Page 4 of The Primary Pest
If only they’d met under different circumstances…
“What do you suppose it means,” he asked, “‘the bringer of death comes with torrents of blood and fire?’ Is that like a side order? Do you suppose we can substitute rice and beans?”
“Who can say?” Dmytro’s face remained blank. “We’ll ask him when he comes to kill you.”
“Guh, I wish he’d do it and get it over with.” Ajax let his head fall back against the seat cushion. “This feels like one ofthe family vacations my parents couldn’t be bothered to show up for.”
Dmytro gave him a sarcastic poor-little-rich-boy glare as if he’d seen Ajax’s kind of privilege enough that it didn’t faze him anymore. “At least your parents cared enough to hire us.”
“Because of the death threats?” Ajax asked. “Everyone gets death threats online these days. Certainly anyone worth reading about.”
“Ajax Freedom” had done the unthinkable. He’d flipped the tables on his audience and insulted their collective intelligence by showing what he really thought of them. So, duh, he got death threats. He only needed protection until Iphicles Security Services found out whether his detractors were a credible threat, but it didn’t have to behim, did it? It didn’t have to be this Dmytro dude.
Dmytro looked at him like he was nothing—as if he thought he knew who and what Ajax Freedom was. Everyone thought they knew, because Ajax had embodied his bougie tastemaker persona for a long time. He’d slept around. Indulged himself with the finest of everything. He drank too much and talked conservative political shit when he did, and everyone had listened.
He’d become an Instagram celebrity by hanging out with people who used each other to get ahead, and his message was basically, “I only say what we’re all thinking.”
Unfortunately, he’d gotten tired of Ajax Freedom, and he’d let the truth come out. Online, in interviews, and in person, he’d let the world know that the person he was deep down inside wasn’t interesting or edgy or entertaining. That person held a deep disdain for his audience, despite making bank on their interest in him.
Of coursethings hadn’t gone well after that.
If there was anyone in the entire world who didn’t know the scam Ajax Freedom had perpetrated, who didn’t hate him, who didn’t want to see him drummed off the internet forever, he didn’t know who that person could be.
He’d wanted to go back to being plain old Ajax Fairchild.
Except he didn’t like Ajax Fairchild much either.
At the drive-through, Dmytro leaped from the car and the wheelman, Bartosz, kept driving.
“What’s that about?” Ajax hadn’t expected to see his bodyguard leave first thing. Way to go. He’d already pissed the guy off so badly, he’d rather walk than be in the car with him.
“Dmytro will go in, and we will circle the block and pick him up. Better than to be boxed between cars in the drive-through lane with no route of escape.”
“Oh.” He slumped farther in his seat. Right.It’s not always about you.“But he doesn’t know what I want.”
“I’ll call him, and you can let him know.” Bartosz did something and Dmytro’s curt voice came from the car speakers.
“Bartosz, if you talk about corn dogs again—”
“The client has something he wishes to ask you. You’re on speaker.”
After a second’s pause, Dmytro answered, “Yes? How may I assist?”
Ajax clutched his ultrasoft fabric scarf. “Can I get a blue raspberry slush? With Nerds?”
“If that’s a thing, I’ll get you one.” Restaurant noises—trays and chatter and chairs scraping on tile in the background—made it hard to hear.
“And tots?” Ajax tried to imagine the menu. Since they’d stripped the batteries out of all his electronics, he couldn’t look up the menu. “Maybe some kind of fried thing?”
A long pause. “Everything is fried here. Could you please be more specific?”
“Chicken tenders… No. Chicken nuggets… No! Popcorn chicken.”
There was a long silence. “Is that your final answer?”
“I’m not finished.” Ajax leaned his cheek against the window. “Make sure you get ranch dressing. Lots of it.”
“Didn’t you say you get carsick?”
