Page 42 of Raven

Later in the evening, I make my way to my alcove and for a while, watch the sun setting over the orange ocean. The scenery helps me to decompress from the day’s events.

I pick up my phone, and right away, warmth spreads in my chest—a feeling of home, ephemeral and distant, yet the one I truly ever had. Mac is the only one who makes me feel like I have family.

My thumb hovers over his name on the screen. I always hesitate for just a second before calling him, dreading that there will come a day when he won’t pick up. Ever.

I press call.

The first ring is always anxious. The second even more so.

Then there’s a click and his deep voice, always somehow older for his age, always letting my chest rise with a relieved inhale. “Hey, kiddo.”

I smile. “Hey, Mac. How is it going, old man?”

I started calling him that more often after the heart scare incident when he refused to be flown to the Colorado hospital, so I had to get Archer to fly the former White House physician to Mac.

“Same old, same old. You doing good?”

“Yeah.”

He always waits for me to talk, a man of few words. “Zion?”

“Zion is Zion. Things are always happening.”

“You all right though?”

“I’m great.” I think of Maddy. “Perfect,” I add without realizing it.

“Hmm. What’s going on?”

“Just life, Mac.” I actually chuckle.

Mac hears everything. He reads people’s moods. Looks into people’s souls. He can hear a smile in a cold voice. See hurt in smiling eyes. He notices anger in strained breaths. He is uniquely perceptive.

“Everything is just…peachy,” I say, thinking about Maddy again.

“Good. That’s good. Good,” he says, his voice softening. “What’s her name?”

17

MADDY

Nine o’clock, Raven’s massage says on my phone.

It was sent four hours ago, though I didn’t need a reminder. Raven is coming tonight. We agreed. It’s our first time together, though I’m not sure what that “together” implies.

I’ve been sitting on my balcony for over an hour, watching the darkness fall, winding myself down, trying to stay calm but failing. After work, I thought of changing my clothes into something sexier, then decided that Raven will get what he asked for—the daily version of me.

So, I’m still in my work clothes—my summer cotton dress and white socks. My hair is pinned at the back of my head. I didn’t even bother changing my cotton panties and bra. Raven will just have to appreciate the simplicity of it, considering the simplicity of our deal.

It’s a ridiculous scenario, and I try not to get angry at the fact that he is taking over my life. I know he activated the camera on my porch—the other night, I noticed the red light. He is hanging out with Little, and there is no reason for that unless he is trying to use him to get close to me.

Tonight, I will have to do anything Raven wants.

What, exactly?

The thought keeps spinning in my head, and it creates a strange concoction—curiosity, excitement, and arousal. No anger at all.

My thoughts drift to what this could be like. I think about Raven naked. I wonder what sort of man he is in bed. Will I be able to stop him if he gets too rough? Despite my setting clear rules?

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