Page 89 of Two Chambered Heart

The crowd moved slowly, a loud hum of chatter and laughter mingling with clinking glasses and the patter of heels on marble. Jason was still looking for anyone of interest. He was so on edge that he actually jumped when his brother put a hand on his arm.

“Dude, chill. You look strung out. No more drinks tonight.” Kayden discretely took the crystal from Jason’s hand, only a few more sips left in it, and put it on a nearby table while they walked towards the dining room.

Was that his fifth drink or sixth drink? He couldn’t remember. It was nothing compared to how much he’d been drinking lately, but maybe Kayden was right. It wasn’t making him feel better, just spiking his anxiety further.

The dinning room was vast, with tables positioned in an arch around a dance floor and podium. To Jason’s chagrin, Wilkinson was already seated at their assigned table. He nodded his head at the man and forced a smile while they took their seats down the table.

Dinner passed by quickly, with speeches and announcements on recent public health reform and medical care law in between each course—all given by men—and then it was the auction. He still wasn’t paying attention, scanning the room, pushing on his brain to try to access others aroundthe block that Corey posed. The auction numbers crawled up in $50,000 increments, the first piece going for $450,000. The prices just grew more obscene as they went.

This city was a plutocracy like any in the world, but it was obvious here more than anywhere. Corey’s eyes were blazing with hatred as she watched arm after arm raise their number to place a bid, each one clad in jewels and watches worth as much as the art they were bidding on. Her sapphire eyes were glaring daggers at everyone with a number, like each and every one of these people had failed her personally. He doubted Corey had ever been to an event like this, where wealth inequality was not only on display, but paraded around in an echo chamber of privilege.

Wilkinson was talking to three suits that he didn’t recognize.

“Do you know them?” Jason asked Kayden, jutting his chin towards the men.

Kayden shook his head. “Never seen them before.”

That was unusual. They usually knew everyone important in the room, and Wilkinson had been talking to them for most of the auction. The men hadn’t been seated at their table, so at some point in the auction, they must have deliberately sought him out. Worse was they seemed to keep glancing over at Jason as they spoke, although Jason couldn’t be sure if that was his paranoia.

He tried to get a handle on the conversation through his mind, pushing at the seams of his brain, trying to access the autonomic part of him that could read minds. He’d never actively tried using his gift like this before. It had always just been there, something he couldn’t control or turn off. He’d never needed to turn itonbefore.

He could feel a vein in his head throb as he kept trying.

“Jason,” Corey hissed from beside him, grabbing his arm. Again, his focus had been interrupted.

“What?” he bit out, agitated.

“Your nose is bleeding,” she whispered, bringing one of the cloth napkins up towards his face. He pushed her arm away and touched his nose, feeling the wetness on his upper lip. His hand came away bloody.

“Shit.” She handed the napkin to him and he took it, holding it to his nose. Luckily, the auction kept everyone at the table distracted, so nobody noticed him blotting the blood away. But it was still dripping.

Corey stood up and tugged at his arm. “You need to get to a bathroom.”

He acquiesced, following behind her as she led him to the back of the dark room, napkin still pressed to his face.

“Excuse me,” she asked a server, “where are the washrooms?” Corey listened to the directions and pulled Jason along.

The bathroom was gendered, but Corey locked the door behind them. He walked up to the sink, looking in the mirror. Fortunately, he hadn't gotten any blood on his white shirt. He dumped the sullied napkin in the sink and tilted his head back, pulling off his suit jacket and unbuttoning his shirt. Halfway down, he needed to grab the napkin again and put it back to his face to stop the blood from running.

“May I?” Corey asked, reaching out for the last few buttons.

“Go ahead,” he said, sounding squeaky with his nose plugged. She giggled and undid the rest of his shirt, pulling it from his shoulders. He was forced to put the cloth back in the sink in order to slide off the other sleeve. She folded his shirt up and put it on the counter.

He ran water from the sink and washed his bloodied face. More blood came out of one nostril when he righted his head, so he grabbed a paper towel, catching Corey ogling his cut torso in the mirror.

“Like what you see?” he smirked. She blushed and averted her eyes.

He leaned against the counter, tipping his head back, trying to get the blood flow back to his brain.

“When was the last time you had a nosebleed?”

He moved the paper from his face this time before speaking. “Not for a long time.”

It was still bleeding. He could feel the thick trail leaving his nostril and he tipped his head back again, taking more paper towels. The familiar scent of blood was almost soothing.

Corey looked away from him, searching for something in the bathroom. “Oh, good! They have tampons.”

She made her way over to a metal dispenser mounted on the wall.

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