Page 48
Before, when Tink was still Tink, a guy, a man, he’d have just lashed right back. Snapped at him, maybe gotten in his face right back. Gotten physical. But now it’s different. Like he doesn’t know how to compute being dressed down by a woman who isn’t a Mermaid, or in a way that’s not a smack to the face. An information overload, competing signals scrambling the motherboard. Finally, the mix of emotions on his face settles on a direction, and it’s amusement.
He cracks a smile, and immediately, even I know it’s the wrong move.
“Aw, why the hostility?” he asks. “What’d I ever do to you?”
Christ, Pan, I think. He’s giving her every opening.
“Nothing.” She laughs, bright and cold. “Nothing, actually! Isn’t that funny?” Another laugh. She rocks back down on her heels and folds her arms, not defensive, but casual. Comfortable. “God, it’s like, for the longest time, I gave you so much credit for taking me in. For saving me. But you know who actually saved me?” She shakes her head emphatically and slams a palm to her chest. “Me. I did. I got myself here. I learned the ropes faster than anyone in this whole crew, and you know it. I kept up that fucking disguise for months, and your dumb ass never even suspected I was a girl.” Another laugh. “And I’m pretty sure—no, I know—that I saved your ass more than you ever saved mine.”
There’s a tremble in her voice now, slight, faint, but somehow it only makes her seem more resolute.
And I can’t help it. I’m in awe.
She is fearsome, fierce, all force and fury, cheeks and lips flushed from alcohol and emotion and eyes electric. I can see the focus coiling in every part of her, can practically feel the pulse at the pale skin of her neck, the breath speeding through her chest, and I feel my own blood beat harder just taking her in.
Because watching her, witnessing this, turns something on deep inside of me. Sexually—maybe, yes, but deeper than that. She activates me. Demands my attention with the force of a magnet, of a tide, of gravity. The way that, despite it all, despite having every right to scream or claw at him or burst into raging tears, she’s smart enough to restrain herself, not to fall to pieces or get swept to sea by the current of emotion—to refuse to give him the satisfaction—to stay so contained, so measured, even if it’s just barely…
It’s stunning. She’s stunning.
But if Pan feels it too, it doesn’t show.
His expression is frozen. Blank, bordering on confused. His whole form motionless. Then, all at once, he comes to, swivels on his heel, and spits out words—to me. “Can you believe this?” he stage-whispers.
I stand completely still. Not sure what will happen if I dare to move. “Yes.” Because I can. I absolutely can.
Tink’s eyes flick to mine. Briefly. Then back.
“Hey, hey.” Zuzu’s at her shoulder now, pulling her back. “Let’s not, okay? I will back you up in fighting, but I’m little bit tipsy now and I don’t want to break an ankle.”
Tink brushes Zuzu off—gently—but nods. “Yeah. Fine.”
“That’s the ticket.” Pan smirks, unable to resist. He gestures at the couch. “Go relax, braid each other’s hair or something.”
Stupid, I think. You stupid, idiotic, motherfuck—
Zuzu’s fingers flex on Tink’s shoulder, but Tink just shifts her weight, easy, fluid. And that’s the move, I realize. To be calm and controlled when he’s grasping at straws, flailing. To do the one thing he can never do. Be right. Be smart. Consider the consequences and act accordingly.
“Sure, fine. I’ll relax.” Tink shrugs. “For now. Because you know what I’m gonna do tomorrow?” Her smile is pleasant, cool. Fully in control. “I’m gonna go to that casino, I’m gonna find the son of a bitch who took away that kid’s family, and I’m going to make him pay.”
Pan laughs. “Oh, really? You just magically know who killed them, now? You’ve figured all that out? Great work, Sherlock Homes.”
Holmes, I think. Idiot.
Tink either doesn’t notice or doesn’t care. “Sure have.” She cocks her head. “What, like it’s hard?” And before Pan can respond, her smirk returns. “Shouldn’t you be out making all that money you need?” She pauses. “Unless you need my help with that, too.”
Pan scowls, and for a moment I worry he’s going to do something. Scream at her, spit on her, slap her.
“Yeah,” he says. “Yeah, as a matter of fact, I should.”
He breathes out hard, squares his shoulders, and stalks off for the spiral stairs. Getting some space, I imagine. Going to sulk downstairs.
Zuzu drops her head on Tink’s shoulder and stares at me. So, too, does Tink.
“You need something, Blue?” she asks.
“I…”
From below, I hear jingle of the shop bell. The slam of the door. And I realize—
