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He couldn’t be teased, because I had called him so many variants of ‘Dad’ over the last four years, it didn’t land anymore. “Look, I can’t understand what you’ve been through. I get that you’re completely damaged on the inside. The fact that you’re not in some sort of mental institution or heroin recovery program right now is a testament in itself. Most people who have had your history would have been broken. But you aren’t. That being said, you have people in this world who care about you, and for the sake of them, you should really try a little harder to be a functional person. If for no other reason, then just so Zach can point at you and assure his clients that it can be done.”
“Oh, another ‘Think of the children!’ scolding.” I nodded with understanding.
He frowned. “This isn’t just a ‘Think of the children’. This is a ‘Think of your brother’ one. He worries about you, and if the treatment doesn’t work like we hope it will—” He stopped talking there, and I quickly realized that was because he couldn’t. He opened and closed his mouth before croaking, “He wants you to be in an okay spot.”
I really wanted to divert this conversation. I didn’t like to think about Zach dying. As soon as I got into that mind-fuck of an idea, it messed up my whole day. “Look, I am in a good spot. You can settle it down.”
“You’re not in a good spot! You can’t show up for work on time, you have a criminal record that most hookers would be embarrassed by, you have a weird sexuality that can’t be explained by modern science, and you live in your apartment like you’re a human-sized packrat. You can’t survive on your own! You’re constantly calling us from the bar at 2 AM needing a ride, and?—”
I put up my hand so that he couldn’t think of more things. “I can survive on my own! If you don’t want to pick me up, fine. I’ll get an Uber.”
“You can’t get an Uber. You get so drunk that you can’t tie your shoes, let alone navigate an app! You have in no way demonstrated that you can take care of yourself. I need you to work on that.”
I sat back, looking and feeling guilty and beginning to see his point. There was quiet in the room while I pouted and he stared at me, obviously subtly waiting to see if any of his words were landing.
“Okay,” I finally groaned, picking at a piece of invisible fuzz on my coat. “I see what you mean. I’ll try to change myself so that I become more boring and predictable.”
“Thank you,” he sighed. “That’s all I ask. Now, try not to give anyone a hand-job on the way home.” He waved at the door in dismissal. “Try to behave tomorrow and don’t do anything weird that will fuck up your investigation with Dagon.”
I gave Ryan a thumbs-up, inwardly feeling that I’d had a very rough fifteen minutes at the office. “Alright. Take it easy, Grumps.”
CHAPTER 6
Caspian
I looked up at the ceiling, refusing to leave the bed for much longer than I was proud of.
Bed was my happiest time, especially now that my balls were empty enough that I could relax for a moment and think of something other than sex.
I lay motionless, knowing that my familiar, Miles, was probably listening for the sounds of me rustling around. If he came in, he’d open up the curtains, and I’d have to actually get out of bed.
It was awful that I couldn’t sleep in. I remembered that as a small child, I was able to sleep in until long after the sun was up. As a child, I had eaten, slept, and played, in that order, over and over again. And then the moment I had announced that I was no longer a child, I happened to get sucked into this shitty, inescapable hellscape of a world that I was still imprisoned in.
Every day was the same. Every year was the same. Over and over, I had to worm my way through it all, like Sisyphus pushing the boulder up the hill, only to have it roll backwards and flatten him. And like Sisyphus, the only thing that kept me going was the hope that I’d figure out how to get home.
It had been a long time, however, since the time when I’d used to wake up and hope that ‘today was the day’ I’d figure it all out.
I was probably just going to have to deal with more bullshit.
I rolled over and pulled a pillow over my head when Miles finally came in to open up my curtains, and I grumbled threateningly, “One of these days I’m just going to eat you and put you out of your misery.” I had made similar threats since around 1917, when I had first employed him. My presence was slowing his aging process dramatically; he looked to be only in his late forties, but his face looked more exhausted by my threats than intimidated.
“Yes, yes,” Miles hummed, checking his watch. “It’s not like you’d feel better if I just let you sleep in all day long. If it did, I’d let you do it occasionally. Did you enjoy your company last night?”
The question was really, ‘Do you want me to book that particular escort again in the near future?’ but I liked how he’d asked it.
“She smelled like bacon,” I rumbled bitterly. All bad people smelled delicious. Good people didn’t. The more evil, the more tasty. I hadn’t eaten anyone in years, but it seemed like more and more people were making my mouth water.
“So have the last twenty,” Miles reminded. “Except one that smelled like…”
“Steak,” I recalled succinctly, finally pulling the pillow off my head and beginning to sit up so that Miles could hand me my coffee. “It makes me worry about this generation,” I told him. “People are better at fucking than they are at being people.”
“They’re escorts. Remember how we talked about sample pools? This isn’t exactly a broad sampling now, is it? Maybe you’ll meet someone that makes you gag, and your faith in humanity will be restored.”
I snorted, but I was always a little surprised at how accepting Miles was of what I was. Sure, I had made him live a long life, but it seemed more than that. I always imagined that as a little boy, Miles had really wanted a dragon for a pet, and then coming to work for me made him feel like he was just living his dream.
“What’s on the schedule for today?” I asked, again feeling like Sisyphus probably had in the morning as he stretched out his body before pushing the boulder up the hill once more.
“Meeting with merger and acquisitions, and then you come home and get ready to go to that art gala. Before you do that, you have an interview with?—”
