Page 111 of Nine-Tenths

"Of course not!" Dav gasps.

Sarah, who joined us for the meal to review upcoming picker hires with Dav, laughs up a storm.

"Rats." I snap my fingers. "There goes that fantasy."

"I can have the car brought up," Sarah says.

"The way you say … oh my god, do you not know how to drive?" I twist in my chair to face Dav.

"It's… unseemly," Dav says, with that same wince he gets when he talks about draconic taboos.

"And not necessary," Sarah breezes out, focused on her tablet. "We have a driver."

"What if you want privacy?" I ask. Dav squirms instead of answering. I can tell by the way his eyelashes move that he's flicking looks at Sarah and doesn't want her to see.

"Wait, every morning, someone drove you to the café? Someonealwaysdrives you? They picked you up from my house? You did the backseat ride of shame? Was the rideshare from the hospital actuallyyourcar?"

Dav squirms more, and cuts me a pleading look that begs for me to stop. It hits me, all of a sudden, that Dav, the Master of the Estate, has to ask someone to take him places.

Like a child.

Just another way Lt. Gov. Dickface can control him.

"What happens if you say no?" I ask, facing Sarah.

"Why would I?" She finally looks up at me. "I don't control where Master Tudor goes."

"Unless I'm meant to be elsewhere," Dav adds softly, with that unhappy throat-click.

Sarah chuckles. "Yes, of course, sir. You did put me in charge of your calendar."

"So youcantell him he's not allowed to go," I clarify.

Sarah finally seems to hook onto my mood. "If he's meant to be somewhere—"

"—even if it's somewhere he doesn't want to be?"

"—I'm going to…" Sarah trails off, eyes bouncing between us, growing wider behind today's bright purple frames. "Sir?"

"Never mind Master Levesque," Dav says, standing. "Yes, we'll have the car please."

"No, not 'never mind' me. We'll have the car, but not the driver."

"Colin—!"

"I’m 'Master Levesque', but I don't get to issue orders?"

"The car will be around the front, sirs." Sarah says, disgruntled, and types into her tablet. Probably texting the driver. "Keys will be in the ignition tray."

"Thank you. And the next time Master Tudor asks to go somewhere and your schedule says he's not allowed, consult me before you say no. Come on," I say, head high and determination set, tugging Dav to the door. "I'm teaching you how to drive."

Dav twists around to say something to Sarah—probably an apology, I don't catch it—but lets me pull him out the door.

"Colin, that wasn't—"

"What kind of car do you have?" I ask, as we jam on our shoes. "Vintage Bentley? A Tin Lizzy?"

Dav huffs and the dimple makes a brief appearance. "Why not the new solar one?"

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