Fortitude Smashed Page 22
Karman was always difficult to read when it came to Camellia Clocks, but sometimes she was more than that. Her tragedy turned her cruel, icing over the part of her that Shannon admired most: her compassion.
“She’ll be fine,” Karman said. She lifted her eyes, daring him to push further. “As far as I know, Piper’s daughter had been with her Rose Road for two years. He left in the middle of the night a week ago and changed his number so no one can find him. Shit happens, people disappear. She’ll heal.”
Shannon’s mouth clenched. You haven’t. The words were on the tip of his tongue, but he didn’t let them past his teeth. He didn’t have the energy for what would come after.
“What’s the case?”
“Looks like we’ve got an open domestic abuse charge, felony possession of drugs—methamphetamines, intention to sell—and…” Karman tapped her pen against the open file. “Assault with a deadly weapon. Internal shit, family, extended family, drugs have been in the household for a while. Dude was an informant, got out and missed his court date, now there’s a warrant.”
“Why is this being handled by homicide?”
“He’s wanted for attempted murder in Arizona.” Karman squinted at the third page. She handed the file to Shannon. “And there’s an unsolved case here, guy gunned down north of Anaheim during a deal gone bad. They think it’s him, this, uh…”
Shannon scanned the paperwork. “David Mortez.”
“Yeah, him.”
“They took someone wanted for attempted murder and offered him a deal as an informant; go team,” Shannon whispered sarcastically. Karman nodded.
“You wanna do this?” Shannon asked.
She nodded. “As long as you do.”
“All right,” Shannon said, but his stomach flipped. “We’ll take it on. Let’s hope we can make a clean arrest.”
“We will.” Karman popped a barbecue-flavored chip in her mouth and shook the bag at Shannon.
He took one, and it crunched under his teeth. “We’ll see.”
30
Aiden answered the door while Daisy was still knocking.
She jumped. Beside her stood a suitcase almost as tall as she was with a backpack strapped to the top of it. She bounced on the toes of her Converse and grinned with lips a little too big for her chin. Her usual dark bob was angled into a stylish cut: shaved in the back, long strands over her ears, straight bangs across her eyebrows. One side of her hair was stark white, the other midnight black.
“Holy shit, Aiden!” Daisy lunged forward and clasped her arms around his neck. She practically climbed him. “Look at you! Look at this!” She lifted his shirt. “You’re actually working out now?”
Daisy, a tiny, compact thing, balanced around his waist easily, and Aiden spun her around.
“I quit smoking and started running,” he said. He set her down, and she dove for Mercy, who slept soundly on the couch. “I thought I might cough up one of my lungs at first, but I guess it paid off. It’s only been two weeks, and you and Shannon both noticed.”
Daisy gasped. She held Mercy against her face and went back to bouncing excitedly. “Shannon? Instagram guy! The Abercrombie model! He’s your Rose Road, right?”
Mercy, a ragdoll in Daisy’s slender arms, yawned.
“Yeah, that’s him.” Aiden pulled the suitcase inside and closed the door. He smiled at her, and she smiled back, both of them too excited to do anything except stare.
Daisy was the same, but not. She’d grown from an awkward, pretty teenager into a startling, beautiful woman—odd in the best ways, with a curved nose that she always said she would fix with plastic surgery, and small, dark eyes. Her brows were the same, thick and sharp; her ear lobes stretched around fancy crystal plugs. Aiden swore those were the same shoes from junior year, but instead of black-on-black accented with spikes and lace, Daisy wore a striped red and white crop top, high-waisted shorts, and knee-high black socks.
“Daisy Yuen,” Aiden whispered.
“Aiden Maar,” she whispered back.
“Hungry?”
Daisy nodded and kissed Mercy’s face. “Starving.”
“Diner?”
Daisy grinned. “Always.”
“Okay, wait, wait, back up.” Daisy stuffed a fry in her mouth. “You’re a professional burglar? You steal shit and make money by selling it on the Internet to dealers?”
“Used to,” Aiden corrected. “Not anymore, that’s just how we met.”
“And he has a bombshell ex-chick who hates you.”
“Correct.”
“And his partner is dating Marcus?”
“She doesn’t call it that, but yeah. Karman and Marcus are dating. He’s got a toothbrush at her place and everything.”
Daisy leaned back in the booth. They sat by the window, their old spot, and ate fries smothered in cheese sauce. Kelly brought Daisy a vanilla Coke, her usual order, and they swooned together over how wonderful it was that Daisy was home. Daisy ordered a veggie burger and Aiden ordered chicken strips. It was as if nothing had changed. They were back in high school, eating late at night, worrying about chemistry exams, and Vance being an asshole, and how they were going to score something fun for a party that weekend.
She tapped the tip of her nose and smirked. “You still have it.”
“Yeah, I started wearing it down again. You took yours out?”
“Hell, no!” Daisy plucked down her septum ring, black with silver spikes on the tips. “I hid it when my mom drove me to the airport. She still doesn’t know about it.”
“Still? We did them freshman year, which means it’s been…” Aiden’s gaze drifted to the ceiling, and he curled his fingers, counting. “Daisy, it’s been eight years. How has she not seen it?”
“I’ve been at school. The only time she saw me was on break. Speaking of which, she took me to fucking China, did I tell you about that?” Daisy waved her index finger at Aiden while she sipped her soda. “China, Aiden. Told me I had to go visit my grandparents and ask them for guidance since this is my Clock year. I watched them brutalize a goose. Grandma snapped its neck right in front of me. I burst into tears; eyeliner ran everywhere; it was terrible. Pandemonium.”
“Did you eat it?”
“Of course I didn’t, you monster,” she said with a snort and threw a fry at him. “Tell me more about Abercrombie.”
“Shannon,” Aiden corrected.
“I’m calling him Abercrombie, might as well get used to it. He’s a cop, which is hilarious; he’s from Georgia, also hilarious; and he’s… good in bed, or?”
This time Aiden threw the fry. Daisy tried to catch it with her mouth, but missed, and ended up with cheese sauce smeared on her cheek.
“You need a car,” Aiden said matter-of-factly, changing the subject. The diner wasn’t the place to discuss his sex life with Daisy; she was too loud, and Aiden was too honest. She would laugh at him, and he would be embarrassed. Not that Aiden had anything to be embarrassed about, but his apartment was more appropriate for that discussion. “How much do you have saved up?”
“Enough. Like twenty something. I have my grad money, my internship pays well, and I was a waitress at the twenty-four-hour café on campus, made a ton of tips. I’m thinking practical, a Toyota or something.”
“By practical, you mean fast?”
Daisy rolled her eyes and munched on her burger. There was ketchup on her chin and cheese sauce on her cheek, and she smiled at him around a mouthful of food. Again, it was as if nothing had changed, and Aiden almost wished they were sixteen again.
He’d make better choices. He’d keep in touch. He’d probably go to college. He’d be something.
But they weren’t sixteen, and Aiden couldn’t go back, and he said it loudly in his head, you’ll be fine, you’ll be fine, you’ll be fine, no matter how envious he was of everyone else’s success.
00:00
Shannon met Daisy on January eighteenth.
He opened the apartment door and walked inside to be greeted by Aiden, who popped his head out of the kitchen and said, “I just put the noodles in.”
Shannon nodded and gestured with his chin at the woman on the couch talking on the phone. She swiveled her head one way and then another; her slender hand perched on her knee.
“Mom,” Daisy groaned. She held the phone away from her ear, flashed a curious smile at Shannon, and curled two fingers in a wave. Her conversation switched between Mandarin and English. “Aiden’s fine—Aiden, say hi,” she shouted, and held the phone over the arm of the couch.
Balancing on one foot, Aiden leaned out of the kitchen. “Hi, Mrs. Yuen!”
Shannon, unsure what to do, squeezed past Aiden and sat on the kitchen counter.
“I start a week from today, next Monday. Yeah—Yes, Mom. I promise. We won’t get in trouble, oh, my god—Aiden!” Daisy held the phone out again. “Tell her we won’t get in trouble.”
Aiden snatched the phone. “Hi, Violet. I’m good, yeah. Yeah,” he laughed, holding the phone between his ear and shoulder as he stirred sauce in a skillet. “I’m dating a cop. He’ll make sure we don’t do anything stupid.” Aiden glanced at Shannon and smiled. “That’s right, you heard me. Yeah, he willingly dates me. Crazy, I know. Nope, not holding him against his will.”
“Mom!” Daisy yelled, as if her mother could hear her from the couch. “Don’t be mean!”
“Uh-huh, yeah. Here’s Daisy.” Aiden handed the phone back.
“Not holding me against my will, huh?” Shannon dipped his finger in the sauce and tasted. “Needs garlic.”
“Am I?” Aiden asked, and opened the fridge, shoving a container of minced garlic at Shannon’s chest.
“Yeah, it’s Stockholm syndrome. I can’t bring myself to leave.”
“Good.” Aiden laughed. He drained the noodles and then caught Shannon’s lips in a quick kiss.
Daisy made a noise from the couch as if she was cooing at a baby. “Mom, I have to go. Aiden cooked dinner. Yeah, you heard me right. He cooked. It is incredible. No, it won’t poison me. I love you.” She paused, said something in Mandarin, and hung up.
Daisy flopped on the couch with her elbows on the arm rest and her chin in her palms. She kicked her feet above her rear and grinned. “I’m Daisy.” She looked Shannon up and down. “You’re Shannon. We’ll be friends in no time.”
Shannon liked her.
“You dress like an asshole, though.”
Maybe Shannon didn’t like her.
Taken off guard, Aiden almost fell against the counter laughing.
“He’s totally Abercrombie, Aiden.” She pointed at Shannon. “What even are those things on your head?” Daisy tried not to laugh and failed.
Shannon’s face heated. He tapped the top of his head; the edges of his sunglasses were cold on his fingertips. “These?”
Aiden slid against the fridge until he hit the tile and howled.
The bright kitchen lights gleamed off Shannon’s gold sunglasses. He frowned, turning them in his hands. He swung his foot at Aiden, but Aiden caught it, rubbed Shannon’s calf, and rested his forehead against his shin. Shannon tugged at the sleeves of his brown knit sweater, adjusted one of the buttons below the collar, and analyzed every stitch in his blue jeans. Aiden and Daisy continued to laugh, pleased with themselves.
It didn’t take long before Shannon was laughing, too. “Sorry, I don’t buy pre-ripped jeans and Sharpie my fingernails black.”
Aiden’s mouth rounded. His teeth dove into his bottom lip. Daisy stopped laughing; her mouth hung open in a grin. Shannon glanced between them, suddenly afraid he’d crossed a line.
“We totally did that in high school,” Daisy admitted, and started laughing again. “We had punch cards at Hot Topic and everything.”
Cheeks red, barely able to breathe, Aiden let go of Shannon’s foot and curled in on himself.
“I’m just kidding, Shannon,” Daisy said. “Sort of. I’m still gonna call you Abercrombie, and we did have punch cards. But anyway, it’s nice to meet you. I’m glad you have a sense of humor.”
“You think he would’ve stuck around this long if he didn’t?” Aiden stood up, reigned in lingering chuckles, and patted Shannon’s thigh. “Now that Daisy’s gotten her initial insult out of the way, we should probably eat.”
“Was that what that was?” Shannon tilted his head.
“Yeah, I had to be sure you weren’t the bad kind of cop, the pretentious, chased-us-when-we-were-teenagers kind,” Daisy said.
Shannon’s head jerked back. “You could’ve told her I wasn’t,” he said, throwing the words over his shoulder.
Aiden shrugged and piled spaghetti into separate bowls—probably the only three he owned.
“I did; she had to see for herself.” Aiden handed one bowl to Shannon, the other to Daisy.
The only table in Aiden’s apartment besides the coffee table was on the balcony. It was cramped and a little cold. Still, they decided to sit outside and enjoy the sunset. The sky was all pinks and purples and oranges, too beautiful to miss. Aiden sat in Shannon’s lap, and Mercy sat in Daisy’s.
They ate their spaghetti over a conversation that consisted mostly of Daisy reminiscing, and Aiden laughing, and Shannon listening. Daisy spoke with her hands: grand gestures and intricate flicks of her wrists. She had a windy voice, and smiled when she spoke, and her slate-colored eyes were bright and alive.
When Daisy asked Shannon question after question, he answered. They talked about his childhood, Aiden chimed in about Loraine’s cooking, and Daisy went on and on over nonsense like favorite video games, whether he enjoyed science fiction movies, and what the last book he read was.
Shannon decided, after an argument over Star Wars ensued, that he liked Daisy. She was interesting and honest and she made Aiden smile, which was one of her most flattering traits. Aiden wouldn’t genuinely smile at someone who didn’t deserve it.
Daisy—like everything else Aiden collected—was priceless, beautiful, and Shannon couldn’t help being fascinated.
“Blizzard’s rumored to be one of the top companies in OC to work for,” Shannon said. “Congratulations.”
“Thanks, man. I’m still in shock over it. I can’t believe they actually took me on.” She shrugged and tilted a beer bottle against her lips. “I guess I start with scenery design, and then hopefully in a year or two they’ll hire me on permanently, and I can move into weapon creation. That’s what I really want to do.”
“Go get your sketchbook,” Aiden said.
Daisy shot him a nasty glare. “No.”
“Yes, go get it.”
Daisy didn’t move.
Aiden slid off Shannon’s lap and stood up, which Shannon appreciated, since his right leg was numb. He returned with a leather-bound black book stuffed with variously sized papers. Daisy didn’t bother trying to stop him; it was obvious she’d known him long enough not to put in the effort.
“They aren’t that good; the stuff on my laptop is better,” Daisy mumbled.
The sun had long since set, and the only source of light was a dim bulb next to the door, but it was enough. Aiden got comfortable in Shannon’s lap again and opened the sketchbook. All sorts of creatures, faeries, mermaids, dragons, and elves, filled each page: beautiful, unique pieces, some smudged in pencil, others inked.
Shannon glanced at Daisy and found that she was watching. Something daring sparked behind her eyes. Looking at her reminded him that wolves ran in packs.
“These are incredible,” Shannon said.
Daisy nodded as if she’d heard it before. “Thanks, Abercrombie.”
And they laughed, and laughed, and laughed.
31
It wasn’t warm enough, not yet.
January spun a web of cold nights that turned into colder mornings, and every stretch of silk that expanded toward the edge brought them closer to spring. Soon January was gone, and with it went the tail end of winter. February was a sigh of relief, waking into blue skies and mid-day rainfall, brave surfers, and iced coffee instead of hot.
Shannon watched his life move, forward and then back, into Aiden’s tentative touches in the middle of the night, and out of the case he’d dived into at work. His days were spent convincing himself that the gun on his waist wasn’t as heavy as it felt, and his nights were spent being reminded that he was in love.
He was in love and he was too scared to do anything about it.
It wasn’t new enough, or bright enough, or great enough, and Shannon wished it was.
He wished, he wished, he wished, and he wondered what the fireflies would’ve said if he’d asked.
Will he love me back? Will he love me at all?
But some days weren’t spent worrying about cases he wasn’t sure he could handle, or Karman’s overuse of the word homicide, or Piper’s constant texts to check up on them. Some days Shannon pushed all those thoughts to the back of his mind. Some days, like this day, he spent with Aiden. There was no better way to put Shannon’s busy mind on standby than pleasure, and, as fate would have it, pleasure was Aiden’s second language.
He learned it quickly, same as someone learning to roll their r’s in Spanish and swallow their vowels in French. His hands memorized the places on Shannon’s body that tensed beneath them, the hidden jolts and jerks and gasps that left Shannon wondering how Aiden could’ve ever been nervous about this.
Shannon looked at him, spread out on the loft’s floor. Aiden’s pale skin was lit with a glowing blush, his eyes were half-open, and his head tilted back. He wrapped his lips around Shannon’s index finger; his tongue rubbed sure and slow against it.
Aiden keened, and his hips canted as Shannon rolled his waist between them. His teeth scraped Shannon’s knuckles. There was nothing sexier than looking at Aiden, a locked door that everyone wanted to open, and holding the key.