Page 129 of Twisted Legacy

“Sure. If you’re gonna interview me, might as well.”

“Then perhaps we should sit together?”

I plop down in the chair across from him. “Next question.”

I understand nothing at all about this organization, but I recognize a big shot when I see one. That other dude backed off without hesitation and ran to the other side of the bar. And from the way people are avoiding this table, giving it a wide berth. Stuttering hellos to Papa Pax. I’d say he’s pretty high up, too. Was he one of the men making deals with Moira’s father? Did he have a hand in me getting thrown away like trash?

If so, he’ll be higher up on my list of people to hate and avoid.

“How are you adjusting?” He asks, finally breaking the silence.

“To what?” It’s a question inside a question. I can see that, but it’ll be more fun to play stupid, just to see how much information he wants to reveal.

“To the news of your heritage.”

I shrug. I’m adjusting. He doesn’t need to know what I’m doing to cope. Moira and Scott, whether they be my aunt and uncle or my parents, are still relative strangers. Now I know they’re strangers who lie. They’re sorry, they’re trying to make amends. That’s between us.

In answer to his question, I say, “It’s a little hard to wrap my head around, but in the end, it’s just historical data that has nothing to do with me. I’m still the same person I was before someone went poking their nose in my business and decided I’m suddenlyworthy.” The words drip with sarcasm. The thoughts and opinions of this old fart and his cronies don’t mean shit to me.

“I imagine the change in your status is jarring. And I can respect that you’re getting demands from so many people. Are the other students at school helping you acclimate?”

Ordinarily, I wouldn’t engage with someone trying to get all up in my business, but I appreciate Papa Pax taking time to ask me questions. God knows nobody else has.

“You strike me as a man who knows the answers to most of your questions before you ask them, so I have a question for you.”

“By all means.”

“Do you want my honest answer and for me to tell you, my favorite people on campus are normal kids and the guy in the kitchen who makes the cheese fries, or do you want me to tell you they’ve all been lovely?”

“Do you always say every thought that passes through your mind?”

“Ninety-seven percent of the time, I do.”

“And the other three?”

We sit in silence. Him trying to get a read on me. Me making sure he can’t. With a decisive nod, he simply says, “I see.” He finishes his water, then says, “Enjoy your meal.”

My gaze darts across the table. There’s no money or credit card envelope on it, and the server hasn’t brought one over since I’ve been sitting here. “You’d better not be leaving me with your check.”

His eyes crinkle at the corner. I can’t tell if it’s humor or anger. His tone measured and even when he says, “I wouldn’t dream of it.”

He leaves and I stay at his table and order my food. I scroll through my phone while I eat and text Sasha, LJ, and Austin. When I ask for my check, I’m told the old man already covered it.

I pigged out at the restaurant yesterday, now I need to work off the extra calories. I groan as I stretch my arm across my chest, to loosen up my shoulder. Wolfe has upped the resistance on the bands, and my shoulder and arms are stiff. Pax enters the gym. I’m used to my appearance pissing him off, and I’ve come to the conclusion that he can’t help himself. Whenever he sees me, he feels compelled to talk to me. It’s always bullshit that he’s spewing but he’s incapable of walking by and keeping his mouth shut.

“What are you up to?” He snarls as he stalks over to me. “Why the hell are you stalking my grandfather?”

He always shows his hand. He makes it too easy to harass him. “Heard about our little lunch date, did you? I gotta say. He pulled out all the stops.” I fan myself. “He really knows how to make a girl feel special. I’m too young to be called grammy, so when we get married, you can just stick to calling me by my first name.”

“Cut your shit, Thea, and just tell me what you said to him.”

“Why don’t you ask him?”

“I already have. Now I wanna see if you lie about it.”

Pax has a great poker face. His grandfather’s is better. Pax wants answers and hopes I’m stupid enough to give him some. You’d think he’d have learned by now that I’m a fucking vault when I want to be.

“You’re so full of shit. You didn’t ask him a damn thing.” I pat his chest. “But I’ll throw you a bone.Heasked me stuff, andIgave him my honest answers.”

---