s part 4. We’re going with part 4

Find previous part here

This is really along the ratings of ‘T’. Mentions of forgery, stealing, threats of bodily harm (it IS Neil and Andrew, after all) but nothing serious. Lots of snark.

*******

Neil pressed against one of the doorways which led into the main gallery of the Kleber-Lafayette Museum, where the Cellini Venus was currently on display; he’d heard so much talk about it at the party he’d attended with Allison that he couldn’t resist coming to see the exhibit. After a minute of surveilling the room (checking the exits, any signs of cameras, the position of the guards, etc.) he stepped away the room… only to bump into someone a moment later due to the crowd of people.

Only to bump into L.A.

“What the hell are you doing here?” Neil hissed as he recoiled in surprise (and forced himself not to pull a knife).

“Huh, funny how we only meet under the most ‘artistic’ of circumstances’,” L.A. remarked as he gestured to the artworks hung on the walls around them, his deep voice sarcastic yet expression impassive; he was dressed in black pants and a black dress shirt which actually looked expensive and showed off his muscular build.

“Funny how I always feel the urge to stab you when we meet,” Neil muttered as he smoothed down the front of his dark blue jumper; Allison had dressed him before he’d left her house that day, so at least he appeared presentable.

Why did he suddenly care if he appeared presentable?

There was the tiniest twitch to the left corner of L.A’s mouth before he stepped forward. “You might want to look into that.” While Neil glared at the asshole’s back, the American nodded toward the crowd. “Lot of people here to see your statue, seems it’s famous.”

“You wouldn’t dare,” Neil accused the man as he reconsidered the whole ‘no stabbing’ thing.

L.A. held up his hands and shook his head. “I’m off duty at the moment. What about you?”

Before Neil could question why the asshole had asked that, someone called out his name; he turned with a fake smile and nodded to Aldritch, who held out his hand to be shook.

“I’m fine, how are you?” he asked in return, then motioned to L.A. “Uhm, Monsieur Aldritch, the director of the museum and….” Well, he couldn’t exactly say ‘Larcenous Asshole, semi-decent thief’, could he?

“Minyard,” L.A. said without missing a beat as he gave Aldritch’s extended hand a very brief shake. “Josten and I are old friends, we used to spar together.” He leaned in as if to share a secret. “I usually won,” he said in a mock whisper.

While Neil glared at the asshole and Aldritch chuckled, L.A. continued. “Beautiful exhibit you have here, lots of valuable things.”

“Oh yes,” Aldritch agreed as he turned to Neil. “Please notice all of the security precautions we’ve taken with your family’s statue.” Then he turned back to L.A., who somehow managed a semi-interested expression on his usually impassive face. “Are you interested in art, Mr. Minyard?” When L.A. nodded, Aldritch smiled. “And are you interested in security?” the middle-aged man asked.

“Oh yes, very much so,” Minyard assured him while Neil wondered if there was a suitable place to hide the asshole’s body (after it was perforated to his heart’s content).

“Wonderful, let me show the two of you around.” Aldritch didn’t wait for their agreement before he walked away; since L.A. followed, Neil gritted his teeth together and did the same.

Aldritch headed straight for the Cellini Venus; L.A. made a mocking bow then held out his left arm in a clear sign for Neil to take it. At first he was about to ignore it, then Neil ‘smiled’ and accepted it, just so he could ram his elbow into the bastard’s ribs.

L.A. stumbled but otherwise remained on his feet and didn’t make a sound, but gave Neil a narrow look as they reached the pedestal which housed the Cellini Venus. Aldritch, oblivious to what had just happened, smiled at them and motioned to the blue lights which circled the base of the pedestal. “These are infrared beams which surround the Venus.” When L.A., acting like a proper idiot, went to touch the Venus, Aldritch gasped and swatted at his hand. “No, don’t touch it! That will trigger an alarm if the beams are broken, it’s an E.E.D.A. system.”

“That’s so impressive.” L.A. somehow managed to put a little emotion in his voice while Neil fought not to roll his eyes over what was really a common security protocol. “What happens if a thief somehow manages to turn off the system?”

“No, not possible,” Aldritch insisted with a slight frown. “There’s guards here all the time, and only myself and two other people can disable the system. We have back-up generators in case there’s a power outage, and it’s offline to prevent anyone from hacking into it.”

“Amazing,” L.A. drawled. “You’ve truly thought of everything.”

“Yes, I feel that my family’s statue is in perfectly safe hands,” Neil said with a slight inclination of his head. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I’ve an appointment I can’t be late for.”

“Oh, of course! I’m pleased you were able to stop by.” Aldritch wished him well, and somehow Neil wasn’t surprised when L.A. followed him out of the museum.

“Look, stay the hell away from this place or I’ll report you to the cops, whoever you are,” he insisted as he went over to where he’d parked the MG. “Go find something else to ‘liberate’.”

“Minyard, Andrew Minyard,” L.A. said with an offending sniff. “It’s like you don’t trust me or something.”

“Might have something to do with you breaking into my house,” Neil muttered as he climbed into the MG.

“That was us meeting cute.”

Neil stared at the insane American for a couple seconds before he shook his head. “Do me a favor?”

“Hmm?” Despite Andrew’s (was that his real name?) curious tone, there was a hint of wariness in his hazel eyes.

“Stand in front of my car,” Neil asked as he motioned at the hood of the MG.

“Why?” Now there definitely was a gleam of wariness in Andrew’s eyes.

“So I can run you over and not have to worry about you bothering me anymore.”

The American radiated disapproval as he crossed his muscular arms over his chest. “As much as I find this flirting routine somewhat amusing, I need to talk to you about-“

Once Neil heard the ‘f’ word, he started the car’s engine then took off, unfortunately without hitting the asshole.

*******

Andrew collapsed on the bed in Kevin’s hotel room and sighed.

“If you’re about to rant about the coffee again, I don’t want to hear it,” Kevin said as he henpecked at the keyboard, his attention focused on the monitor.

“As if you’re bundle of joy until you get a few shots of espresso in you,” Andrew muttered while he scrubbed at his face with the palms of his hands.

“I don’t need ten spoonfuls of sugar and a pint of milk to go along with them,” Kevin argued before he turned to look at Andrew. “Now tell me you did something today other than haunt several bakeries.”

“Fuck you.” Andrew gave his partner the finger as he sat up. “Only two bakeries today, and yes, I did.” When Kevin gave him an expectant look, he rolled his eyes. “I talked to one Bernard Grammont, who is certain that Stuart Josten is a forger though he lacks any concrete proof. Also, I ran into Neil Josten again, who was checking out the display at the Kleber-Lafayette Museum.” He did his best not to wince as he felt a twinge in his ribs from where the sneaky bastard had hit him. “Didn’t seem to want to run into anyone there, which was rather odd.”

“Hmm, it does seem suspicious, but remember we’re not being paid to prove anything with Josten, at least not yet.”

Grammont would have hired Andrew to investigate Josten… but for some reason he didn’t want to work for the man. Maybe there was something to Renee warning him about the family… or maybe the game he’d started with Neil Josten would be ruined if money was involved.

Whatever the reason, for once Andrew found himself interested in something other than cracking a case or catching a bad guy. The more he interacted with Neil Josten, the more he couldn’t stop thinking about the enigmatic young man with the pale blue eyes and sharp tongue.

He’d most likely be disappointed once he got to the bottom of the mystery, but until then… until then he’d let things play out as a rare break from boredom. What could it cost him? Other than some bruises and a bit of blood loss, that was.

He might want to stop by the nearest pharmacy the next time he was out.

*******

Neil took a sip of the red wine he’d barely drank all night and managed one of his ‘fake’ smiles everyone except those who knew him (a rare few) fell for. “It’s a very nice wine.”

Riko grinned and tapped a finger against the base of his own wine glass. “My family owns the vineyard.”

“Oh really?” Neil managed to look impressed by that declaration, even though he knew very well what all the Moriyamas owned (and that the Hatfords owned a vineyard or two as well). “But it doesn’t have the Moriyama name on it.”

“It’s under one of our subsidiary holdings,” Riko explained, as if he held any real power when it came to the Stone Mountain corporation.

“It’s always good to diversify.” Or so Neil had been told – that’s why Stuart did his art forgery thing, Uncle Will and Henry oversaw the main business, Jamie was expanding into online money laundering and had offered for Neil to help (something he was considering, if he could extract Stuart out of this most recent mess), and Ally… eh, Ally was Ally.

Riko beamed at Neil as if he was a pet which had done a particularly clever trick. “See, you’re different from the others, I can be myself with you and not have to talk about silly stuff.”

No, not really; Riko hadn’t started screaming and throwing a temper tantrum yet, which was his ‘real self’ by all accounts, but Neil merely ‘smiled’ and had another minute sip of the wine (which was so-so) while Riko rambled on (more like bragged) about how rich and powerful his family was. All the while, Neil glanced around to make sure that Matt and Dan were seated on the other side of the room, his ‘back-up’ for the night.

As soon as Riko paused for breath, Neil ‘smiled’ and poured him more wine. “I’ve a feeling that there’s something you’re holding back.” When Riko stared at him in interest, he tilted his head to the side. “Something… something to do with my uncle, perhaps?”

He knew that Riko had bought a painting from Stuart a few years ago, and was renowned for his own collection; the Moriyamas were famous patrons of the arts, and Riko had believed himself to be something of an artist while growing up – him and his foster brother, Kevin Day. From what Stuart had told Neil, Kevin was the one with the real talent, but there had been some sort of accident which had left the young man unable to paint anymore, and Riko had eventually gone to work for his uncle, Tetsuji.

Yet Riko had said nothing to Neil when they’d met at the party the other night, had done his best to flirt with Neil until he’d agreed to a date. That behavior had made Neil suspicious as hell, made him want to figure out what was going on with a scumbag like Riko Moriyama.

Well, and it was always nice to get on Renee’s good side, which would happen if he and Allison could figure out some way to get Riko in trouble while helping out the man’s assistant, Jean Moreau, whom Renee had somehow befriended….

Riko appeared startled for a moment, and then tried some sort of shy act which Neil could see through with ease. “Well… to be honest… yes, there is something I wanted to talk to you about in regard to your uncle – your uncle and his collection.”

Neil managed to retain the mild smile while he braced himself for what might come next, if it had anything to do with Stuart’s ‘little hobby’ or not (had Riko figured out that the Monet he’d bought was a fake?).

“That is, I-“

One of the servers approached the table and gave a short bow. “My apologies, Mr. Moriyama, but there’s an urgent call for you.”

Riko frowned as he patted his right thigh as if to check his phone, which hadn’t rung or vibrated during their meal. “That’s odd, I shouldn’t be interrupted tonight.” He then gave an apologetic smile to Neil. “I’m sorry, but it has to be important if they tracked me down here.”

“That’s okay.” Neil watched him leave before he slumped back into the velvet-covered booth… only to jerk upright when Andrew slid into it a few seconds later. “Oh for fuck’s sake, really?”

The slightest of frowns tugged at the corners of Andrew’s full lips. “Is that any way to greet me after the trouble I went through to arrange a few minutes alone with you?”

Neil’s smile took on a sharp edge. “Well, I can do the usual way when you startle me.” His hand crept toward the butter knife on the table while he spoke.

“I thought you French people weren’t supposed to be so violent,” Andrew said as he leaned away a little.

“You’re certainly living up to Americans being rude cliché, now go away.” Neil made a shooing motion with his napkin. “My, uhm, dinner partner isn’t known for his even temper.”

“Your ‘dinner partner’ is a known psycho. Nice taste in dates there,” Andrew said with blatant disapproval.

“He’s not my date and I’m not interested in the opinion of a barely competent thief, now go away before you need more than a simple bandage,” Neil hissed out.

For some reason, Andrew’s left eyebrow raised the slightest amount. “I’ve something important to tell you, if you’ll stop trying to kill me for five minutes.”

“Where’s the fun in that, and leave before he returns!” As annoying as the American could be, Neil didn’t want to deal with the mess Riko could leave if he returned and found someone sitting at his table with the person he’d asked out for the night.

“I will, if you agree to meet me tomorrow afternoon. Suite 136, the Ritz.”

Andrew showed no sign of leaving, while Neil could see Riko across the room; luckily, Matt had gotten up and currently was running interference. “Fine,” he gritted out, conceding that Andrew had won for the moment with ill grace. “Now go before you really do get stabbed.”

“Tomorrow,” Andrew said before he grabbed Neil’s wineglass, managed to gulp down its contents in a couple seconds then slipped away.

Neil really should stab the bastard, he thought as he fought not to grin.

His amusement vanished when a scowling Riko sat down beside him. “I think it was a prank call, there was nothing but gibberish on the line,” Riko muttered as he pulled out his phone and typed something on it. “I’m going to have someone look into it.”

Neil hoped that Andrew had done a good job of covering his tracks and mumbled something soothing until Riko was finished. “Now where were we… ah yes, your uncle’s collection.” Riko summoned what he probably thought was a friendly smile but was ‘off’ enough to make Neil want to shiver. “I have to admit, I’ve always admired it, especially one piece in particular.”

“And that is?” Neil asked, no longer certain that Riko had realized that he’d bought a fake.

“The Cellini Venus.” Riko’s gaze grew unfocused as he discussed the statue. “There’s something about it, something that haunts me. I admit, I was happy to meet you since I’d hoped you might be able to intervene with your uncle on my behalf since he’s refused all offers to buy the statue before now, but I’m enjoying our time together.”

Ah, that’s what it was – another person enraptured with the Venus. Neil gave him a sympathetic smile and dared a slight pat on the hand. “I understand, it is a true masterpiece and I wish I could offer it to you, but my uncle is adamant about it remaining in the family. If that ever changes, I’ll reach out to you first.” Not that it ever would.

“It was worth a try, wasn’t it? And at least I’ve you as a consolation prize.” Riko grinned as he twisted his hand around to capture Neil’s.

Not quite, but Neil was still for a couple of seconds since he noticed the server returning to the table and used the young man asking if there was anything they needed as an excuse to tug his hand free and order a cup of tea rather than jab the assuming asshole with a fork. That was the signal for Dan to call him soon after the drink arrived so he’d have an excuse to end ‘the date’.

Unfortunately, he had to agree to see Riko again, but he was free of the man’s presence for the night. After thanking Dan and Matt via text and assuring Allison that he was safely on his way home, he ensured that he wasn’t followed to the small mansion he shared with Stuart and Davis, where he gladly collapsed into his own bed.

He wasn’t in the mood to leave his home the next day, but he’d promised Andrew to meet up with him, as well as brunch with Matt and tea with Renee. After lounging around for part of the morning, he finally got up and dressed in a comfortable pair of jeans and an old sweatshirt of Matt’s then went downstairs. Davis shook his head at his appearance and handed him a cup of tea before Neil went into Stuart’s study.

“There you are, interested in some breakfast?” Stuart asked as he motioned to the plates of food set out on the small table.

“I don’t have much time, I’ll eat something at Matt’s,” Neil said as he grabbed a small croissant to hold him over until then. “You’ll be happy to know that you can keep selling your artwork to Riko Moriyama since he has no clue about them being fakes. He asked me out because he was hoping I could get you to sell him the Cellini Venus.”

A predatory grin spread across Stuart’s face. “That’s a relief, he’s terrible at bargaining.”

“He’s terrible at a lot of things,” Neil muttered; during their conversation, the doorbell rang and Davis admitted the guest.

Stuart put aside his own cup of tea to go see who it was and Neil followed; there was an older gentleman dressed in a suit who nodded when Stuart greeted him, then pulled out a notepad to ask him about being the owner of one ‘twenty-nine inch marble statue named Venus by the artist Benevento Cellini’.

“Yes, that’s my statue, on loan to the museum,” Stuart agreed with a hint of suspicion. “What is this about?”

“It’s in regard to the insurance loan,” the man responded as he tapped the thick folder held beneath his left arm.

“What loan? I’ve never insured it since it’s priceless,” Stuart insisted while dread grew inside of Neil, thick and cold and slimy.

“It’s a precaution that the museum has taken for all the pieces in the exhibit,” the man explained, “except somehow your signature was overlooked on the Venus’ document.” He glanced around went over to the nearest table (18th century French) so he could pull it out, the intent clear for Stuart to sign it. “There’s no cost to you, it means that the work of art is covered until it’s returned to your possession in good order.”

Stuart approached the man with his hands clasped behind his back; Neil could tell that his uncle did his best to appear unruffled by this sudden complication. “That’s it? I just have to sign the paper?”

“Yes, and the statue will be fully insured for one million. It’s required of all the items for them to be in the exhibit and really should have been done weeks ago.” The man held out a pen for Stuart to use to sign the document.

It would look odd if Stuart refused and suddenly pulled out the Venus, especially when the exhibit already started. Still, Neil felt that sensation of dread grow as his uncle signed the paper. “Is there anything else? Any other requirements?” he asked as he approached his uncle.

The man nodded as he folded up the signed document. “As part of the insurance verification, the statue will be examined to ensure its authenticity. The company will send someone to do that on Friday, if you’d like to be there when it happens. This should have been explained already.”

Neil could barely nod, the same for Stuart, as the man promised to send them details before he left and apologized for the confusion. As soon as the door closed behind him, Stuart started to curse up a storm while Neil slumped against the wall.

“I can’t believe this, they told me nothing about authenticating it! How dare they not trust me!” Stuart ranted once he stopped cursing.

It was on the tip of Neil’s tongue to say ‘I told you so’, but how would that help the situation? Instead, he went back for his unfinished cup of tea then put on his shoes so he could leave.

“Where are you going at a time like this? We need to figure something out, to come up with a plan!” Stuart called out from the salon, where he was busy pouring himself a glass of whiskey.

“I have,” Neil said as he stood up. “I’m going to steal the damn thing back.”

*******

[midnightiscoming-kasabian]

Kasabian's Serge Pizzorno: 'Being pretentious is my number one fear'

Tim Jonze - www.theguardian.com - Photo: Neil Bedford

2 Sep 2019

He’s the lairy lad rocker who scored one of the best ever goals on TV – in winklepickers. Now he is aiming to be music’s answer to David Lynch

Serge Pizzorno is looking back at the rise of his band Kasabian and trying to pinpoint when it all became a bit too much.

“You’d turn up at shows and there’d be 20-odd trucks there, a catering team, loads of people everywhere,” he says. “And you’d think, wow, this is actually a job for a lot of people, and it all rests on these four maniacs!”

This was in 2017: the band had just completed their sixth album, For Crying Out Loud, released to mixed reviews, and all was not well in camp. After 20 years together, Pizzorno was worried the band were getting stuck in a rut. And then there was the personal turmoil: not for songwriter Pizzorno, who had settled into family life in Leicester (he has two boys, Ennio and Lucio), but for Tom Meighan, the band’s wild-eyed frontman.

Mimicking their idols Noel and Liam Gallagher, Pizzorno wrote the songs while Meighan brought the stage presence, preposterous quotes (“Our songs sound like we’ve shit ourselves 10,000 feet in the air”) and ludicrous tales. Band legend had it that, whenever Meighan became too much to handle, the other members had to take him to the nearest Toys R Us store to calm him down. But following a split from his partner, the relentlessly upbeat singer was struggling. He cried in one interview at the time.

“Tom’s still figuring things out, but he’s in a much better place now,” says Pizzorno when we meet for coffee in London. But it’s no wonder they needed time out. “I was worried we would get stale. Sometimes you need to go down the rabbit hole to refresh things.”

The SLP is that rabbit hole. It’s his initials – his full name is Sergio Lorenzo Pizzorno – and the name of his forthcoming solo album, recorded at his home studio, the Sergery (yes, really). With its guest appearances from Little Simz and Slowthai, and wild eclecticism, it’s reminiscent of Gorillaz – a cartoonish world constructed as an escape from the pressures of being in an enormous band.

Pizzorno sees it less as a new direction and more a return to the way he started off making music. Back then he was using an old Atari and a Midi keyboard; these days he’s been recording on his phone, stealing snippets from 70s Italian horror movies, “weird Polish shit”, and whatever grabs his attention when he’s out and about.

“I’ll be in Tokyo, hear the buzz of the electricity running through the pylons, and be like...” he waves his phone in the air, as if frantically trying to record the sound. “All my mates will be taking the piss. And even in my own head I’m thinking, ‘I’m never gonna use this.’ But this time I did.”

Indeed, the buzzing pylons make it into The Wu, an incredibly odd song about wandering through hotel corridors in search of the afterparty. It’s a case study in Pizzorno’s esoteric influences, from the South African disco label Heads and Lee “Scratch” Perry to the late Nigerian synth wizard William Onyeabor. Elsewhere there’s Mediterranean house (Nobody Else), mariachi meltdowns (Meanwhile … in the Welcome Break) and, in ((trance)), the kind of joyously anthemic track that wouldn’t sound out of place in, well, a Kasabian set.

Did the rest of the band not think: can’t we have a couple of these tunes? “It’s probably testament to why we’re still together that they didn’t mind,” says Pizzorno. “Tom understands that you need to explore what else is out there. Otherwise you become the band everyone expects you to be.”

The irony is that Kasabian have never been the band a lot of people think they are anyway. When they emerged in the early 00s, with electro-influenced rock anthems such as Clubfoot and LSF, they were stereotyped as lairy lad rockers, when in reality they were just as enamoured by hip-hop and acid house.

“On our first record I would wanna sit people down and go, ‘No, no, no – this is where we were fishing for that stuff, Can and Neu! or whoever. But whatever we said, the journalist would just ask us about the Happy Mondays. I soon realised it was best to just keep your mouth shut, because if you’re still able to make albums and art, who cares where it comes from anyway?”

I interviewed the band a few times back then and always found them far kinder and more erudite than they were portrayed (“On the road carnage with rock’s rowdiest band!” screamed one NME cover line). But it’s fair to say, with their wild tales and boasts, they played up to it.

Was the lad thing a bit of an act? “We knew that journalists wanted it,” says Pizzorno. “But at the same time, we did grow up where, if you wanted to be in a band, you had to have your wits about you. If you’re playing in a village pub in Leicester in front of a load of lads that would throw darts at your head for having long hair, you can either go in and be all art school, or you can snap a snooker cue in half and say, ‘Let’s go!’ But then I still wanted to get them in the corner and talk about Jodorowsky afterwards.”

Pizzorno’s lad-rock credentials were no doubt enhanced by two televisual moments: a goal on Soccer AM, in which he improbably flicked the ball up in the air while wearing winklepickers before volleying it into a tiny hoop; and an even better strike during the Soccer Aid charity match that saw him scoop the ball over former England keeper David Seaman’s head and into the top corner of the net. The mention of these acts of sporting glory makes Pizzorno groan: “You’ll work for ages on a piece of music or art that you’re really proud of. But kick a ball through a hole in an inflatable bouncy castle and it’s what you become known for.”

Come on though, which was his favourite goal? “With the Soccer AM one I’d been up all night, I was hanging. If I was sober I’d never have even tried it. But the [Soccer Aid] one … not only is it a great goal, but for five minutes after scoring it, I’ve never been more off my nut in my life. As a pure sledgehammer hit of adrenaline, it was insane. God knows what it would be like to score in a World Cup.”

Less impressive when it comes to lad stereotypes was a cover of Q magazine, on which Meighan and Pizzorno appeared alongside two naked ladies, something that even back in 2011 looked like a relic of a bygone era. Pizzorno groans again, but this time he means it. “That really kills me,” he says. “It was sold to us as Jimi Hendrix, Electric Ladyland, a celebration of 60s psychedelia. But we learned an important lesson there – we need to take control over every element.”

Pizzorno says the band have always been more inclusive than people give them credit for. “Art can be the start of something. At [Kasabian’s] gigs you only have to look at the first few rows to see there’s people from all over the world, with completely different views on how things should be done, but at least we’ve got them together.”

There’s a song on The SLP that addresses this, the final track Meanwhile … in the Silent Nowhere. “It’s about communication,” says Pizzorno. “Previously, even if you were rightwing or had extreme views, it felt like there could be some sort of dialogue where you could at least hear each other’s stories. Now it feels like, ‘This is my belief, fuck you’ ... there’s a danger in us not sitting down and talking face to face.”

What does he think of the current political situation? “It’s like Vegas. Fundamentally, the system is rigged and whatever you implement, the outcome will be the same. You’re probably talking revolution here but we need someone to come along and start again.” Is Jeremy Corbyn that person? “He’s the best shot we’ve got ... but I think there’s more. There’s someone else out there that can marry spirituality [with politics] and break the system and get us to start again somewhere better.” He laughs: “I think I’m just waiting for the messiah.”

Right now, Pizzorno has more pressing problems than the overthrow of capitalism: how to be a musician without Meighan by his side. He’s planned an impressive stage show, with different characters performing each song. It sounds ambitious. “But in a really minimal way,” he stresses. “Not overblown, the opposite to lasers and screens. It won’t be pretentious. Pretentious is my number one fear.”

Will there be costume changes? “Very subtle ones. There might be a hat. I might be barefoot. Fundamentally, I want it to be like a David Lynch thing, where people feel on edge, as if they’ve entered another world for 50 minutes.”

Pizzorno says he knows he can never compete with Kasabian’s enormous gigs – those gigantic, truck-bearing affairs with catering teams and staff everywhere. “But the aim is to get to that same euphoric point,” he says, “just in a whole new way.”

The SLP is out now. The tour starts on 5 September at Glasgow SWG3.

[nekojitachan]

i have no idea if you're still taking prompts, but anything andreil either in the armies universe or in the way down we go universe would be gucci and i would love you forever. my life belongs to you now

Okay, so first off, @dancyon, thanks for all the messages you’ve sent me over time, the comments about the fics and so forth. I know you’ve asked if I’d ever do another story for Way Down We Go or if Mary hadn’t died, and oddly enough, I’ve had a plot idea for a while which merged the two.

And sorry for being ‘quiet’ lately, but back to trying to figure things out - one of them being my writing, and my writing in fandom in particular. I’ve been doing it for years, and while I’ve thought of each fic being a way to improve my skills, to learn something new... I have to say, lately I just feel like nothing I’m writing is worth anything, it’s just drivel and pathetic.

So I’m trying to get motivated to write again. This is something that actually got me busy at the keyboard, so I hope @dancyon that you are at least happy, since I know it’s something you’ve waited for a long time. And if it’s the last thing I do for AFTG, then it’s fitting that it’s back to WDWG, since that was my first fic for the fandom.

That said - the fic. Consider it a ‘what if’ for WDWG - if Mary had lived but sent Neil/Nathaniel off on his own at the beginning of the fic (believing she was about to die), and everything still takes place as written in the story. Warnings for things referenced in the story, language, Mary’s bad (abusive) parenting skills, and Andrew being protective of Neil.

*******

Through A Glass Darkly

*******

Mary hissed through clenched teeth as she motioned for Abramto take the exit for San Francisco. “Get off there,” she commanded, whichearned a disbelieving look from her son. “Do it.”

“But-“

“Do it,” she repeated, “and find the nearest petrolstation. Once there, put in a few li-“ dammit, she was slipping, “ah, a fewgallons and then run.”

“Mum, what’s happening?” Abram asked as he dared to glanceaway from the dark highway in front of them to give her a scared look. “That…we’re ditching the car?”

“No, you are,” she told him. “You’re going to run,Abram, going to keep going and never stop, never look back.”

“You’re not making any sense,” he argued as he shook hishead, his left eye bruised from a lucky blow that bitch had landed backin Seattle; Mary was certain he hid more injuries beneath his clothes, but he’dgotten off with less than her so he needed to move on. “We’ll-“

“No, we won’t.” Pain made her tone more waspish than usualas she fought not to curl up in a ball, to just give in to the burning agonyeating at her insides. “That prick… he got me good,” she admitted as she heldup her bloody left hand, a sardonic smile curling her thin lips when her songasped. “No,” she repeated when Abram opened his mouth, most likely to argueabout stopping to take care of the wound. “This isn’t something we fix withbourbon and stitches, I can tell, or else we’d already be in a motel by now.”No, Nathan had finally gotten to her in the end, but she’d make sure hewouldn’t get her boy. “So you listen to me, do you understand?”

“But, Mum, we-“

“Do you understand, Abram?” She’d back it with asmack if she had the strength.

It sounded as if the boy choked back on a sob, but his eyesremained dry and he gave a curt nod in the end. “Good. Next exit, then gasstation. Put in enough gas so I can drive away,” could muddy the waters, so tospeak, however much longer she had, “and then you run,” she ordered with asmuch force as she could muster. “You run and you don’t look back, you don’tslow down and you don’t trust anyone, do you hear me?”

“Yes, ma’am,” he said in a quiet voice as his hands grippedthe steering wheel hard enough to turn his knuckles white – they were herhands, were the Hatfords’ hands with the long, slender fingers.

“You keep moving, you-“ A cough took over, filled her mouthwith blood which she spat onto the left sleeve of her shirt. “Become someoneelse,” she said once her throat was mostly clear. “Use the contacts in thebinder, get a new ID, and another one, and-“

“I know, Mum, I know. I promise. Just… just rest,” hepleaded as he took the exit a little fast.

“You’ll survive, you’re a Hatford,” she assured him as sherested her back against the seat, as she did her best to ride out the latestwave of pain. “Keep moving.”

It was quiet the next few minutes (save her laboredbreathing) until Abram found a gas station; he parked next to the farthest pumpand did his best to straighten up his appearance, then pulled on an oversizedhoodie as he went to pay for a couple gallons of gas. He returned with a bottleof water and some over the counter pain pills, which Mary choked down beforeshe forced herself into the driver’s seat while he tended to the pump.

She made him take her few belongings with him since she hadno need for them (that and the less which was found on her, the better). Hischin wavered and there was a suspicious gleam in his eyes (darkened bycontacts), but he held it together, mindful of the lessons she’d taught him, ofany possible cameras around the station.

For one improbable moment, she felt the urge to pull himclose and hug him, to not let go… but he wasn’t a child anymore, hadn’t beenone for years, and he needed to run before the prick’s people got any closer.Besides, the clock was winding down for her, what good would it do to wasteprecious moments on something so useless? “Go, and live,” she told him as shestarted the car.

He may have said something like her name or ‘Mum’, but sheslammed the door shut and was already pulling away, refusing to look back at heronly child. Teeth clenched against the pain, she drove away, determined to putas much distance between her and Abram as possible in the small amount of timeshe had left.

After that, it was fighting the agony and blood-loss to keepcontrol of the car, to remain in the lane and not attract unwanted attention.To give Abram one last fighting chance.

The last thing she remembered was seeing a sign for the exitto King City before everything went dark.

*******

She woke up to the sound of beeping and an ache in her head,to a sense of lethargy. It was so difficult to open her eyes, and there wassuch a foul taste in her mouth that she gave up and let the darkness pull herunder once again.

The next time there was still the annoying beeping noises,was still the lethargy which made it difficult to move her limbs, still theawful gumminess in her mouth. There was also some git flashing a light in herbarely open eyes, which prompted a weak moan.

“Hello? Can you hear me? Blink twice if you can.”

It took so much effort, but she did that, as well as try toswat their (was it a man?) hand away to get rid of the light. There were morewords but she didn’t understand them, not when they all blurred together, andshe fell asleep once again.

When she woke later, she was more coherent and managed tomumble out a request for water to the woman sitting next to the bed. The person(a nurse?) scrambled and held a straw to her lips (something was wrong, why waseverything so blurry, so distant?), but only let her take a couple of sips beforepulling it away. “I’m sorry, but you can’t drink too much at once.”

It took a few tries, but she (why couldn’t she rememberanything? Like her name and where she was?) managed to make hertongue, so thick and heavy in her mouth, work. “Wha… where?”

“Where? Oh.” The woman, appearing middle-aged and dressed inscrubs, her salt-and-pepper hair cut short and styled in tight curls close toher scalp and a reassuring smile on her dark-skinned face bearing only a fewwrinkles. “You’re in the Natividad Medical Center. Now let me page Dr. Carra,he’s been waiting for you to wake up again.”

What followed was more poking and prodding, with lots ofquestions and very few answers – from Dr. Carra or Beth Wilson, the nurse mostoften assigned to ‘Jane’; it eventually came out that she’d been pulled from acar wreck near King City almost a year ago, near death and with noidentification. After the local hospital had stabilized her, they’d sent her toNatividad when it became clear that she was in a coma from the blood loss andtrauma, and the staff there weren’t surprised that she’d woken up with nomemory of her past. Now they were focused on her getting better.

Oh, it wasn’t quite as simple as that, not when she’d beenfound in a stolen car, when her fingerprints were so badly damaged that theycouldn’t manage a complete enough one to search any database for her, whenshe’d been found with no ID at all, when her body was covered with scars from beforethe accident. She’d overheard a couple of nurses talk about how the police werewaiting for her to recover enough to talk to her, but Dr. Carra refused toallow them access until she showed some signs of progress.

She might not remember anything of her past, but she knewsomehow that she couldn’t let that happen, that she had to get out of therebefore the police got involved. So she faked the lack of recovery, made it seemlike her body wasn’t cooperating when it came to walking again or handlingsimple tasks… and after a few weeks (right around when Dr. Carra talked aboutsending her on to another hospital for evaluation), she timed it just right duringthe night, hit up the nurses’ locker room for a change of clothes and whatevercash she could find, and slipped out of the hospital with no one the wiser.

Perhaps she couldn’t remember her name, where she was fromand how she’d ended up in that car accident, but somehow, she knew how to sneakaround, how to steal and pick pockets, how to vanish. She put those skills touse getting the hell out of Salinas, and when the Greyhound bus stopped atArizona, her hair was dyed another color and cut into a new style.

It was a littletrickier to get into Mexico; she spent a couple of weeks picking pockets on herway from Arizona to Texas, until she had enough to bribe a truck driver tosmuggle her over the border at the Presidio Bridge. For some reason, a sense ofanxiousness left her once she was out of the country, though there was anagging feeling that she’d forgotten something, that she’d left somethingimportant behind.

Yet what could she do when she no longer remembered herpast?

It wasn’t easy, being an American woman alone in Mexico, onewithout papers at that, but Jane (as she’d taken to calling herself), realizedthat she was highly adaptable and resilient. She was also willing to dowhatever it took to not only remain alive but to stand on her own, as anyonewho tried to harm or dismiss her soon learned. Since she didn’t go out of herway to pick fights and was quick to offer solutions to deal with any ‘ruffled’feathers, she eventually was able to settle down in Monterrey as Judith Leeson,an ex-pat who worked as a bartender most nights but who also was available as atranslator for the various businesspeople who came to the city for business(legitimate or otherwise).

Whoever she’d been in the past, she appreciated the factthat she’d learned several languages, as the German, French, bit of Italian andPortuguese as well as the rapidly expanded Spanish came in very handy in hernew life.

At times, she felt the urge to move on, to start anew, butshe didn’t know what she was running from so she forced herself to remain inthe safe place she’d found for herself and to continue building up a heftysavings account while she paid attention to the customers who came into thebar, the people who hired her for her language skills, the neighbors around hersmall apartment. No detail was too tiny to ignore, and she promised herselfonce the money reached a set amount, she’d leave Mexico and start anew.

For some reason, she had a yearning to see London….

She’d spent two weeks running all over the city for someFrench prat who didn’t even like beer but was there because of the one brewingcompany, and so wasn’t in the mood to deal with customers at the moment (truthbe told, she rarely was in the mood to deal with customers). When a group ofAmericans asked Jair to switch the channel on a television from a telenovelarerun to one which gave updates on sports, she shrugged to show she didn’t carebecause it should at least keep them distracted.

For once the patrons weren’t interested in some football orbaseball recap, but that one new sport – Exy. Jane (Judith) found herselfgrowing annoyed as always whenever it was brought up, which she’d never beenable to figure out why – at least it was fast-paced, like soccer. Yet she feltanger build up inside of her whenever she heard the word ‘Exy’, whenever shesaw young people run across one of its courts, and that evening was noexception.

The commentator went on to recap what must be somecollegiate season, and her shoulders tensed and temper spiked each time thewords ‘Edgar Allan’ were brought up, enough so that Ines, one of the servers,gave her a worried look when she stopped by to pick up the drinks for hercustomers. Jane grit her teeth and forced herself to pour the shots of tequilasand beers, to make the margaritas and whatever else the guests wanted, halftempted to down a drink herself.

The one table cheered when the announcer got to the finalgame, between the Edgar Allan Ravens and the Palmetto State Foxes; all Janecared about was that it meant that the segment should soon be over. She hadjust set down a bottle of tequila when it felt like someone kicked her in thehead.

“-at this point in the game, Neil Josten switched from astriker to the backliner position. I don’t know if people are aware that heplayed as a backliner years ago when he was Nathaniel Wesninski, but obviouslyhe didn’t-“

Nathaniel Wesninski.

Nathaniel Abram Wesninski.

Abram.

Nathan Wesninski.

The Hatfords.

She was Mary Jamilyn Hatford Wesninski.

A feeling of disconnection washed over her as she stared atthe television, at the game displayed on it; a small figure in white and orangeran across a black and red court, the number ‘10’ and name ‘Josten’ across hisback, while a cropped image of his face appeared in the corner along with thebanner declaring him to be ‘Neil Josten – PSU Striker #10’.

That… that was Abram. He was a few years older thanthe last time she’d seen him, his hair color restored to a deep auburn and halffalling into his eyes – his blue eyes. There were strong echoes of Nathanin his appearance, marred by sharp cheekbones and thin eyebrows and a fullbottom lip, as well as a scar that ran across the boy’s nose and beneath hisleft eye, and another through his right eyebrow.

There was also an ‘A’ tattoo on his left cheek.

“Judith? Is everything okay?”

Mary nearly grabbed the small knife she used to cut up fruitand shoved it into Ines’ throat before she caught herself in time. “I… I’vea bad headache,” she half-lied in Spanish; her head did hurt, probably fromthe returned memories, but it was more the realization that her son was playingExy, that he’d been back at Edgar Allan of all places, right infront of the damn Moriyamas… what the hell had happened?

She was going to beat the boy black and blue once she gother hands on him. Beat him until he never dared to argue with her again, to goagainst her wishes.

Damn Exy.

It took a couple of weeks before she could leave Monterrey, finishan owed job and line up a passport which would stand up to any scrutiny as wellas find a driver with a SENTRI card who could get her out of the country (atleast she had plenty of money and contacts this time around). While she waitedfor the forger to come through, she found out that Nathan was dead, buried inthe ground (or whatever, may the prick rot in Hell) the last few years afterhe’d been killed in prison (at least Seattle had been worth something)and most of his people dead or on the run.

That Abram had somewhat listened to her, as he’d made it outof San Francisco… but eventually ended up at Palmetto State University with ascholarship to play Exy, after turning down Edgar Allan. It seemed that he’dignored her instructions to forego anything to do with the damn game andsomehow attracted the attention of the Moriyamas (according to what she couldpick up over the internet)… yet he was still alive (despite a very publicattempt on Riko Moriyama’s part to change that), and appeared to beoutside of their control.

Mary needed to reach her son, find out what was going onfrom a reliable source and get the both of them out of the country.

As soon as she crossed the border back into the States, she madeher way for one of her stashes of cash and weapons that had been left inNebraska. Even with Nathan dead, she felt as if there was a target painted onher back, now that she knew her past and had returned to the country which hadcaused her so much pain. Due to the paranoia and her lack of knowledge, she hadto waste more time backtracking and laying a false trail, ‘just in case’.

At least everything was still in the abandoned cabin in thePonca State Park, even if Mary spent the entire time hiking to it cursing inseveral languages. From there, it was driving in an old Ford sedan she boughtin Omaha to Chicago (with a few careful detours), where she could hit up an oldfamily contact for a new ID and hopefully for some of that reliableinformation.

After spending the night in a motel to clean up (and changeher hair), she set off for the French Market District to find Durand, planningto arrive soon after he opened the office. That gave her time to stop for a coffeeand a croissant at the nearby market, and she’d just finished both before sheset off to see the forger.

As soon as she walked into the man’s office, he paled andacted as if he’d seen a ghost even as he fumbled for something (a gun, mostlikely) beneath the counter. “No… this isn’t possible….”

“Yes, it is,” she assured him in French. “We firstmet almost twenty-four years ago, after I arrived in this country, at a partythat Blondel threw for Rieves. You complemented my necklace.” Which Nathanhad broke into pieces later that night in a fit of petty jealousy.

“But you’re supposed to be dead,” Durand insisted ashe set a pistol on the counter, doubts apparently put at rest. “Your son-“

“He thinks I’m dead,” Mary explained. “The last hesaw me… it wasn’t good. I barely survived and woke up without any memory untilrecently. I’m on my way to find him, after you provide me with a new IDand some information.”

“I’ll do my best,” Durand said with a slightinclination of his head after a moment’s hesitation “I’m sure he and your family,especially your brother, will be delighted to know you’re alive.”

“My brother?” Mary asked in confusion as she began to pullout a stack of money. “Which one?” Though she guessed he meant Stuart, sinceshe’d always been closer to him.

He confirmed that it was Stuart as he began to type on a laptop,then left her stunned with his next words. “He’s here in the States so it’lltake no time at all to reach him.” Durand paused to gaze at her. “Unless you’dprefer to reach out to him yourself?”

Stuart was here? Why was Stuart here? “I… yes.The Hatfords are working here now?”

Durand paused again, his expression unreadable save for aglimmer of concern in his dark eyes. “A lot has happened in the last severalyears, Mary. Nathan Wesninski is dead and his area is now run by MarcoHaywood.” Mary frowned at that then shrugged since she didn’t recognize thename. “Kengo Moriyama is dead and the organization is much stronger under thedirection of his son, Ichirou… with the Hatfords at his side instead of theButcher.”

That drew a gasp out of her – not that Ichirou had finallysucceeded his father (perhaps sooner than she’d expected) but that her familyworked for the Moriyamas. “How?”

“To repay a debt, one of a death owed, or so they thought,”Durand told her with evident pity as he turned the laptop around to face her.“Do you want to call your brother, or shall I?”

Stuart had come here because of her? The bloody fool – sowhy hadn’t he done something about Abram? Why was the boy playing Exy insteadof safe in England? “I’ll call him,” Mary gritted out as she memorized thenumber on the screen, which was different from the one back before her accidentand explained why she hadn’t been able to reach Stuart before then. “Now forthe ID. I need a driver’s license and a passport.” Once she reached Abram,she’d need a new set for him; perhaps Stuart could help her out.

Durand gave a slight nod and cited a number, which wouldburn through most of her money. Unfortunately, she didn’t see any way aroundit, not until she either hit up another stash, asked Stuart for some help or gotto Abram, who would hopefully have some money left.

It was quiet while for several minutes while Durand typed onhis laptop, until he cleared his throat. “Mary… I don’t know what all you’vebeen through, but I do know that things have changed a lot in the last fewyears. I suggest you talk to your brother and your son before you make anydecisions, the sooner the better.”

She gave him a cold look as she sat down in one of thechairs lining the opposite wall and lit up a cigarette despite the ‘no smokingsign’, and things were quiet again after that, other than when he asked her tostand so he could take her picture. While she waited for the new documents, sheused the burner phone she’d picked in Texas to search for new information onAbram.

‘Neil’ was back in the States after doing a media campaignin Japan (a fact which made her teeth grind together and her right hand ache tosmack him until he was barely conscious over daring to draw so much attentionto himself for what? Money? Adulation?), and supposed to report to the PSUcampus soon for the start of training.

The most recent pictures of the boy usually had him dressedin Exy gear and posed with Kevin Day (why wasn’t he at Edgar Allan? Did theMoriyamas own PSU as well?), but there were also ones of him in casual clothesnext to one Andrew Minyard, often with the short, impassive blond man appearingto block Abram from the photographers. Mary nearly bit her tongue in half whenshe read the caption about how the two were dating, and threw the phoneaside as she fumbled for another cigarette.

Had the foolish boy listened to her at all?

Durand tried to warn her once again to not do anythingfoolish when he handed over her new documents, but all she did was snatch themup before she slapped his payment down on the counter and storm out, determinedto reach Abram so she could pull him from the fucked-up mess he’d made ofthings.

As furious as she was, she took care not to drive directlyto the Palmetto State campus in case Durand broke faith in her (or, morelikely, someone was watching the man’s shop), timing things to arrive in SouthCarolina shortly after the Foxes’ summer practice resumed. She also held backon calling Stuart, unnerved despite herself from Durand’s repeat warnings andthe fact that her brother had gone to the Moriyamas because of her.

Why was her family so stupid?

Once on the PSU campus, she dialed the number she’d enteredin the one burner phone despite the early morning hour. It rang into voicemailbefore she hung up and dialed again, when Stuart finally answered on the secondring.

“The fuck are you?” he asked, his deep voice slurred withsleep.

Mary froze for a moment upon hearing her brother, a memorysurfacing of him cursing her out, gruff voice harsh but grey eyes pleading withher to stay, to not take Abram and leave London. “Hello, Stuart.”

It was quiet for several heartbeats, and then Stuart let outa string of virulent curses. “I will gut whoever the hell you are for this sickjoke,” he finally spat. “Gut you like a-“

“You always made me sandwiches with cream cheese andcucumbers,” she told him in a rush, well aware of how inventive he could bewith threats. “Even though Mum got on you to feed me something moresubstantial, you knew how much I loved them. And you’d slice the cucumbers allthin, even after you cut your finger so bad the one time, enough to leave ascar beneath the nail on your left index finger. You should have gottenstitches but you didn’t want Mum to know.”

Stuart drew in a sharp breath and held it for a couple ofseconds. “How?” he demanded to know. “You’re supposed to be dead, Nathanialsaid that bastard killed you.”

“He said that the prick hurt me badly in Seattle and I toldhim that I didn’t have much time so he had to go on without me, right?”

“Yeah. Did he lie, or you?”

Mary nodded even though Stuart couldn’t see her. “Neither.”When Stuart scoffed, she shook her head. “No, it’s the truth, I was bleedinginternally, had a ruptured spleen, among other things,” according to Dr. Carra,and she knew it wasn’t from the car accident, “and only the fact that someonesaw me wreck the car after Abram and I parted ways saved my life.”

“Where were you? Why did you show up now?” Stuart demandedto know as something clicked in the background – a lighter. “Off on a niceholiday?”

“Not quite,” she snapped as she tapped the fingers of herright hand against the steering wheel and squashed the urge for a cigarette.“Funny thing about almost bleeding to death and your body shutting down, itsometimes leads to a coma, of all things. When I woke up several months later,I didn’t remember who I was.”

“Convenient, that,” Stuart said with a hefty dose of sarcasmafter exhaling loudly. “What jogged the old noggin, eh? Suddenly feel the urgeto stab someone and everything came rushing back?”

“No, I saw my son playing a sport I forbade him to partakein ever again, at Edgar Allan of all places, on television. Imagine that.” Marywas just as good at sarcasm – one could call it a family trait. “Seeing thechild I spent several years on the run with back at the damn place I’d given upeverything for to keep him from, and then I find out you’re working for theMoriyamas? What the fuck, Stu?”

There was another harsh exhale before her brother answered,anger evident in his voice. “First? Nathaniel’s not a child anymore, if youhaven’t noticed. Second? You’ve been gone for over four years, Mary. Fouryears! A lot’s happened during that time, and a good bit of it because wethought you were dead. Joining the Moriyamas meant that we could finally takeout that bastard and repay him for all the grief he caused us, and-“

“What about Abram?” she demanded to know while she continuedto watch the front entrance of what her research told her was the athletes’dorm. “Was he part of the deal?” Had her brother, her family betrayed herbecause she refused to allow her son to join the Hatford organization?

There was another brief span of silence before Stuart huffedin response. “Yeah, it’s definitely you, either alive or a demon back from thedead.” Then he huffed again. “Not much of a difference, eh?” The faint bit ofhumor disappeared when he spoke next. “All I’ve done is look after that boy asmuch as I can, which isn’t half as much as I’d like, considering how much youfucked things up by taking him and running all over the damn place instead ofletting us help like we wanted.” He continued on when she tried to argue. “No,listen for once, dammit. I do what I can, but Natha- no, Neil is rightclever bastard and he’s made his own way, more or less. Got the main house totake him in, to extend its protection over him in exchange for him playing Exyand giving them part of his earnings.” The bastard sounded proud ofAbram, of all things.

“So they own him,” Mary clarified, made numb at the thoughtof how deep the Moriyamas had their hooks in her boy.

“They always owned him,” Stuart said with a mirthlesschuckle. “Thanks to the bastard. Nathaniel’s made it so he has some freedomnow, can play wherever he wants as long as he wins.”

“He’s still owned,” Mary ground out as she caught sight of ashort, lean figure in an orange shirt and grey shorts, and put the car in‘drive’. “I won’t stand for that, for him being property.”

“Mary, for fuck’s sake, what are you thinking? Everything’ssettled, don’t mess things up! Tell me where you are and I’ll come to you,okay?”

“My son’s out there, property andunprotected.” A son she slowly followed, mindful not to get too close as Abram joggedalong the deserted campus.

“For crying – he’s not ‘unprotected’!”

“What, the Moriyamas have guards on him?” She’d have to takethat into consideration when she grabbed Abram, but she didn’t spot anyone nearhim as of yet.

“No! I mean, not like that,” Stuart muttered. “Andrew’salways with him so he’s safe.”

‘Andrew’. “You know about his ‘boyfriend’.” She sneered asshe spoke the last word.

“Everyone knows about the runt, the two of ‘em are ‘out’.”Stuart sounded rather aggrieved about that.

“And you didn’t dissuade this ‘runt’ from your nephew?” Whatthe hell had Stuart been thinking the last few years? This was his way of‘looking out’ for Abram?

There was another loud scoff at that question. “Like hell Ididn’t. Thing is, your son is rather set on the ‘runt’… and I hate to admit it,but Andrew’s good for him.” He sounded even more aggrieved right then. “No one’sgonna touch Nathaniel while Andrew’s around.”

She’d see about that. “I’m not about to let my son remainproperty any longer, or in the company of a possessive thug. You need to thinklong and hard about where your loyalty lies, Stu,” Mary said before she endedthe call and tossed the phone out of the car, just in case her brother tried totrack it.

Aware that she didn’t have long, she followed from adistance until she saw Abram reach into the right pocket of his shorts, thengunned the car. Abram lunged out of the way of the vehicle, blue eyes wide withsurprise, and faltered when he caught sight of her.

Mary slammed on the brakes and scrambled to get out of thecar while Abram was stunned motionless, aware that she didn’t have much time.“Abram,” she called out as she stepped forward, the door left open and enginerunning. “It’s me.”

“You- you’re dead.” His voice could barely be heard over thesound of the car’s engine. “You can’t… I have to be imagining this.”

“No, it really is me. You were Henryk when we lived in Graz,Eike in Dresden, Charlie in Glasgow. We had to eat peanut butter sandwiches forthree weeks straight when we lived in Glasgow because the apartment didn’t haveany electricity or a stove, and Morrie gave us a deal on the-“

“The peanut butter when we got the new IDs,” he finished forher with an uncertain tone of voice. “It was that or the canned sardines, butyou were worried about the smell.”

“Yeah. I promised you some strawberries if you’d eat afterthe second week.” She hadn’t gotten him them until Paris, but Abram had chokeddown the sandwiches per their agreement.

He’d been a good boy – at least back then.

“How?” Abram asked as he took a slight step forward andignored the ringing of his phone. “I thought… you told me….”

“I know,” she assured him as she bridged the distancebetween them. “I nearly died, and I’ll explain everything later, but we have togo now, Abram. Get in the car and I’ll tell you on the way.”

Instead of listening to her, he frowned. “Go? Mum… no, gowhere?” he asked as he shook his head. “Come with me to the dorms, you can tellme everything there.”

She’d been gone too long; he’d forgotten everything,forgotten that he needed to listen to her. “I’m getting you out of here,away from the Moriyamas,” she explained as she latched on to his right wrist –was he wearing something beneath the sleeves of his shirt?

“But it’s fine with the Moriyamas,” he dared to argue. “Youneed to come with me and meet Andrew, sit down and-“

Angered with the way that he didn’t listen to her, that hedared to talk back when she’d come all this way to save him, Mary lashed out andslapped her son across the face with all her strength. “Abram, get in thedamn car,” she snapped as he went still. “I’m not going to argue with you.”

His eyes wide once more, he dared to shake his head. “Mum,I’m not going anywhere, this is my-“

She slapped him again, not once but twice. “Get in the damncar! This is for your own good!” As a startled cry of pain slipped past hislips, she grabbed onto his hair (that awful color) and yanked it hard as shestepped backwards. “We’re leaving!”

“No! Let go!” He lashed out with his arms, brought them upand out, and Mary found herself surprised both with him fighting back and withthe strength he possessed – he wasn’t a young teenager anymore but a strongyoung man who was able to knock her hands free even if he lost some hair andgained a scratch along his right cheek in the process. While she stumbledbackwards, he gave her one last (hurt) look then took off running.

“Abram!” she called out as she leaned against the side ofthe car to regain her balance. “Come back here!” However, the boy had alwaysbeen fast and dashed across the green rather than near the road, effectivelypreventing her from following in the car.

Mary slammed her aching right hand onto the hood of the caras she watched Abram vanish, furious at the boy for defying her and herself formessing things up so badly.

*******

Andrew ran his right hand over the now cold, empty side ofthe bed and swallowed a sigh; his idiot just couldn’t stay in bed on a Saturdaymorning, could he? Especially with the start of practice, when they had to getup early during the rest of the week and head off to the stadium to work out.

Andrew didn’t even want to think about when classes beganagain, when they had to be up too damn early.

That time he didn’t hold back the sigh as he sat up in thetoo-empty bed and glared across the room at a snoring, oblivious Kevin, thereason they were still on campus and not back at Columbia; the other Exyaddict should be waking up soon to go join his father and spend the day tweakinggame plans based on the last few practice sessions with the newbies (orsomething like that, Andrew hadn’t paid much attention once Kevin startedbabbling).

Hmm, there was the possibility of drenching the pain in theass with ice water if he didn’t wake up in time….

Somewhat appeased with ruining someone else’s day, Andrewhad just gotten out of bed when his phone rang; he was about to ignore it whenhe recognized Stuart’s ringtone and realized that the British bastard had tohave a good reason for calling him so early – that and Neil wasn’t insight.

Never a good sign.

“What?” he growled as he answered the call while he bent overto grab the pair of jeans he’d left on the floor the night before as a badfeeling settled in his chest.

“Is Nathaniel there?” When Andrew scoffed at the question,Stuart cursed in a fervent manner. “Fuck, you need to find him! Hedidn’t answer his phone!”

“What’s going on?” Andrew demanded to know as he yanked onthe jeans, half-hopping over to dresser where he kept his keys. “Is it one ofhis father’s people?”

“No, it’s more fucked-up than that. Mary’s alive.”

For a moment, Andrew thought that he was still asleep andhaving one hell of a messed-up dream – then he stubbed his toe against thedresser while Kevin let out a mumbled complaint before he rolled over to buryhis face in the damn fox plushie. “Mary? How the- never mind, I’ll find Neiland then you explain what the hell is going on.” As long as his loverhad his phone on him – and he better have the damn thing with him – thenAndrew would find him.

“I’m on my way, be there in a few hours. Be careful,” Stuartsaid in a rush before he hung up.

Andrew sent a hasty text to Renee as he shoved his feet intohis sneakers then was out the door, busy pulling up the tracker app on his phone.To his immense relief, it showed Neil moving at a decent pace (but not toofast, so hopefully running and not bundled up in the trunk of a car) across thewest end of campus.

By the time that Andrew was in the Maserati and out on themain street, Neil more or less had gone still – at Foxes’ Donuts. His attentiondivided between the road ahead and his phone, Andrew reached the building inunder five minutes, and somehow didn’t cause an accident on the way (somehow).

Due to the lack of students on campus that early in thesummer, he didn’t have a problem finding a parking space at the popular eateryfor once, and was out of the car barely after it stopped. He garnished a coupleof odd looks as he entered, probably for the way he yanked the door open or thefact that he hadn’t bothered to brush his hair, but all he cared about was thefigure in the hooded orange t-shirt sitting hunched over the table in the farcorner.

After quickly checking the donut and coffee shop for signsof anyone who matched Mary’s description (small, middle-aged woman), he stalkedover to Neil, who seemed to be staring into a cup of black coffee with a box ofdonuts and his phone on the table. “Where is she?” Andrew asked as he sat down– and felt a rush of rage overwhelm him when his boyfriend looked up.

Neil’s handsome face was swollen, bruised and scratched,reddened and purpled in such a way that Andrew knew it was only going to getworse in the next half an hour or so. His lower lip was puffy (but not splitfor once), as was his left eye, and a slightly scabbed over scratch ran downhis right cheek.

“I got you donuts,” Neil mumbled with a slight smile, theexpression strained and his eyes glazed as if he wasn’t quite all there at themoment.

“I’m going to kill her,” Andrew declared in German,furious that the woman who’d abused Neil for so many years instead ofprotecting him, who’d let him fend for himself with murderers hot on his trail,had hurt him yet again. “Where is she?”

“I don’t… I don’t know.” Neil went to rub at his faceand stopped just in time. “I ran and… I want to go home,” he told Andrewin a plaintive voice as he pushed the coffee away. “Can we just go home?”

Despite his anger, something pulsed warm and turgid insideof Andrew’s chest to hear Neil say those words. “Why do you think I’m here,idiot? Let’s go.” He grabbed the donuts then, carefully in case there were anyhidden injuries, gripped Neil by the right elbow to help him stand up.

He glared at anyone who glanced Neil’s way as they left, andwas mindful to check around them for signs of Mary (or anyone he thought mightbe her). “You’ll have to settle for the Tower,” he told his boyfriend as hehelped Neil into the passenger seat of the Maserati; it looked as if Neil hadjust been slapped around, judging from the way he moved – that and a bad caseof shock.

“That’s fine,” Neil murmured as he curled up in the seat asif cold.

Oh yes, definitely a case of shock, which Andrew supposedwas understandable when one’s mother returned from the dead like that. Evenhe’d be a bit nonplussed over Tilda showing up alive – and then look forward tobeing able to kill her again, but Neil had actually cared for the abusive bitchwho’d given birth to him.

For a moment, Andrew almost headed for the highway insteadof back to the dorms, but it would be safest for Neil to be surrounded byothers (even if they were the upperclassmen) than the two of them alone at thehouse in Columbia.

Renee, dressed in PSU sweats and her hair pulled back in amessy bun, was waiting for them at the front of the building when Andrew pulledin to the Fox Tower’s parking lot. Something dark flashed through her eyes whenshe caught sight of Neil, but all she did was give him a reassuring smile andhold the door open for the two of them (then ensured that it closed securely behindthem).

“I’ll be in my room when you’re ready to talk,” she informedAndrew when they reached the third floor. “Whatever you need, I’m here foryou.”

“Stuart’s on his way,” he let her know, and noticed how Neiltwitched at that. “We’re about to have a Hatford family reunion.”

“Hmm, okay. I’ll bake some scones.” Renee gave him a curiouslook but otherwise didn’t push for more of an explanation then, content to waituntil Neil was ready to talk.

Once back in their room (with Kevin still asleep), Andrewtugged Neil into the kitchen, where he put on a pot of coffee and thenmicrowaved a mug of water so he could make some tea. Once a bag was added to itto steep, he turned to his boyfriend with his hands held up.

Neil gave a slight nod and remained still while Andrewgently touched his face to examine the damage done to it, then sighed whenAndrew fetched a bag of frozen peas and tossed it to him. “Uhm….”

“Use it, see if it helps with that ugly face of yours,”Andrew drawled, furious once again that someone had hurt his boyfriend. “Andtell me what the hell happened.”

“Stuart called you,” Neil guessed as he held the bag againstthe left side of his face.

“A prize for you.” Andrew reached out to gently comb hisfingers through Neil’s tousled hair and frowned when that provoked a wince, yetNeil lightly grabbed his wrist to keep him from pulling his hand away so hedidn’t stop. “Keep talking.”

Neil took in a deep breath as if to steady himself andslumped toward Andrew, who allowed his boyfriend to lean against him, to seekthat bit of comfort. “I realized during my run that someone was following meand thought it might be one of Ichirou’s people, so I made sure to head towardthe more populated area of campus.” That explained why Neil had been close tothe donut shop. “Then she got out of the car and I….” Neil’s breath caught inhis throat and he gave a slight shake of his head. “I remember that night soclearly, her coughing up blood, how bad she looked, the pain in her voice… if Ithought for one moment she could survive, I wouldn’t have left her.”

“You were a kid and in bad shape yourself,” Andrew remindedhim as he thought about the scrawny, battered kid dropped off at Wayward Burns.“And you were used to doing what she told you, which was to run. Did she sayanything?”

“No, just that she would explain things later.” Neil tossedthe bag aside as he turned to face Andrew. “She told me to go with her, toleave.” He shuddered as he wrapped his arms around Andrew’s waist. “When I toldher ‘no’, she started hitting me.”

“I’m going to kill her,” Andrew repeated as he hugged Neilclose to him, furious at Mary for daring to hurt her son like that but alsohimself for not being there to protect his boyfriend. “She’s never going totouch you again.”

“Drew….” Neil pulled away just enough to frown at him. “Idon’t-“

“No,” Andrew insisted as he lightly cupped Neil’s leftcheek. “Somehow she doesn’t die and the first thing she does upon seeing you isto try to drag you away from the life you fought for and then beat you? Tell methat she doesn’t know it’ll be a death sentence for you if you run,” he argued.“Not if Stuart knew to warn us. She had to call him first, and he would havewarned her about your deal with Ichirou.”

Neil shivered, most likely at the thought of how theMoriyama lord would react at the news of him breaking his word – it wouldn’tjust be Neil paying the price in the end, but Andrew and Stuart and probablyothers. “I won’t run,” Neil swore as his arms tightened around Andrew. “Everythingthat matters to me is here.” His expression was a mixture of pain and confusionbefore he tucked his bruised face into the crook of Andrew’s neck. “Why wouldshe do that to me? I was so happy to see her, and then she wouldn’t listen tome.”

Because she was an abusive bitch. Because she didn’t see herson as someone who deserved to be treated with the utmost care and respect, butas a possession. Because it had never been about Neil (Nathaniel), but Mary.

However, all Andrew did was give his lover a kiss on theforehead then lightly push him away, hand the bag of peas over with a sternlook before he removed the tea bag and fixed a mug of coffee for himself. Afterhe picked up both mugs with one hand, he latched on to the front of Neil’s shirtthen tugged his idiot toward the bedroom. “Come on.”

Neil followed without a word, his feet shuffling along thefloor in a sure sign that he was worn out with shock. Once near their bed,Andrew set the mugs down on the nightstand then helped his boyfriend remove hisshorts before shedding his own pants and pulling back the mussed bedding soNeil could all but fall down onto the soft surface. “Drink it,” Andrew told himas he handed over the tea, mindful to ensure that Neil could hold the mug,before he crawled onto the bed himself.

Neil tucked into his left side once he was settled, and theydrank in silence while he texted Stuart to let the man know that his nephew wasmostly all right but Mary was dead as soon as Andrew found her. When Stuarttexted back for him to calm the fuck down, Andrew held out his phone to take apicture of Neil’s face and sent it to the bastard.

It was a few minutes before Stuart responded with themessage that he’d deal with his sister and for Andrew to watch over Neil. When Andrewtold him he better deal with the bitch by shoving a knife in her throat, themessage was marked ‘undelivered’, as if the man had turned off his phone.

“Don’t antagonize my uncle,” Neil mumbled as he rested hishead against Andrew’s shoulder, the empty mug held between his hands.

“Don’t take away my fun,” Andrew chided before he slurpedhis coffee. “Now go to sleep.”

“Bossy,” Neil complained, yet he set the mug aside and slowlystretched out on the bed with his right arm draped over Andrew’s left leg as ifthe contact reassured him; Andrew stroked his fingers along his boyfriend’sbony hand and watched Neil fall asleep, exhausted from the morning’s shock.

Once the coffee was gone, he debated throwing the empty mugat a loudly snoring Kevin, but figured the asshole would make too much of afuss and wake Neil up so he took to playing on his phone instead.

Half an hour later, Kevin finally came awake with ahalf-snore, half-snuffle and sat up with his arms still wrapped around the foxplushie. His hair stuck up in all directions while he blinked several times,gaze distant as if still caught in a dream, and then he glanced at his alarmclock. “Shit!” He went to get up and almost fell out of the bed. “An-Andrew!Why didn’t-“ Kevin let out a yelp as a knife flew past him. “What!”

“Be quiet,” Andrew hissed as Neil stirred. “Go back tosleep,” he murmured as he stroked his fingers along his lover’s hair while heslowly climbed off the bed. “It’s all right.”

Something incoherent was mumbled before Neil curled into asmaller ball beneath the blankets; Kevin managed to gain his feet and approachedthe bed, his green eyes widening with surprise when he caught sight of Neil’sface. “Wha-ah, right,” he finished with a whisper when Andrew went for a knife.“Okay.”

Andrew jerked his head toward the door as he fetched a pairof sweatpants to wear; after grabbing some pants of his own, Kevin followed.

They took turns using the bathroom (Andrew found someamusement in reaching it first and making Kevin wait), and both had some coffeewhile Andrew started on the donuts. “What happened to Neil?” Kevin asked aftera displeased look at Andrew’s belated breakfast, busy texting on his phone(probably Wymack to let him know he was running late).

“Had a run-in with a zombie,”Andrew explained after he finished a chocolate-chocolate glazed donut. WhenKevin gave him a pained look for that, he shrugged and grabbed a cream-filleddonut. “Unfortunately, it seems his mother’s not dead after all. It’s atemporary situation, though.” As in it would be corrected as soon as he foundthe bitch.

Coffee splashed onto the floor asKevin jerked forward at the news. “What? Mary Wesninski’s alive?”

“For now,” Andrew clarifiedas he broke off a piece of the donut.

“But-“ Kevin’s hands shook as heset the mug on the counter, his expression taking on an interesting shade ofash as he wrapped his arms around his chest as if he was cold. “But she’salive! He has his mother back,” he argued in an oddly wistful tone.

“No, he doesn’t,” Andrew insistedwith a slight frown. “He has an abusive, manipulative bitch trying to worm herway back in his life and take him away from here.” He paused to throw the pieceof pastry into his mouth while Kevin’s mouth gaped open. “That means you loseyour precious striker and the Foxes’ their new vice-captain. Do you want that?”

“No,” Kevin responded in a quietvoice. “But what does Neil want?”

“He wants to stay here.” Andrewput the odd flutter in his chest down to a sudden sugar rush. “Not be draggedaway by someone who treats him like shit for daring to think for himself.”

Kevin winced upon hearing that andseemed to remember that he’d spilled coffee all over the floor since he reachedover to grab some paper towels. “She did that to him? Really?”

“Yes.” Which was why her ‘alive’status would soon be revoked. “I suggest you have your usual disgusting deadchicken embryo shake and then toddle off to Daddy’s to spend the day thinkingup new ways to annoy us for the season.” It would be best if Kevin was out ofthe way and under Wymack’s supervision while Andrew and Renee (and he supposedStuart) handled Mary.

“Why Neil puts up with you, I don’tfucking know,” Kevin muttered as he threw the coffee-soaked towels away.

“Because I’m a keeper,” Andrewinsisted as he debated which donut to eat next.

Kevin’s next words were mutteredin Japanese, which was the only reason he didn’t get a half-empty mug of coffeethrown at him – that and he listened to Andrew and fixed himself a nauseatingbreakfast shake before stomping off to get ready for the day.

Once Kevin was gone (and most ofthe donuts as well), Andrew returned to the bedroom and lay down next to hisboyfriend, who stirred a little at first but settled once Andrew whispered hisname and gave a gentle squeeze to the back of his neck. Neil tucked against hischest and phone beneath the pillow, Andrew looked forward to a short nap.

He was dreaming about him and Neilback in Racine, about the small apartment and the longing which hadfilled him (had filled Aidan) when he’d believed Neil to forever be out of reachwhen the sound of Neil’s phone ringing jolted him awake; he barely avoidedNeil’s head smacking him in the chin as his boyfriend fumbled for the devicewhile he rubbed the sleep from his eyes.

“Ah, Stuart?” Neil said, his voicestill thick with sleep; his face appeared even worse than earlier, now that thebruises had time to properly ‘develop’. “Okay, do you need… okay. I’ll- okay.”Now he took to frowning. “Someone will let you in.”

“I’ll send Renee down to fetch the limey prick,” Andrewoffered as he fetched his own phone, only to do some frowning of his own whenhe noticed the texts from her. “Let your uncle know that there’s been an old Forddriving around the campus.”

“Yeah, that’s what she was driving. Ow.” Neil glared at him,probably for the jab in his left side. “What?”

“You couldn’t mention that earlier?”

“You didn’t ask,” the idiot mumbled before he returned hisattention to his phone. “I know to be careful. Why do you want to talk to him?I can take care of myself! Oh fine, treat me like a child,” Neil spat before hetossed the phone to Andrew, who just managed to not say anything rightthen.

“Keep him away from Mary,” Stuart ordered before Andrew couldsay anything. “And no killing her.”

“Do you want to see what he looks like now?” Andrew ignoredthe middle finger Neil directed his way. “I’m not giving her another chance tohurt him.”

“She’s not going to get it,” Stuart promised. “I’ll deal withher, so you do your damn job and keep Nathaniel safe.”

“Hmm, maybe I’ll tie him up in bed, that’ll keep him out ofthe way,” Andrew drawled he batted Neil’s hand aside. “So much fun for me.”

“I will kill you both,” his boyfriend gritted out whileStuart made that oh-so-amusing grinding sound.

“Just so you know, I don’t give a shit if she kills you,you damn runt,” the prick managed to spit out after a couple of seconds. “Infact, it’ll make my day.”

“That’s it, you’re no longer invited to the wedding,” Andrewtaunted before he hung up, right as Stuart began a garbled stream of something.Probably some comments on how wonderful Andrew was and how he so looked forwardto them officially being family.

“I hate you, I really hate you,” Neil mumbled as he gave upon trying to take back his phone and rested his forehead on Andrew’s left shoulderinstead. “Do you have any idea how difficult he’s going to be to deal with fromnow on? If I hear him bring up the ‘C’ word again, I’m going to tell Kevin thatyou offered to train with the newbies, I swear it.”

Andrew gave a light tug to Neil’s still tangled hair at boththreats before he rubbed his lover’s nape. “Stuart adores me.” The man hadn’t threatenedto kill him in months.

Neil made a gurgling sound in the back of his throat whilehe gripped Andrew’s t-shirt between his hands. “Did you hit your head while Iwas asleep?” He leaned back enough to look up at Andrew, his gaze intentdespite his slightly swollen left eye. “Do I need to call Abby and have hercheck you out?”

“Funny.” He leaned in for a quick kiss then pushed Neilaway. “Put on some clothes, we’re about to have company.”

While his grumbling idiot went off to the bathroom, Andrew textedRenee to let her know that Stuart would be there soon, and frowned at themessage that she’d warned the Foxes to ‘watch themselves’ because of Mary; thelast thing he needed was a bunch of busybodies butting in because they wereworried about their ‘darling’ Neil.

Case in point – the rather gibberish text from Nicky whichseemed to be a declaration of help, if he needed any, and Boyd’s offer of touse his truck for ‘disposal’.

He’d just pulled on a clean pair of jeans and a shirt whenthere was knock on the front door; surprised that Stuart had gotten there soquickly, Andrew left the bedroom, quick to shove Neil behind him when his idiotboyfriend attempted to answer the door.

“What? You’re paranoid,” Neil said with a roll of his eyeswhen Andrew gave him a flat look for his lack of survival skills.

“And you invite people to kill you on a regular basis, so stayback,” Andrew reminded him.

“Whatever.” Neil followed, at least dressed in thesweatpants he’d taken with him into the bathroom, an eager expression on hisbruised face as if he was happy to see Stuart for some reason. Andrew bracedhimself for some disgusting fussing from the British man over his nephew andthen to be bitched at because of what Mary had done before he opened the door…and found a strange woman with dark hair and a surly expression out in thehallway with a blank-faced Renee all but pressed against her back.

Between the dark gleam which spoke of ‘Natalie’ in Renee’seyes and Neil’s sharp inhale (that and the way the petite woman glaredfigurative daggers at him), Andrew went out on the limb as he stepped aside(with Neil all but shoved against the wall). “Is it my birthday already? Tothink all I got you was that ‘how to leave a cult’ book; I’ll have to up mygame next time, especially if you help me bury her body since a certain someonebitches so much about a little honest work.”

While Neil choked out his name, Renee gave Mary a pushforward (knife in the small of the back? Andrew so approved, especially if itwas buried in her kidney). “She stole Sheena’s ID when her and Jack ran out forbrunch,” Renee explained. “When the two came back complaining, I checked theTower and found her sneaking around.”

“See, I would have made it a quick death if you’d killed thosetwo,” Andrew said as he pushed Neil behind him. “Stay the fuck away from her,”he told his boyfriend in German. “I’ll snap her neck and lock you in thebathroom for the next month’s practices if you get within reach of her.”

“Uhm… she knows that language,” Neil reminded him as heslumped against the wall, his attention torn between Andrew and his mother,hands wrapped around his waist as if to keep himself from reaching foranything; Andrew grabbed his right one and tugged it toward the hem of his t-shirt,which earned him a grateful smile when Neil latched on to it for reassurance.

Meanwhile, Mary made an abortive motion as if she attemptedto lunge forward, only to be stopped by Renee. “I’ll rip out your heart with mybare hands if you touch him,” she threatened with a baleful glare beforelooking at Neil, her British accent the same as the times when Neil got drunkor was alone with Andrew. “And really, Abram? You let this wanker treat youlike that? I thought I raised you better.”

Neil scowled at his mother while he tugged Andrew closer. “Andrew’sconcerned about me, considering within five minutes of seeing you again, I looklike this,” he motioned at his face with his left hand. “You don’t know him atall, what he’s done for me.”

“He’s a controlling-“

“No.” Neil didn’t give Mary a chance to spew herhatred, nor did Renee, judging from the small grunt of pain which emanated fromthe crazy bitch a moment later. “You haven’t been around the last few years, hehas, and he’s largely the reason I’m still alive,” Neil let her know whileAndrew pondered where would be the best place to kill the bitch – in thebasement or offsite somewhere? “He’s fought for me, killed for me, even, and helistens to me. We’re equals.”

“He only makes you think you’re equals,” Mary argued,proving the whole ‘not listening thing’ to everyone in the room. “I know histype, know how he’ll make you think he’s there for you when all he’s doing istricking you into- I will rip your heart out too, you fucking slag,” shesnarled when it seemed that a certain good Christian girl had run out ofpatience.

“I told you Andrew isn’t like that, and so has your son.Just because it’s not what you want to hear, doesn’t make it untrue,” Reneesaid with a hint of exasperation. “Just accept that Neil is happy here withsomeone who loves and respects him.”

“She’s never going to do that,” Andrew stated as he slippeda knife free from his left armband. “She fucked up her life and did her best toruin Neil’s, she’s not going to accept that he managed to get it on track onceshe was out of the way.”

“Andrew,” Neil whispered with a wince, but he didn’t arguewith the statement. “Mum, I’m so happy that you’re alive, but you can’t comehere, threaten Andrew and my friends, and expect me to run away with you when I’vea life here.”

“You shouldn’t be here, you never should have stoppedrunning, never should have picked up a damn Exy racquet again,” Mary mutteredas she glared at her son. “Was it his idea?”

“Guilty as charged,” Andrew drawled as he flipped the knifeinto the air. “Running wasn’t doing him any good, and for some reason, we didn’tknow about the whole ‘sold to the Moriyamas to play their stupid game’ thing sowhy not join the local Exy team, hmm?” He did some glaring of his own when Marytwitched a little at the accusation. “Don’t go trying to cast blame on Neil orme, not when so much trouble could have been avoided if you’d just have toldhim why the hell you were on the run.” Well, other than the fact that she’d marrieda psychotic bastard.

“I told him not to play Exy,” Mary muttered. “Thatshould have been good enough.”

“You also told him you were dying, so your word is obviouslyshit,” Andrew shot back.

“I will take so much pleasure in shooting you,” Mary grittedout, which prompted a cold smile from Andrew. “Abram, you need to-“

Whatever ultimatum she was about to pull, it was interruptedby a knock on the door; Andrew swore if it was Nicky coming over because he wasbored or one of the newbies looking for Neil, he was going to start on thestabbing someone sooner than expected.

It was Stuart; Andrew nearly went through with the wholestabbing thing after all, but the bastard slipped into the dorm room during theminor internal debate and so Andrew missed that important stabbing window.

“Uncle Stuart!” Neil called out while the man took toswearing beneath his breath. “Did someone let you in?”

Stuart waved what looked to be a generic ID in his left handbefore he shoved it into the pocket of his grey sports coat, which he wore overa pair of jeans and a white dress shirt. “I, ah, managed something, and fuckme, Mary.” He gawked at his sister while she gazed back at him. “It’sreally you.”

“It’s about time you showed up, Stu. Deal with this uppityslag while I tend to Minyard, will you?” Mary snapped while Andrew went back toNeil’s side.

Stuart cast an apologetic look Renee’s way, who gave him oneof her blissful smiles in return. “Walker, would you mind backing off a little?”

“That’s not what I-“

“Of course,” Renee said over Mary’s complaints, quick toslide the knife up the sleeve of her PSU sweatshirt as she stepped away. “Ihave her gun.”

“I’ll take that before we leave.” Stuart was quick to yankMary, who’d turned as if to fight with Renee for the weapon, toward him. “Calmthe hell down, will you?”

“I’m gonna beat some manners into this daft bitch,” Marysnarled as she swiped at a faintly smiling Renee.

“No, you’re not – I told you that Neil had people watchingover him, and she’s one of them. Now, unless you truly do want to be dead, calmthe hell down,” Stuart gritted out as he shoved his sister away. “And tell mewhy you thought it was a good idea to show up here, smack the shit out of yourown child and attempt to kidnap him.”

Neil shifted about as if uncomfortable at seeing his motherput on the spot like that, but Andrew grasped his right hand while he shook hishead. “That was truth, right now,” he said in his limited Russian.

“I know,” Neil agreed, his expression a bit guiltyyet he sidled closer to Andrew as he entwined their fingers together.

“I came here to save him,” Mary said, her voice tight withanger. “To take him away so the Moriyamas can’t hurt him.”

“For fuck’s sake,” Stuart started, a pained expression onhis face. “He’s perfectly fine here. You’re gonna get him killed if you takehim away.”

“Yeah, Mum,” Neil called out. “I made a deal with the mainbranch years ago, everything’s settled now. As long as I play Exy for a decentteam and they make money from it, they leave me alone.” A bit of asimplification, but that was all Mary really needed to know.

Mary whirled around to face Neil and would have come closerif not for the knife Andrew waved in her direction. “You made a deal with them?With a bunch of mobsters? I didn’t want that for you, Abram, I wanted-“

“What?” Neil asked, his voice harsh and expressioncold. “For me to keep running until Dad’s people found me and killed me?” Sheflinched at that but didn’t look away. “Until one of Tetsuji’s people trackedme down and dragged me back to Edgar Allan?” He tugged at the collar of the t-shirthe wore to expose more of the damn tattoo on the left side of his neck andshoulder. “I spent two weeks there and it was enough of a hell to last alifetime, thanks, I can’t imagine what it would like to be there for years.Only the fact that I belonged to the main branch and not the side one ensuredthat I walked out of there in the end.” His fingers clenched around Andrew’shand as he spoke, as he no doubt remembered all the things Riko had done to himover that one Christmas break. “This might not be the life you wanted for me,but it’s the one I chose for myself and I’m happy. I don’t give a damn if youdon’t like it, and I’m not letting you or anyone else take it away from me.”

“And I didn’t nearly die so you could so be some Moriyamaproperty,” Mary argued, as if she hadn’t listened to her son at all. “I didn’tgive up-“

“Shut up,” Andrew said as he tugged Neil closer, morebehind him since the woman had a disturbing gleam in her light brown eyes(contacts) which he’d seen too many times in Riko’s to want Neil to be nearsuch mental instability. “Neil’s no longer paying for your poor life choices.He told you ‘no’, now respect it and fuck off.”

“He’s my son, you shitty bastard,” Mary growled as her handsclenched into fists and Stuart’s right hand inched toward the front of hiscoat.

“Big deal,” Andrew said with all the scorn he felt for thewoman. “Just because you gave birth to him doesn’t mean you can control himforever, especially now that he’s an adult. It certainly doesn’t mean you canbeat the shit out of him. You fucked up when you came here making ultimatumsand raised your hand to him, so go away.” Neil shifted about but didn’targue, didn’t plead for his mother to stay, while Renee focused her attentionon Mary as if waiting to see if she would need to intervene in some manner.

Before Mary could say anything else, Stuart shoved his waybetween the two of them. “As much fun as it is to see the two of you go at eachother, I’ve a feeling this will just drag on all day and I don’t have the time.”

“So shoot the two of them and let’s go,” Mary muttered asshe folded her arms over her chest.

“No,” Stuart gritted out through clenched teeth as hegave his sister one hell of an annoyed look. “Shut up and listen for once inyour damn life, Mary,” he snapped, much to the woman’s obvious surprise. “Ikeep telling you, take Nathaniel away and it’ll only fuck things up for all ofus because Ichirou Moriyama will see it as a challenge to his authority. He won’tstop until the both of you are found and killed in a very messy manner to senda message to everyone, and he won’t stop with the two of you as he makes sure thatmessage is heard loud and clear.” Stuart motioned to himself, Andrew and Renee.

“And yet you work for the man,” Mary sneered, though Andrewthought it lacked some of her usual vigor.

“Yeah, because it allowed the family a foothold in theStates and it finally allowed us a shot at your bastard husband,” Stuart rubbedin her face without remorse. “While you in that coma and then down in Mexico, ableto live your life without remembering all this shite, your family had to dealwith it.” He motioned to himself again then Neil. “We did the best we couldwith what options we had, and now I’m not going to let you fuck things upbecause you don’t like how that turned up, even if you are my sister.”

“So what, you’re gonna take me somewhere and put a bullet inmy head? You could do that to me?” Mary taunted her brother with growingdesperation. “Abram, you going to let him do that to your mother?” Her defiancefaltered when it was quiet in the room for several seconds. “Both of you arebastards.”

“Stuart didn’t say he was going to shoot you, Mum,” Neilpointed out with a palpable weariness. “And I love you… but I can’t let youhurt Andrew and the others. Go with Uncle Stuart,” he pleaded.

“I’m not going to shoot you,” Stuart assured his sister ashe rubbed the back of his neck, just as worn down as Neil by arguing with thewoman. “At least, not in the head, so don’t try my patience anymore than youalready have,” he warned her. “We’re going to leave here before you cause anymore trouble and head back home. Will wants to see you.”

Mary twitched at that as if not pleased with the thought offacing her big brother. “Do I have any say in this?”

Something cold settled on Stuart’s face. “After you hurt Nathaniel?No, not really. I love you, Mary, and I’m glad you’re alive, but right now I’mhalf-tempted to leave you with Andrew, which might solve a good bit of problemsin the end. But you are my sister so here’s your chance – come with me now, nomore fighting.”

“He’s just a kid,” Mary said with the sneer back on her faceas she glanced at Andrew. “I can handle him and the slag, now that I’m preparedfor them.”

“No, you can’t. You honestly think I’d leave familyunprotected, after everything that’s happened with you and that prick,Wesninski?” Something in Stuart’s voice or expression made Mary’s certaintycrumble after a couple of seconds.

Still, she tried one more time; she turned toward Neil, herexpression stern. “I came back for you, boy. You’re going to let him take meaway after everything I did for you?”

Neil’s fingers tightened around Andrew’s once more as his bruisedface grew blank. “I think it’s best that you go, Mum. I know you tried to lookout for me,” both of them ignored Andrew’s derisive snort, “but I’m good now.Let Uncle Will help you out.”

Something almost soft started to come over Mary’s face for amoment, and then it hardened. “Don’t come crying to me when this one breaksyour heart,” she told Neil.

“It won’t happen,” Neil assured her. “Be safe, Mum. Safe andhappy.”

“You’re a fool, Abram.” Mary turned her back toward Neil andtold Stuart that she was ready to leave, that there wasn’t anything holding herthere anymore.

Stuart gave his sister a furious look before he came over togive Neil a quick hug. “I’ll visit when I’m back,” he promised his nephew. “Takecare until then.” While a somber Neil nodded, he gave Andrew a stern look. “Watchover him.”

“Go away,” Andrew said while he made a shooing motion withhis right hand, the knife still held in it. “You’re an asshole, you won’t evenlet me stab her once.”

“Such a little shit,” Stuart muttered as he held up twofingers in a rude gesture before he finally left with Mary (after retrievingthe gun from a quiet Renee). Once the door was closed behind them, Renee cameover to give Neil a sympathetic rub on the back.

“I’m sorry, that had to be difficult,” she soothed.

“I just… I wish she would have listened to me,” Neil said asAndrew let go of his hand so he could put the knife away then gently grasp hisboyfriend’s nape. “What’s the point of getting her back when she doesn’t even seeme? I’m just… just an object to her?”

There were times when Andrew grew frustrated with how Neilexcused the abuse his mother had inflicted upon him over the years, how he overlookedthe fact that she’d waited too long to leave his abusive, psychotic father. Itwasn’t that Neil pretended none of it had ever happened or that everything hadbeen fine, it was just that compared to the other monsters in his life (Nathan,Lola, Riko)… Mary had been the one who’d tried to help him in her own fucked-upway, had hurt him the least (but still hurt him).

Had seemed to give up her life for him.

So Neil had… glossed over, in a way, the abuse he’d sufferedat her hands because she hadn’t wanted him dead (had helped keep him alive),hadn’t sold him to another person, hadn’t taken sadistic pleasure in hurtinghim. However, Andrew thought that his lover might not be so willing to defendthe woman after today.

“I don’t know her, but I think the problem is she feels sheknows what’s best for you and is determined to see it through. Her intentionsare good… but she’s sadly misinformed,” Renee offered with a kind smile. “Itdoesn’t make what she’s doing right, though. Hopefully your uncles can help herunderstand things better so you can start anew one day.”

“Maybe, but my mother’s really stubborn. I think in her mindshe gave up so much for me yet I broke her rules.” Neil’s expression becamemulish as he gazed at Andrew. “I don’t care if she feels it’s wrong, I’m happynow which is all that matters. Maybe it’s best if she just finds her own life now,too. At least I know she’s alive out there somewhere and isn’t dead because ofme.”

“Especially if she thinks it’s acceptable to smack youaround whenever she wants. I really will kill her if she touches you again,”Andrew promised, unwilling to allow anyone to hurt his lover.

Neil winced at that statement but didn’t argue, while Reneesmiled. “I did make some scones, how about I bring them over later?” When theyboth nodded, her smile deepened. “Good. I’ll see you in a little bit.” Shewaved to them before leaving.

“So much for a nice, quiet weekend,” Neil groaned as he wentto sit down on the couch; he raised his hands to his face before he rememberedwhy that wasn’t a good idea.

“Well, I highly doubt anyone else is going to come back fromthe dead in the next forty-eight hours, so we should be good on that front,”Andrew drawled as he went to sit down next to his lover, oddly drained for somereason; it might be good to eat something soon.

Neil’s lips twitched for a couple of seconds before hesmiled. “I’ll laugh if you managed to jinx us right now, you know.” Then the expressionfaded away as he tilted his head back to rest on the back of the couch. “Excepteveryone we know who’s dead are basically psychotic assholes so….”

Andrew thought about that while he tugged on the end of hisleft armband. “Ah… Seth?”

His boyfriend always looked cute when he wrinkled his noselike that. “Okay, not so much psychotic but very much an asshole, I’ll give youthat. You really want him to come back?”

“Hell no.”

“I thought not. One exception to the rule, and not a pleasantone at that.”

“I don’t know, might be fun to kill Riko again,” Andrewmused. “Always thought his death was a bit too quick.” There should have beenmore broken bones and flayed skin involved, in his opinion.

“Oh sure, you get to have all the fun and I’m stuck diggingthe grave, I’m willing to bet,” Neil whined as he entwined their fingerstogether, a sure sign that he was recovering from the whole ‘Mary’ ordeal.

“Is it me or are you becoming lazier the older you get?”Andrew asked as he rubbed his thumb along Neil’s hand.

“Says the guy who skips out on the grave digging,” Neilgrumbled while he slumped down enough to rest his head against Andrew’sshoulder.

“Just have one of the newbies do it, vice-captain. Tell ‘emit’s a cardio exercise or something.”

“Hmm.” Neil grew contemplative at the suggestion. “Hmm, thathas possibilities.”

One problem solved for the time being, Andrew enjoyed thequiet moment while it lasted (before Aaron and Nicky barged in to make surethat everything was okay, or the upperclassmen pestered them to see Neil, or something).He could only be so lucky to have another shot at Riko, but at least there wasa plan in place if it happened.

Until then, enjoy the time alone with Neil, who was going tobuy him some take-out for making up for the whole ‘no stabbing’ thing.

Or maybe not, as there was a knock on the door.

*******