Page 38 of Break You

What? “What? How the fuck did you get that from those words?”

“Long story short, we used to say a rhyme to remember the first twenty numbers of Pi. Basically, each word in the rhyme has the corresponding number of letters to the number it represents—the first has three, the second has one, the third has four, and so on. The one I used to know isn’t this exactly, but something about it seemed kind of familiar in its rhythm or something, so I counted all the letters, and what do you know? They match exactly.”

“So, my letters are definitely P and I?”

She nodded slowly. “Yup.”

“You’re a weirdo, but that’s why I love you. Especially when your weirdness helps me out.”

“So, are you gonna tell me what this is really about? Because, I’m not buying that ‘it’s kind of for an assignment’ bullcrap you fed me before.”

“Nope.” I popped the p loudly.

“You suck.” She smiled broadly as she spoke.

“You too.” I grinned right back at her.

Xavier

I woke up at the crack of nothing, to my dick throbbing painfully and the sound of my phone ringing, and knew even before I looked at the screen that it was Mike calling.

“You’d better have the rest of that information for me. You’re late, and I’ve been distracted, so I let it slide, but enough is enough. This needs to be good, or you can kiss your fee goodbye.” It wasn’t about the money, of course. His fee was less than I spent on drinks in a month. It was the principle of the matter, and reminding him who was boss.

“I apologize for the delay, but I don’t think you’ll be disappointed with what I have to share with you.”

“Okay, so stop flapping your trap, and tell me.”

“Well, I did some more digging on Ms. Gordon, as you instructed, and the results were very… interesting.” My jaw pulsed as I resisted the urge to again tell him to hurry the fuck up. “It would seem that she had a very troubled and unsettled early life. There are CPS records of her bouncing around the system pretty much from day one. The mother had, and in fact, still has, issues with drug and alcohol dependency, and her children suffered as a result. Neglect, abuse, abandonment, the full nine yards. She has a list of citations as long as your arm and a healthy rap sheet to match—solicitation, minor drugs charges, petty theft, fraud. The list goes on.

“The children spent more time being brought up by strangers, or just dragging themselves up than they ever did with their mother.” I knew that feeling, but apart from the absentee parents, my circumstances couldn’t have been more different, so I kept my thoughts to myself. “Obviously you know about the brother. His was pretty much the textbook route for a kid of his background, in and out of juvenile detention, a rap sheet longer than his mother’s, and clearly dedicated to pursuing a life of crime forever, but Ms. Gordon was, and is, a different kettle of fish. Straight A student, honor role, valedictorian, prizes and awards for just about everything you can think of throughout her schooling. And she appears to be a model citizen. Hardly even received so much as a parking ticket.” Except for when her car was towed recently, of course. “Apart from her relatives with whom she doesn’t seem to have much contact, she has no known criminal associates. She’s as clean as a whistle. Cleaner, in fact.”

That fit with what I knew, from her conscientious attitude to classes and work, down to the fact that she’d walked away from the money I’d left her that night at the Swan Club, except the thousand dollars she’d been promised for the evening’s work. I’d genuinely wanted her to have the rest, figuring she could use it to buy a car that was actually roadworthy or pay her rent for the rest of the year, so that she didn’t have to work two jobs and still take sketchy anonymous offers of work made via text. Of course, at that stage, I hadn’t figured on her moral compass being quite as unwavering as it clearly was.

“She’s been financially independent from an early age, surviving on the bones of her butt while working back-to-back jobs when she should have been at home studying, or tucked up safely in bed.” And she still killed it at school regardless. I was beginning to think she was some kind of superhuman. “Speaking of money, and supporting herself, here comes the real news. She’s not on the scholarship list.”

“What are you talking about? Of course, she is. You said so yourself, she survives on minimum wage jobs. There’s no way she could afford to pay even for a few classes, let alone the full college experience, without the scholarship.”

“That’s not exactly true. I said that she didn't receive a scholarship. I didn’t say she paid her fees herself. She receives financial assistance, but not through formal scholarship channels.”

“Stop talking in circles and get to the fucking point.” So much for maintaining some kind of control, but then again, I still had a raging boner from the wet dream Mike had interrupted, and the blue balls were so intense, I’d almost rather have woken up with sticky sheets like a horny kid, than deal with him and morning wood at the same time. “If she’s not on a scholarship, and she’s clearly not paying her own fees, who the fuck is?”

“That’s the million dollar question, and one that’s going to take time to answer.”

“Time. Why does it always come back to that? I thought money made the world go round.” Though Rocky’s rejection of the wads of cash Mr. Cob left her had already made me start to question that premise. “I pay you a shit ton of money, so that time isn’t an issue, so why the fuck do you keep telling me that things take time?”

“No, Mr. Cr—Xavier. You pay me a ‘shit ton’ of money, because I’m the best. That said, I’m not Criss Angel—I cannot conjure information out of thin air. I’m the best because I do what I do cleanly, with no trace and no comeback for anyone concerned, and I do not make mistakes. Working that way takes time on occasion, but it also ensures that neither of us goes to jail—I’m sure you don’t need reminding where the law sits on what we’re doing. What I’ve found out so far is more than other people in the field could glean in a month—in some cases, six—without leaving a trace. But safely finding any more than that will take longer. You don’t have to like it, but it is the way it is.”

I knew he was right, but it didn’t stop me from wanting to throat-punch him.

“Anything else?”

“You asked about Ms. Gordon’s ‘social life’, did you not?” I had no idea why he insisted on speaking like someone’s British butler—I was pretty sure he was born and bred in Jersey.

“I asked you who she’s fucking, if that’s what you mean.”

“Indeed. And I presume that under the current circumstances you no longer need an answer to that question?”

“Not unless there’s anyone other than me.”

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