Page 10 of Devoted
Family-style dining is a given with all of us. The three of us sit down and stack up our plates with bacon, muffins, and somehuevos rancheros. The food is amazing, as always. I’m not much of a cook, but with Alek, Rhett, and Em in the family? It’s tasty food for life with those three.
“Y’all need me to stay again tonight?” Rhett asks. He’s washing the pans and dishes after shooing Emma and me away when we offered to help, saying it was only right since he was a guest in our home.
“No, I’m gonna surprise Caleb with a date night, so I won’t be here,” Emma comments, and I note how she doesn’t sound excited for what should be a fun date. I’ll have to ask her about it later. I know she might not be comfortable talking about her relationship in front of Rhett.
“And I’m going to Alek’s tonight after work, so we’ll be okay. Honestly, it probably was just some kid playing a prank.”
CHAPTER SIX
KNIGHT
A wounded pride and a wounded ass.
Try as I might, I don’t think I am doing a believable job of hiding my limp. After falling out of the tree last night and splattering into the mud, I barely managed to drag myself back to my car parked a few blocks from Vivian and Emma’s apartment.
It was only when I got home that I noticed how truly fucked up I appeared. The entire back and side of my pants were torn. My arms, neck, and shoulders were covered in minor scratches—thankfully, none from the rabid animal.
The fact that I didn’t break anything after being chased off the tree branch is a miracle. What is more shocking is how I didn’t get caught. I can’t even imagine how I would have explained the situation.
Sorry, I fell out of your tree, Vivian. I’m deeply infatuated with you, and I’ve been stalking you for a month now. But I’m not insane, I swear.
“Knight, you look like shit,” a way too jovial voice remarks. The comment effectively stops me in my tracks. I was hoping to get to the office unnoticed, seeing as I did have a few things I wanted to work on for some upcoming events in the next couple of weeks.
“All right, who’s the dude who handed you your ass in a fight?” Benny asks just as I turn around to face him.
It was a raccoon, actually.
“I did not get into a fight with anyone.” Some truth is better than nothing. Technically, the raccoon never got close enough to properly engage.
“You tellin’ me that pretty mug gotthatmessed up and it wasn’t from a fight?” The large man crosses his arms and raises an eyebrow.
I like Benny. He’s been a good friend for a few years and one of the best dancers I’ve seen on my stage. But he’s annoying the hell out of me with this line of questioning. I am aware he’s probably concerned, but I am not having it this morning.
“Even if it was, it’s none of your business, Benjamin.” The way he tilts his head in amusement angers me further. I don’t love to admit it, but there are a few employees here I’ve known for so long that they’re immune to my particular style of brutishness. “Now, if you are done with your interrogation, I’d like to get some work done.”
“No one likes a guy with a stick up his ass, Knight,” Benny sings after me as I stagger away. “And you sure are walkin’ like you got one up there!”
Glancing at the clock on the wall, I take pride in getting late into the afternoon without a run-in with Vivian. Yes, I’ve mostly keptto myself in the burlesque club’s administrative office. No, I’m notactivelyavoiding the woman I’ve been stalking for a month.
After nearly being caught last night, I’m unsure I can face her with the same gravitas I hide behind during our typical interactions. Stress has invaded my thoughts, fixating on how she somehow found out I was the person outside her home last night. With an agitated mind grasping to distract itself with something, I triple-checked the plans for a charity event we are holding at the club next week.
There is a knock at the office door just as I am about to send over the itinerary and logistics paperwork to Evelyn.
“Come in,” I respond, both dreaming of and dreading seeing Vivian enter the room.
“A sweaty young man had to escort me to your office,” my mother comments, striding into the room and elegantly planting herself into one of the leather chairs in front of my desk. “I did not mean that to sound like a complaint, but I am winded from the maze of hallways back here. I was moments from asking to be carried bridal-style.” A smirk travels across her face.
“The dancers are here to dance, not to be your boy toys, Harriett.” I sigh and push away from the damn computer. My eyes have begun to sting from my deep dive into paperwork today, and the words have started to blend and blur more than normal.
“I’m well aware this comment will makemeseem old,” Harriett begins, “but I think you might need to invest in some reading glasses, dear.” She digs into her slim wallet and retrieves a business card for her optometrist. Setting it at the edge of my desk, she continues, “Please tell me you’ve been taking breaks and using your accommodations in this office as well.”
“Not everything is set up on this computer yet,” I confess as I rub my eyes. Being here so frequently was never my intention,and I haven’t had much of a chance to have someone properly install all the dyslexia-friendly apps and programs.
Typically, I physically write out my work as handwriting maintains my focus without straining my eyes and then dictate with a speech program during my busier days. But with everything else on my mind, I hadn’t even noticed the tension I’ve put on myself over the past few hours.
“Is there something more adding to the stress radiating from you today?” she asks. All the humor is out of her tone as she analyzes me. Her lips press together in distaste at my current state. Bruised, scratched, and looking like I haven’t slept in days.
“Bad sleep, that’s all.” My reply is curt. I can’t fucking tell her about what I’ve been up to.
