Page 44 of For Wrath and Redemption
“Jewelry,” my translator says. “They use it to make ornaments and jewelry. They were donated by a local woodcarver.”
I nod and take a seat next to the little girl, snatching a small wooden figurine out of the bin. She scoots a tin of paintbrushes in front of me, so I grab one of those, too. I scan the paints on the table, then point to a few bottles in front of the girl.
“Can you pass me those blues, please?”
She does, and I get to work. The figurine is small. It doesn’t take me long to cover it in a spiral of light and dark blue swirls. I set it aside to dry, thank the little girl, and let the kids pull me through a few other activities.
I win three games of tic-tac-toe, get my ass handed to me in a game of Wii Bowling, and am reminded just how out of shape I am when they force me into a game of basketball. Obviously, Thor is not a miracle worker. I’m a panting, gasping, pathetic mess. A walking billboard for the dangers of smoking and drinking. Don’t be like me, kids. Just say no to, well, everything.
Then I’m mercifully brought a beat-up acoustic guitar and asked to play.
“Okay,” I say as I throw the leather strap over my head and take a seat on the edge of a table. “Do we have any requests?”
I tune the guitar as the kids talk over each other excitedly. I glance at my interpreter, and he shrugs with a laugh.
“Just play what you like.”
I nod and think for a moment, then my eyes catch on Claire. She’s standing alone on the far wall, just outside of the crowd, but she’s got her attention on me.
And she’s smiling.
It’s a small smile, lips curved slightly higher on one side, but she’s definitely smiling, and it’s not taunting or forced. It’s happy. Playful, even.
It’s beautiful.
My fingers freeze briefly before I catch myself, and her smile grows a fraction of an inch. She arches a teasing brow, so I narrow my eyes and give her a smile of my own before fingerpicking the opening chords to “Blackbird” by The Beatles.
It takes effort to tear my eyes from hers, but I make myself do it. Idon’t like the way my heart starts to race the longer I look at her. I don’t like the way my neck starts to heat, or the way I can almost smell her lavender and sugar scent from across the room. I don’t like the way my motives start to blur at the edges.
I don’t like any of it.
I avert my gaze and don’t look at her again until I’m handing the acoustic back to an employee and saying my goodbyes to the kids. Mrs. Nilsson asks if I would mind taking a group photo, and of course, I agree. That’s why I’m here. It’s a PR stunt orchestrated by my father’s manipulative, evil-genius employee.
By my babysitter.
My babysitter who has a boyfriend who’s probably cheating on her with some sidepiece named Dierdre.
Finally, I let myself look back at Claire, this time controlling the way my mind catalogues what it sees. A pleased expression. A keen eye. A need to succeed.
And a strong desire for acceptance.
I can use this.
I find fulfillment in a match well-played,she’d said back in that New York hotel room. Because this is a game to her. This is chess. I need to remember what a formidable opponent she is.
I smile at her again. I give her the same smile I give Sav and Mabel when I want them to believe I’m sober. The smile I give my therapist when I want her to believe I’m stable and improving. The smile I give Torren when I want him to believe I’m not harboring feelings of rejection and jealousy when it comes to his girlfriend.
I give Claire the smile I give everyone else when I need to get what I want, but because I don’t expect her to buy it as easily, I throw in a wink. She blushes, and I mentally draw a tally in the Jonah column where I’ve been keeping score.
She’s ahead, but I’ll catch up quickly.
“Thank you again for having me, Mrs. Nilsson,” I say, shaking her hand once more. “I had a great time.”
“We did, too. Thank you so much. Feel free to come back anytime.”
“Maybe next time we’ll bring the rest of the band,” Claire adds, and then we’re climbing into the back seat and waving goodbye as the car drives away.
“I’m starving.” I pull my phone out of my pocket and pull up the hotel app. “I’m going to order room service so it’s at the room when we get back. What do you want?”
