Sodark.. sodeep.. thesecretsthatyoukeep.
The alleyway sounded quiet but not deserted. Paul heard a big iron lid rattle faintly by the far side, where the alleyway led into an old brick stone building. He was in the southeast corner of Avenue C village. It was a neighborhood of crack houses and abandoned buildings, of crime and hustlers and drugs. It wasn’t a surprise. Xander would definitely venture and live in this place.
It was a good thing Paul doesn’t care, and he isn’t afraid of thugs. The threat wasn’t to turn him away. The big joke however, is he’s here, in lieu of spending Thanksgiving break in Georgetown. But Mikhail was clear to his orders. He had designated the responsibility of managing Caesar to him but the real top job is to keep an eye of Xander Basso. The problem is, he couldn’t locate the jackass, anymore. Not even his car.
Paul kicked a broken beer bottle to the edge of the curb, where the trash was overflowing from a neglected garbage can. He has a hunch where the guy is, and Mikhail definitely won’t be happy about this.
Balling his fists, he finally made a choice to call him. Knowing that he has important message if ever he calls, Mikhail answered at the second ring right away.
“News?” his friend-slash-boss inquired.
“Guess I have,” he hesitated, rubbing his jaws. “Xander’s not here.”
There was a pause, and then, “Explain.” Mikhail said, suddenly sounding riled up.
“I’m at his area. He’s nowhere in sight.”
“Any idea where he could be? Do I have to point out that it’s part of your job to know where he hangs out? I pay you to know these things.”
Shit. This is why he hates delivering bad news. His friend’s bugbear resurfaces.
“Chill out, Thorne. I have a feeling where he might be, actually.” Paul found himself saying, scratching his forehead from annoyance. “I think he went back to his town, Charleston.”
“And where is Adelaine?” Mikhail grumbled.
Paul’s gaze was cast to the ground. “She’s spending Thanksgiving at Charleston.”
Silence. And then Mikhail seethed, “Sonofabitch.” Paul kept his glare below, scornfully waiting for more blanching rants. Luckily, that was all he heard, but unfortunately, Mikhail’s bad temper was there. “Have one of the boys meet me at Charleston. Bring my car.” he barked.
“Yes, sir. Are you coming home?” Paul knew it would take approximately ten hours for the private jet to travel nonstop back to New Jersey.
“Yes.”
“What’re you going to do?”
“I will not let this going to happen!” Mikhail bellowed. “Everything has its place, and I’m going to put that kid where he should be.”
A/N: Iknow, Iknow! Anothercliffhanger, Icanhelpit! Butwhatdoyou think aretheyhidingfromAdelaine?
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The Unattainable (The Foreplay to Forgiveness)
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