She’d never outright told him anything. But she’d never had to. He knew. Dames like her didn’t hunt down an addiction lessin there was a damn good reason, and she’d sure as fuck hunted it down. He’d watched her do it, from the first time she showed up in Downside. Watched her not even fight with herself over it, least not what he could see.
And that was way before he really knew her, back when he’d just paid idle attention to her, kept track of her owes and every once in a while said something to her on them. Before he got to know how tough she were, and how tough she weren’t, too. Before he got to know just from the way them greeny-blue-brown eyes of hers clouded, or her mouth turned down, or she suddenly looked so sad and scared and pissed off at the world, what she was thinking on. Why she felt about herself the way she did. What they’d done to her, all them bullshit foster families or whatany they were.
Seemed like he were the only one who saw it, but he did. He knew. So how could he tell her about what happened to Sue, and watch her smile fade and darkness bloom behind her eyes? Watch her reach for that pillbox in she bag and down a couple? He couldn’t do that to her. He just couldn’t, not if he ain’t had to. Specially not when it seemed like she were in a good mood.
Funny, she had all that ink on her skin to protect her from ghosts and magic, and he were damn sure doing what he could to protect her outside that, but weren’t anything he could do to keep her safe from the memories.
He knew how that felt, too.
Chess studied him. Waiting to see would he say more. But she didn’t reach for her bag, so he breathed a little easier. “He just grabbed her off the corner? Or … ?”
“Lied like him were buyin. Robbed her in the car.” He reached for his smokes and raised his eyebrows at her. She nodded. He lit two and handed her one.
“Any clues?” She dragged off the smoke, her fingers slim and delicate around it, her gestures soft and graceful. “Did she get a description of him or anything?”
“Said had dark hair, but not much past it. Saying them all looking alike, dig, ain’t paid attention.”
She thought about it for a second. Like she always did. That thing in his chest, whatever it were, relaxed more. Chess was smart. She knew all kinds of shit he’d never even be able to imagine, and she thought on things and had opinions like he’d never consider himself. He bet she’d have some good ideas for him.
And if she didn’t? Just chattering on it with her made him feel better. Like he ain’t had to worry on it all on his alones. Like he had somebody besides Bump backing him up.
“Do you think he was just looking for somebody to rob, or something else was going on? Like he’s targeting hookers for some reason?” she asked.
“He ain’t said aught to Sue, like any on bein dirty, if you dig. Whores get attacked just for bein whores, usually they hearing that kind of shit.”
Shit. He shouldn’t have said that. What the fuck was wrong with him, how fucking dumb could he be?
“Yeah,” she said. Her eyes darkened. “I guess they do.”
Maybe he could change the subject. Or move it on, or whatany. He spent too long thinking of something else to say, then finally came up with one. “Got you plans for the new year? Heading out anywheres?”
Her expression cleared, and he felt better. Some. Trouble was, every fucking time he saw that look in her eyes, every fucking time he saw her frown like that, it got harder and harder not to tell her to write down a list of names for him. Every single name she had a recall on, causen he wanted to hunt em all down one by one and make sure they knew why as they died. He honestly couldn’t think of much he’d like more.
“Not really,” she said, obviously not knowing he sat next to her planning bloody revenge on everyone who’d ever so much as looked at her sideways, much less hurt her. “I think the Runouts are playing at Chuck’s, right? I might go. You?”
“Be a fight on. Figured on watching it. Maybe head Chuck’s on the after, aye.”
But he wouldn’t. Because Amy’d be at his place, and iffen he took her out after the fight he wouldn’t want to take her anywheres Chess was. Amy ain’t exactly liked Chess; the few times they’d been out somewheres and Chess showed up Amy’d wanted to leave right away. She’d been real casual on it, made up some other reason for taking off, but it ain’t been hard to catch that as soon as Chess walked in Amy wanted to walk out.
Weren’t hard to figure out why, neither, or that it was his fault. He knew that when Chess were around he looked at her, watched her for too long. He knew he kept glancing at her. He knew his eyes followed her when she moved, and that they ain’t stayed on her face neither. He couldn’t help it, no matter how much he wanted to.
“Boxing?”
He nodded.
She did that considering thing again, and his neck got warm. He could see it on her face, in her eyes, that look that made him feel like she saw right through him and pegged him to the wall. “You ever think of doing that? Like, prizefighting.”
He shrugged, trying to think of a way to answer, trying not to be uncomfortable. Not causen the question were a wrong one, but causen he ain’t wanted to think on it. On what happened. Ain’t wanted to recall how aye, he had thought on it. More than thought.
Funny thing was, though … he’d tell her, iffen the discussion went that far. He’d never told anybody; well, Bump knew, coursen, but nobody else. But Chess would understand. Chess he’d tell. Iffen it came down to it.
He ain’t wanted it to, though, leastaways not just then. She’d heard enough shitty stories. So he tried to think of a way to say it that wouldn’t be a lie but wouldn’t be opening it up, neither. “Thought on it, aye. When I were a kid. Only … met up with Bump, dig, he find me an took me in, an … just stayed.”
He waited for her to ask more, while the memories flashed in his head, harder and sharper because he ain’t had been expecting them. Darren who said he were a fight promoter. Darren’s huge house filled with expensive shit, the big gym, all Darren’s friends—powerful friends, connected friends—coming to meet him and telling him how he were gonna fight for real, in a ring.
And all of it a lie. And Darren climbing into his bed that night, and the next thing he knew there was blood everywhere, a bloody knife in his hand, and Darren were dead. Then running and hiding, knowing those friends was after him, hearing they was offering money for his head.
Bump found him first. He’d never looked back.
He felt Chess’s curiosity. He also felt her caution. Aye, she knew there were more than what he were saying. Question was whether she’d ask on it.
She didn’t. Instead she said, in the kind of light tone that meant she knew something were up but were letting him decide iffen he wanted to chatter on it, “Lucky for all the rest of them you like working with Bump better.”
Heat crept farther over his neck, up his cheeks. “More happening, aye?”
“And not so many rules?” She were smiling when she said it, though. Like she even accepted that, like it ain’t bothered her none.
Which meant he could agree, and admit it, without feeling like shit. “Aye. Ain’t much for those. An ain’t wanting all the shit goes with it, anyroad. Havin pictures taken an all.”
“Yeah. I wouldn’t want to do that, either.” She tilted her head. Her hair fell over her shoulder. He wanted to reach out and brush it back, let it slip through his fingers. Her hair was really fucking soft. He remembered that, remembered it so hard sometimes—the way it had felt, the way she’d felt, her hands on him—he thought he were gonna pass out. Probably because when he remembered it all the blood left his head and went somewheres else. “No privacy at all.”
Aye, he knew that about her. Funny thing was, he doubted she realized, or thought on, the fact that she ain’t had much privacy anyway. Everybody knew she were Bump’s witch now. Everybody knew she were his friend. Everybody knew who she were, was the point. And Bump’s people watched to make certain she were safe, causen he told em to.