Page 44 of Prodigal Son

She set her sandwich down. Carefully chewed and swallowed. “Don’t take this the wrong way – or do, whatever – but I don’t need anybody’s sympathy.”

He looked at her levelly. “I didn’t say you did. I just thought I’d offer it anyway.”

“Well, don’t.”

“Alright.” He motioned toward Luke and a beer was set down in front of him. “You asked about the plan?”

“Yeah.”

“The plan is for you to stay here–”

“Oh, you have got to be kidding me.”

“–while we work on Pseudonym.”

When she was twelve, she punched a boy at school because he called her dad a washed-up junkie loser who’d never been a good driver anyway. She wasn’t proud to admit that she hadn’t telegraphed the blow; it had been a fast sucker punch, right to the throat. He’d gasped, and wheezed, and had to be helped to the nurse’s office. She’d had five days OSS. Not that it mattered. Fuck school anyway, seriously.

Daddy had said,“You’ve got to control your temper a little better than that, Ellie girl. Being hotheaded won’t get you anywhere in life, and you’ve got too much talent to let it go to waste because you couldn’t keep your hands to yourself.”But he’d smiled, and ruffled her hair, and she’d known he was secretly proud that she’d laid up a boy half again her size.

She’d tried to learn some patience in the intervening years. And that was the reason she counted to ten in her head, took another methodical bite of sandwich. Sipped her Coke.

Then said, calmly, “You biker boys really don’t think much of women, do you?”

He drew in a breath to respond–

And a woman’s voice shouted, “Ah! You. Getaway driver girl. You’ll do.”

Axelle twisted around on her stool and found Albie’s sister standing in the center of the pub, all done up in a sleek black dress, heels, and the kind of artfully slouchy jacket that sent regular people into bankruptcy.

Raven pushed her sunglasses up onto her forehead, grinned like a predatory creature, and crooked a finger. “If Eden’s not around, you can bemyassistant.”

Axelle took a moment to consider her alternatives. Sitting around, doing nothing, feeling helpless, (waiting on someone else to leave her) had always made her skin itch. There wasn’t much of a choice to make.

She picked up the rest of her sandwich and slid off the stool. “Why the hell not?”

~*~

Twenty minutes, a wardrobe change, and a stern lecture from Phillip Calloway later, Axelle was riding shotgun in Raven’s Land Rover, and trying to make sense of things.

“Okay, I don’t get it.”

“Hmm?” Raven changed lanes and whipped around a Mercedes. She wasn’t Axelle’s kind of driver, but she wasn’t bad.

Axelle tried to be tactful. “Well. We’re in your Rover. And you’re dressed like that. And your brothers…”

Raven laughed. “Ah, yes, I see where you’re going with this. How am I such a success while they’re absolute catastrophes?”

“More or less.”

She chuckled. “I like to tell them it’s because they’re all idiots. But.” Her tone shifted. “We’re half-siblings, you see. Dad stuck it to literally everyone, but he never stuck around. We were all brought up by our mothers. Our very different mothers.” She slanted a look over to see if Axelle understood.

She did.

“My mum was a model,” Raven explained in a gentler tone. “Who became a designer. She has her own agency. I slid right into the business, seamlessly. Not exactly a sob story.” She made a self-deprecating noise. “Some of the others didn’t have it so easy. Charlie, Albie, Tommy. King did alright – eventually. His mum was loving, had good grandparents. He’s in the States now. Lives on a horse farm, which his tiny jockey heart just loves. Cassandra is, well.” She sighed. “I’m helping with her, as much as I can. Phillip’s been as much of a father to us all as he could, bless the old asshole.”

“All your brothers are Lean Dogs?” Axelle asked.

“Yeah. They didn’t have much of a choice, did they? Phillip was the first, and he was the oldest. He thought it was the best way to take care of the others, bringing them into the club.”

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