Page 72 of The Mourning Throne
Irregular, loud little ovals smeared across tile and rug like the afterthought of a creature who’d neveronceconsidered the consequences of walking around dripping.
He dropped a second towel onto the floor.
Someone had to keep things civilized.
The television flicked on from the other room, tuned to the morning news. Static hum. But Lex’s voice—predictably—cut through the noise.
“Hey! Hey, Morgan! It’s Pete!”
Morgan didn’t move. Just stared at the razor blade he’d left beside the sink.
Waiting.
There was always more.
“I mean…” Lex paused, then laughed. “They don’t know hisnameyet. But that’s the same trailhead, and I recognize his shoes. They look even worse on camera.”
Morgan craned his head out of the bathroom. A grainy news image of yellow and white police tape stretched across the overlook filled the screen. Some intern with a camera was panning too fast, catching more glare than detail.
He rubbed his temples, feeling the pressure of Lex’s excitement bubbling beside him.
Of course Lex would treat murder like morning cartoons. Why wouldn’t he?
This was still too early, and he had too much to do before they left.
Morgan rinsed the razor, watching the remnants of shaving cream vanish down the drain. He reached for the straightener—
Lex wriggled into the bathroom and dropped onto the toilet seat. Already dressed for the day. His fingers drummed on his thighs—fast, arrhythmic, impatient.
“Come on,” he whined, “don’t pretend it’s not like, alittlecool. Eternal glory. Bodies in another country. All that good shit.”
“More like an eternal headache,” Morgan muttered. “I’ve kept my name out of everyone’s mouth for this long. I don’t plan on backpedaling here.”
He picked up the flat iron, starting at the top section.
The way he did every morning. The way he’d done for years.
Lex leaned in, the back of his hand smacking Morgan’s towel. “You know, it actually looks better kinda wavy.”
“Like your bird’s nest?” Morgan asked without glancing over.
Lex snorted. “I’m serious! You look like you’re going forworlds most boring businessman.”
Morgan flicked his eyes to Lex in the mirror. Raised an eyebrow.
“And you look like you sleep in a dumpster. We have different standards.”
Lex barked out a laugh, the kind that bounced off tile and glass and turned the room too full.
The flush blooming under all that tan was familiar. Expected in a way he didn’t mind.
“Okay.Okay.” Lex held up his hands in mock surrender. “That was a good one. I’ll give it to you.”
“Go feed your cat, Lex.”
“Why? So you can stand here and bitch about my hair in peace?” Lex kicked his foot against the cabinet beneath the sink. “I’m gonna shave it.Thenwhat?”
Morgan didn’t reply. Just set the straightener down, slid his fingers through the front of his hair to check he hadn’t missed a spot.
