Page 13 of Truth Be Told
There’s a lot I could say to that. Like, Icanbe resilient, but resilience doesn’t count when your body has frozen up on you in response to the fear.
“Cohen,” he says in the silence.
Cohen.I run the name across my mind’s tongue, testing it out. It’s a nice-sounding name. Strong.
The rest of what said was wrong, too. The people who were standing nearby had no idea of the situation I was in. They couldn’t see me, and they couldn’t hear me, either, even if I had been able to bring myself to scream.
I decide to humor him. “So if I was going to be fine, why did you step in then? I guess you’re right, I could have taken care of myself. I keep a knife on me, you know.”
He started to talk before he hears me finish. “Instinct. It was instinct. Wait– you what?”
He doesn’t need to know that I didn’t have it on me at the time. “At least, I try to.”
He raises his brow. “Then it sounds like I was right. I really didn’t need to step in. So if you carry a blade, how did you get yourself in that situation? Why didn’t you shank the punks?”
I try to contain it, but a laugh bursts out of me.
“What? You would have been right to do it.”
Shaking my head, I say, “No, I know. It’s nothing. I’ve just never heard anyone use the word ‘shank’ in real life. Isn’t that, like, a prison term?”
“Is it?” He’s being a good sport. He’s not giving me any weird, condescending looks like some people do when I’m a little too outspoken too soon.
I clear my throat. “Anyway, I didn’t have time to go back and get it with the fire alarm.”
It’s time to change the subject. I don’t want him to think I’m talking about my knife as some kind of threat, like I don’t trust him or something. I know we don’t really know each other, and maybe it’s just because of what he did for me, but I feel safe with him. “So that’s your name? Just Cohen?”
He hesitates. “Thatcher.”
I nod. “I’m Stella.”
“I know.”
I lean forward, confused. If he were anyone else, I would be suspicious right now. That’s what this job does to you, especially after events such as the one I just went through. But I’d completely forgotten that he said my name when he came to rescue me. “That’s right. You knew my name. How did you know that?”
He pulls his attention away from the road, just for a second, to give me a knowing glare.
I sit back.Right.“The club gives out our first names,” I say. And they’re not hard to spot, either. Our names are stamped all over the night’s paperwork and advertisements.
“Yeah. But I didn’t know for sure that was your real name. To be honest, I thought it was your stripper name or something.”
“What?”
“Well, don’t you all use stripper names?”
Boy, he wasn’t lying. Strip clubs really don’t fit him.
I slump against the heated leather seat and gaze out the window. “It’s not a bad idea. But we don’t have to use them.”
I see his knuckle clench at the wheel, twisting it lightly before he realizes what he’s doing. He stops and switches driving hands. “Is that the first time something like that’s happened?”
“Yeah, it is. Why?”
He doesn’t answer, but I can tell that something’s on his mind.
“Why?” I pry. A smile spreads across my face. “Are you going to take care of those guys for me or something?”
He’s quick to brush me off, but not before I catch the returning smile he’s trying to hide. He’s fun to tease. “Nothing like that.”
