“No.”

“What do you mean, no?”

“I mean no, that’s what I mean. Or here, how about this? Absolutely not. No fucking way. That’s completely out of the question. Now, I can’t be one hundred percent sure, but I have a feeling that one of those must have made an impression and delivered its intended message, you know? I mean, surely, right?”

Clara sighed and did her best to steel herself for whatever it was that was about to come. She’d gotten what must certainly have been the best night’s sleep of her recent days and had awoken to a morning that finally didn’t feel completely hopeless. She’d lain in bed for a long, long time, savoring the feeling of restfulness and then gradually becoming aware of the fact that she knew the thing she was sure she needed to do next. It should have been a good thing, this new found knowing, and in some ways, it was, but in others? In others, having this newly formed plan taking root inside of her head was only another kind of burden. Because she knew without even speaking a word what Weston was going to think of it, and it wasn’t going to be good to say the least. She’d laid in bed and considered all of her options, even considered putting her plan into action without ever telling Weston (or at least without telling him until it was done), but in the end she knew there was only one way to go. With this in mind she’d taken a shower, one that was a good deal longer than it actually needed to be, and then emerged from her cave of a room in order to inform Weston of her intentions. When she’d found him sitting at his massive kitchen island with a cup of coffee and a novel she’d never heard of before, she almost lost her resolve. It would have been a hell of a lot easier to just blow the whole thing off and join him, that was for sure, and easy didn’t necessarily sound like a bad thing. Instead she’d told him, just as she’d planned, and she found that his reaction was at least as bad as she’d anticipated it would be, if not worse. The novel and the cup of coffee were forgotten, and he was frowning at her in a way that would probably have been comical if it hadn’t also been so unnerving. The thing about it was, he wasn’t just a little bit angry. The more closely she looked at him, the more she could see that he was well past that and on the way to downright furious.

“Are you just addicted to the trouble now, Clara? Is that it?” he asked this through a jaw so tightly clenched that she could see the veins in his neck popping out. “Because I gotta tell you, if that’s the case you might as well go ahead and let me know right now. I’m not in the habit of trying to play superhero for girls with that kind of complex.”

“Woah! Hold on,” she cried, knowing that getting defensive wasn’t going to help anything and immediately becoming that way anyway. “That’s totally unfair! Also, I’m not sure I even know what you mean.”

“You don’t know what I mean? Are you kidding me right now?”

“No,” she spat back, hands on her hips now and really ready to get into the fight. “I’m not. Sorry if that disappoints you, but by all means, please continue to be condescending about it. Women always love it when guys talk down to you, you know.”

“Fine!” He roared, loudly enough that she had to make a conscious effort not to flinch and then go running back to what was now supposed to be her room. “I will! I try not to make a habit of doing that, either, but since you seem so keen on acting stupid that’s exactly what I’ll do.”

“Don’t call me stupid!”

“Then don’t act that way!”

“So go on then,” she said through angry tears. She would have paid a lot of money not to be crying. “Why don’t you explain it to me? Be the big, strong man and tell me why it’s stupid for me to just go to the source and get it all over with.”

“It has nothing to do with me being a man, Clara, let’s just get that straight right now. I’m not any kind of chauvinist, and I won’t let you make me into one. What I am is a cop, and that gives me a better understanding of this shit that you could ever hope to have.”

“Sure, okay, fine, but—”

“But nothing! You’re seriously telling me you think it’s a good idea to go and see Marlin Grant? In prison?”

“I’m telling you that’s what I’m going to do, yes.”

“And you legitimately don’t see how stupid that is?”

“Stop calling me stupid! It doesn’t help anything, and it’s just mean!”

“Well then stop acting that way! Have you ever stopped to consider that Marlin Grant might not even have anything to do with this?”

“Of course, he does! Ever since this whole thing started, that’s what I’ve been told to do. Go and see Mr. Grant’s brother. He’s the one orchestrating the whole thing.”

“From prison? How the hell do you think he’s making that happen?”

“Please, Weston, now you’re the one acting stupid. Everyone knows that you can still get things done from inside prison, especially when you’ve got a bunch of connections. If anyone has those, it’s a member of the Grant family.”

“So even if he does, so what? Haven’t you ever heard the saying, ‘We don’t negotiate with terrorists’? Because that’s exactly what you would be doing. You would be playing right into his hands and why the hell would you want to do that? You’ll be giving him the upper hand, Clara. You’ll be telling him once and for all that he’s the one in control here. Do you really want to give him that message? Because once you put that out there in the universe, there’s no way for you to take it back. He’ll know and that’s a dangerous thing for a man like that to know.”

“I know that, okay? I’ve thought about it. I’ve been thinking about it all morning.”

“Oh,” he scoffed, rolling his eyes in what was probably his most condescending move yet, “well then please, forgive me. I didn’t realize that you’d spent a whole morning thinking about it. If you’ve spent that long thinking it over, there can’t possibly be any problems with the plan.”

“Fine, whatever you say, Weston. I’m an idiot for doing it. You want to think that, then go ahead and do it. The thing is, there’s nothing you’re going to say that’s going to change my mind. If it means you don’t want me staying here anymore, I’ll understand. Just say the word and I’ll be gone.”

“Is that what this is?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

She honestly didn’t know, or if she did, her brain wasn’t allowing her to acknowledge it. Even so, she could feel her face beginning to turn a hot, bright red, and she found that she could no longer look at Weston in the eyes. He had no right to do this, no right to try and play her psychiatrist, but whether he had a right or not, it appeared that was exactly what he was going to do. He stood up slowly then walked towards her more slowly. By the time he was standing right in front of her, she felt like she might actually hyperventilate with the pressure and stress of it all. When he put one hand underneath her chin, far more delicately than she would have expected given the tone of voice he’d been using with her, she looked up into his eyes. She didn’t want to do it, but she also couldn’t resist it. It felt like she would have a very difficult time resisting much of anything when it came to him.

“Do you think you’re going to find something you can do that will make me kick you out of here?”

“That’s not what I’m doing.”

“And that’s not what I asked.”

“Yes, okay? Of course, there’s something I could do that would make you ask me to leave. It’s not what I’m trying to do, and as far as I’m concerned, it’s a stupid question, but of course, I could do something that would have you asking me to leave. That’s how life works, Weston. You’re a cop. You’ve seen plenty of the world and the way things go. I shouldn’t have to be telling you this. You should just already know.”

“It’s not though. I get that you feel that way, or at least I think I do. I don’t know what it would be like to grow up in an orphanage.”

“This doesn’t have anything to do with that!”

“Fine, maybe it doesn’t. But maybe it does, and so I’m going to finish what I was going to say. I don’t know what it was like for you growing up that way, but I know it probably wasn’t easy and I can’t imagine it left you with a whole lot of faith in the idea of people sticking around. I wish I could say that I’ve always given you a reason to trust me, to depend on me, but I can’t say that either. What I can say, is that I’m in now. I’m going to see this thing through, and when I make the decision to do that, there’s nothing that changes my mind. I’m in now and I’m not going to ask you to leave. I don’t care how badly you piss me off.”

“I appreciate that,” Clara answered slowly, half laughing and half crying at this point, “believe me, I do, but I’m going. I know you don’t like it, and to be perfectly honest, I didn’t expect you to, but I’m going. I’m going because there’s a voice inside of my head that’s telling me it’s the right thing to do. It’s not going to go away, alright? It’s just not, except that if I go and see him, maybe it will.”

“Fine. You’re making a mistake. I don’t need to tell you that again, but I’m going to because it’s true. You’re making a mistake, and it’s a big one because you’re making choices from your emotions and not using your head. But if that’s what you’re going to do, alright. I guess I even sort of understand. But I’m going with you.”

Clara closed her eyes briefly and sighed. She should absolutely have anticipated him saying this, but for some reason, it hadn’t even occurred to her. So now they would have to have another fight, have a whole new one based on the exact same premise. It was exhausting, this fighting, exhausting that she couldn’t help briefly wondering if she wouldn’t have been better off never calling Weston after the attack. Then there was the part of her that couldn’t help but wonder if all of this, all of this drive to take care of her, wasn’t coming out of some kind of misguided need to save her so that he could somehow be saving his dead wife at the same time. It was perhaps an unkind thing to think, and yet there was a voice inside her that said she should just say it out loud and see what he said, what he did. It would surely have been a terrible thing to speak out loud, but he had been the one to bring pop psychology into everything so who would really be to blame? The answer, she decided, was both of them. Either both of them or none of them. The truth of the matter was that they were both broken people in a less than ideal situation. They were both broken people trying to figure out how to navigate each other because extenuating circumstances had dictated that it would be so. They would never have come together this way if it hadn’t been for her slaughtered pet and then the coincidence of them both having grown up in the same neighborhood. Trying to pretend that they would have, or to pretend that either one of them was somehow a whole and well-functioning person, would be like trying to live inside of a fairytale. It was a nice idea but it wouldn’t work out in the end.

“What is it now, Clara?”

“Hm?” she asked lightly, stalling and wondering at the same time how much of these thoughts Weston had been able to read on her face. “What do you mean, what is it now? I didn’t say anything.”

“No, that’s right, you sure as shit didn’t. Unfortunately for you I’m wise enough to the world to know that just because a woman isn’t saying anything doesn’t mean she isn’t thinking anything. It doesn’t take a genius to see that you are most definitely thinking something at the moment. You’re thinking many things, I think, and I have a feeling I’m not going to be a fan of any of them.”

“Not many things,” she lied, grateful to whatever modicum of self-restraint she possessed within herself that kept her from saying all of the other terrible things that had just flown through her thoughts. “Just one, and yes, I’m pretty sure you’re right. You aren’t going to be a huge fan.”

“You better just say it then. The sooner you say it, the sooner I can tell you why I disagree.”

“I’m not bringing you with me. I’m going to visit Marlin Grant, and I’m going alone.”

“Damnit. God damnit. I knew that was it. I knew you were going to say that even before I told you I was coming. What is it about you, Clara? What is it that makes you so fucking impossible to reason with?”

“Just because I don’t agree with you doesn’t mean I’m unreasonable, Weston. It means I don’t agree. That’s it. There’s nothing more to it than that. You just don’t want to hear it. I have a feeling you don’t ever feel like hearing someone say something that you don’t agree with.”

“You mean when it’s a terrible fucking idea? No, you’re right, I don’t. I mean for the love of God, Clara, what’s with the whole lone gunslinger, desperado shit?”

“That’s not what I’m doing. But he’ll want me to come alone, Weston. He will. I know it, and I think you know it, too. If I go there, but I bring you along, I might as well not be going at all for all the good it’ll do me.”

“Good!” Weston shouted, a sound almost loud enough to pierce all of the resolve she’d built up for herself. “Great! That’s fucking fantastic to hear! So then why not just skip the whole stupid thing and say we didn’t? We’ll just have a cup of coffee together and figure out what the next step needs to be. We’ll just have five minutes around each other that are somewhere in the general realm of normal.”

“‘I’m sorry,” she answered in a low, husky voice, feeling absurdly as if denying Weston this simple request might actually break her heart or something equally, stupidly sentimental. “I honestly am. I don’t want to make you mad, but I’m going. I’m going, and then I’ll be back and it’ll be like nothing ever happened. You’ll see, I promise.”

Without waiting for a response, Clara walked away, pushing him out of the way gently with hands that were shaking. The honest to God truth was that she didn’t really want to go. She wanted to do just what Weston had said, to sit down with a cup of coffee and do something as mundane as talk about the weather. She wanted to do that so badly that her insides literally ached, and if she stopped walking for even a moment, even a moment as small as to ask him politely to get out of her way, she would bend to his will. She knew it; she couldn’t deny it even if she’d wanted to, and so she pushed past him and walked towards the front door with her head held up high and the threat of tears coating the inside of her throat. She was almost past the point where he could reach her when she felt his hand grasp hers and then, before she could get any kind of protest past her lips, he was spinning her around to face him. His arms folded around her and pulled her into him so that his spicy scent was the only thing she could make any sense of at all. Her hands raised to push against his chest, but the movement was weak, half-hearted. Part of her wanted to free herself from his embrace and run out of the loft as quickly as she could. There was another part of her though, and this part was almost as large as the first and growing rapidly, that wanted to stay in Weston’s loft with him for the rest of her life. She wanted to shut out the entire world and stay there for as long as he wanted her, and if that turned out to be forever, she thought that would be just fine with her. She continued to push against him and was terrified to find that so much of her heart was no longer in it. If she didn’t get away from him and quickly, she might really give it up and something told her that would be a mistake.

“Be careful, Clara,” he said in a husky voice that didn’t sound like him at all. “You better be fucking careful because I don’t want anything to happen to you. I can’t have that happen. Do you understand me?”

Before she could answer him or even think of anything to say, his lips had found hers. He kissed her deeply. He kissed her with more passion than she’d known could exist between a man and a woman, and in that moment, she would have done whatever he told her to. If he had asked her then to stay, if he had made his heart-felt plea again, she would have said yes without a moment’s hesitation. She would have come to resent him for it later, and perhaps he knew that, perhaps it was why he didn’t reiterate his request, but she would have done it nevertheless. She would have done it because when he kissed her that way, it felt like he was the only thing that mattered in the world, him and that kiss. Then it was over and his arms had left her. He looked at her for a beat more, a beat that could have held a whole world of words, and then he was storming out of the room and shutting a distant door so that she could not follow. It was time for her to go and never in her life had she wanted to do something less.

***

“I have to say, my dear, I didn’t actually believe this day would come.”

“Don’t call me ‘dear.’ We don’t know each other at all, and we certainly aren’t friends. If you have to call me anything, call me Clara.”

“Why? There’s no demand to be called by your Christian name? If we’re being uptight, that’s honestly what I would have expected.”

“I’m not being uptight, and I don’t want you to call me by my Christian name because I don’t want to hear it coming out of your mouth. I don’t want to hear any part of my name coming out of your mouth. You know, just so we’re clear.”

Now that Clara was sitting in her cracked orange plastic chair in front of the glass partition that separated her and Marlin Grant, she couldn’t help but wish she’d taken Weston up on his offer to come along, and to wish so fervently. She didn’t want to be here. She didn’t want to be in this sickening place, full of people who were far more broken than she was. Far more broken and far more dangerous as well. She could feel them both, the sickness and the danger, so completely that it was as if the emotions had been bottled somehow and were being leaked through the air conditioning vents. This was a terrible place, and Marlin Grant was just as terrible as everything around him. And the way he sat there looking at her! The way he sat there in that jumpsuit, wearing the garment that meant he was a ward of the state as if he were wearing a three-piece Gucci suit, made her want to scream. And the smirk on his smug face didn’t help any, either. This man had no right to look so pleased, so self-righteous, and yet, there was not a thing in the world she could do to put a stop to it. Maybe the worst part of it all was that she had come here of her own volition. She had come here because she had honestly believed that doing so would help somehow, that it would make any difference at all. Now that she was sitting and looking at him, however, she couldn’t remember what it was that had made her think such a foolish thing. All she knew was that he looked very pleased with himself, which meant that this whole thing was far more likely to work out in his favor than it was to work out for hers. As if to punctuate the point, he raised one manicured eyebrow and smirked, taking a long, uncomfortable moment to look her up and down.

“I must say, Miss Blake, it looks like you might have seen better days.”

“Oh, gee. Thanks. What a gentleman you are.”

“No disrespect meant, dear,” he answered in a voice that made it clear that disrespect was precisely what he meant. “It’s just that you look very…shall we say stressed? Yes, stressed sounds like the perfect word for it.”

“Stressed, huh? I wonder why that might be?”

“Life has a way of doing that to us, I’m afraid. It’s a real tragedy, that’s what I think. Life throws us these awful punches, and there we are, left to figure out what to do with them the best we can.”

“I don’t know that I would say life threw you any awful punches, Mr. Grant.”

“Please,” he broke in in a slimy, lascivious manner that made her want to go home and take a shower. “Call me Marlin.”

“I wouldn’t say life threw you any ‘awful punches’ at all. From where I’m sitting, it looks like you were too spoiled to know when to say when. You got too greedy, and this is what happened.”

“Sounds to me like you don’t know what you’re talking about,” Marlin snarled, all of his former pomp and circumstance eradicated by his sudden righteous anger. “That’s what it sounds like to me.”

“Why did you want me to come?” she asked him quietly, realizing all of the sudden that she was far too tired to have this kind of brutal verbal sparring match. “What do you want from me?”

“Don’t look at it that way, dear,” he answered in the same sickeningly smooth tone he’d used at first, the only sign of his having ever been angry at all, the flush that still colored his cheeks and made his eyes look overly bright. “It’s such a crass way of seeing the world.”

“Is it now? And you’re seriously telling me the ‘classy’ way to do things? Is that what’s happening right now?”

“Is that so infeasible?”

“Um, a little bit, yes.”

“Why is that? Please, darling, why don’t you enlighten me? Things can get so terribly dull in here.”

“Because you’re in prison, Mr. Grant. For all kinds of things, none of which were anything resembling classy.”

“Doesn’t mean anything. Class is in your blood, Miss Blake. It doesn’t go away just because you make an unfortunate choice.”

“And unfortunate choice? So, trying to rob your own brother blind and then trying to kill my friend, those both fall under the umbrella of an unfortunate choice?”

“You can keep talking all you want, Miss Blake. If you’re trying to rattle me, and I believe that you are, it won’t work. There are far more formidable foes in here than anything you could present. And besides, you’re reading far too much into what I said. All I meant was that while you can continue to look at this as you being forced into coming to see me, it might make things easier for both of us if you think of this as a mutually beneficial relationship.”

“Mutually beneficial? And I’m sorry, but did you say relationship?”

“Indeed, I did, my dear.”

“We don’t have a relationship, Mr. Grant. Like, not at all. Literally the only reason I’m here is so I can get your goon to stop bothering me. He killed my pet. Did you know that? He killed my pet, and then he threatened to kill me. It’s the only reason I’m here, and when I leave here, I fully expect to be done with you so why don’t you just cut the bullshit and tell me what you want.”

“I’m sorry to disappoint, but you won’t be done with me or this ‘situation’ when you leave here. This is only the beginning.”

“No,” she said quickly, quickly and loudly enough that several of the guards glanced in her direction, and then at Marlin Grant to make sure that everything was alright. “No way.”

“You can be done when I get what I need from you and not before.”

“I don’t have anything for you, don’t you see that? I don’t even know you!”

“That’s true, you don’t, but my sources tell me that you do know Elsie Morrow, know her very well. And that means you know my brother, which is just wonderful.”

“So you want to use me to get back at Caleb? Is that it? Because if it is you might as well stop asking. You can keep threatening me all you want, but we’ll find whoever it is you’ve got doing your dirty work for you, and then your time in here will only increase.”

“Actually, I think you’ll do exactly what I want.”

“And what the hell makes you think that?”

“Because, I’ve got information you would kill for, and the only way you’re going to get it is if you do exactly what I tell you to do.”