Page 1 of My Favorite Lost Cause
1
MAREN
Persephone wasn’t a victim.
Sure, she was abducted by Hades. Sure, she had to give up a couple seasons on Earth. But that descent into shadow was necessary; it’s how she found her true self, how she came into her power.
That’s what has happened to Charlie, my stepbrother. He’s descended into shadow—a drunken, noncommunicative shadow that’s kept him from the last four family dinners—but he’ll eventually emerge better than he was.
His dad, Roger, says it’s just a bender, but that I should check anyway.
It’s still unclear to me whyIwas the one asked to perform this welfare check. It should have been Roger—they actually share DNA. Even my younger sister, Kit, would be better—if he refused to let her in, she’d probably kick down his door. Effective, if nothing else. I agreed because Charlie has a better heart than anyone gives him credit for, and I want to be sure it’s handled with care. Or perhaps it’s just that I struggle to saynoto anything asked of me.
When the driver arrives at Charlie’s building, glinting like aknife in the summer sun, I grab the tray of juice in my lap and tell him not to wait.
This might take a while. Or no time at all if Charlie doesn’t let me upstairs, which is a strong possibility. I’ll risk it.
I greet the doorman and make some inane comment about the weather. Kit hates my little social niceties.You don’t need to be everyone’s best friend, she’s said a million times. But I like being liked. And mostly, it works—Charlie is the only person who can’t be swayed. It’s not that he hates me—it’s just that he doesn’t allow himself to be won over.
So I probably won’t win him over today.
I give the woman at the front desk my name and identify myself as Charlie’s sister, though it’s not technically true.
“Can you tell him it’s urgent?” I add when she calls upstairs. Because he’s very, very likely to send me packing otherwise.
This strategy works. A few moments later, I’m inside the elevator and heading for the tenth floor…without a clue what I’ll say when I arrive.
I already know he’s going to be a dick to me the entire time I’m trying to fix things, but underneath all that…there will be a wound, because Charlie’s real issue is that he cares and doesn’t want to. That he would fight to the death for all of us and can’t stand to let on.
I knock and he opens the door for me, running a hand through his unruly brown hair. His eyes are only half open, he needed a shave a month ago, and he’s in nothing but a pair of boxers.
None of these things should look quite as good as Charlie makes them look.
“To what do I owe this unprompted, incredibly early visit I never agreed to?” he asks, without suggesting I enter.
“It’s noon, Charlie,” I reply. “And you could have at least put on some clothes.”
He raises a brow. “Ididput on clothes.”
I blink. I never took Charlie for asleeps in the nudekind of guy.
Yuck. Moving on. “Are you going to let me in?”
He pinches the bridge of his nose. “This really isn’t a good time, Maren. Can I call you later?”
It’s unlike me to push. But Charlie—as debauched as he is—doesn’t typically sleep ’til noon and dodge his father’s calls. Something has gone wrong, and I can’t leave until I know what it is. “I brought you some juice. It’ll help with the hangover.”
He runs a hand through his thick hair until it’s practically standing up straight and plucks the green juice from my hand. “This juice doesn’t even go with vodka.”
“Charles,” I say sternly, “don’t you dare add vodka. Let me in.”
He finally steps aside, and I get my first hint as to why he really didn’t want me here. This place looks like a frat house at two in the morning. Pizza boxes, wine bottles, his suits, newspapers…a broken lamp rests atop a partially collapsed bookshelf. It’s like the morning-after scene inThe Hangover, minus the lion in the bathroom, although, to be honest…I haven’t gone into the bathroom, so the jury’s out.
“And here I was worried you might have company,” I say faintly.
“I did,” he says with a shrug. “I think she’s gone. If you spy a dead female, give me a small heads-up before you call the police.”
“I’m not sure how I’d spy anything with all the shit on your floor.”
