I don’t say anything. I’m not quite sure whattosay. The Bram that Mina described to me last night, not to mention the Bram I’ve seen with my own eyes, doesn’t seem like that kind of person at all. If anything, it was actually Dean who made me feel uncomfortable. I smiled through it, of course, but there was something about his veneer of niceness that made my skin crawl.
Jon clears his throat, obviously not waiting for a response. ‘He went full Ozzy and bit the head off a live bat a couple of years ago. Viral Bat Guy, the internet called him. Look it up.’
I almost choke on my mouthful of gin. ‘Abat?’
My mind flashes back to the image of Bram, barely able to hold little Lestat in his hands, and I can’t quite make the leap to him mutilating a live animal on camera. Could it have been an act earlier? Surely not. That fear in his eyes looked one hundred percent real.
‘I saw the video. It’s grim.’ Jon’s chair creaks again. ‘He doesn’t even pause.’
The image makes me feel a little sick.
‘But you know,’ he says, stringing his words out a little, like he’s cooking up a plan on the fly, ‘we might be able to move this story into a different gear.’
I feel the energy shift as clearly as if Jon was standing in front of me, and it makes me frown into my drink. I don’t know what it is that Jon’s about to suggest, but I know I’m not going to likeit. ‘I’m not sure I know what you mean,’ I say, as evenly as I can manage.
His momentary pause does nothing to reassure me. ‘What if’—he starts slowly—‘and just hear me out here– you manage to get a little closer to him, and you can really get to the heart of some of these stories.’
There’s an uneasy roll of something deep in my chest. I’m not sure if it’s the idea of getting close to Bram that makes me feel like I can’t get enough air, or the idea of doing it under false pretences.
‘Closer?’
‘I mean, you don’t have to sleep with him or anything, though God knows you wouldn’t be the first’—he laughs a little, that quiet chuckle that I usually love—‘but I’m sure you could use your feminine wiles to dig up some dirt on him.’
I’d laugh out loud if I weren’t so shocked. My feminine wiles are limited at best, and, I’d thought, reserved only for Jon. I can’t quite believe he’s even suggesting it. I’m Lucy Partridge, for God’s sake. I once ugly cried at a donkey sanctuary because it turned out that the donkey I was writing a story on was best friends with a goose. It was so wholesome I couldn’t bear it.
‘I don’t know,’ I manage, worrying my lip between my teeth. ‘I’m not sure I’m cut out for something like that. You know I’m a positive news person.’
‘Fluff,’ he says, and his voice is softer now. Encouraging. ‘You are beautiful and brilliant. No man in his right mind would turn you down.’
The compliment throws me. On the one hand, it’s everything that I ever wanted to hear from Jon, but hearing it like this has taken some of the shine off.
‘I know you’re normally a good news kind of girl, Fluff,’ he continues, ‘and I love that about you.’ My heart leaps with his word choice, despite the knot of discomfort in my belly. ‘Butyou know as well as I do that scandal sells more papers than celebration does.’
I hate that about the human race, but I know he’s right. I look over at the window opposite me and just happen to see Bram himself, his inked arms straining around something. He sees me looking and smiles, just a little. Not enough to bare his fangs.
God, thosefangs. I did a double take when I saw them. I knew I hadn’t imagined them last night. It was weird that he was still wearing them in the shower, but I’m sure he just forgot to take them off or something.
Pretty sure, anyway.
I smile back at him automatically, but I feel a bit guilty as I do. I need to find out who the real Bram is, because the man who Jon’s describing is at odds with everything else I’ve learned about Bram so far. But it has been less than a day. Maybe I just need to dig deeper.
‘Fluff?’ Jon asks, so gently I can barely hear him over the thrum of music from the bar behind me.
‘Yeah?’
‘Don’t overthink it.’
A small laugh escapes me before I know it’s coming. ‘I wouldnever!’
His laugh in return is soft and breathy, and it makes giddiness bubble in my chest. ‘You’ve got this. Sex it up a bit. Make stuff up if you have to.’ His voice drops a little. ‘And I’ll take you out to celebrate when you absolutely smash the story. Just the two of us.’
My traitorous heart slams so hard into my ribs that I don’t fully take in the first part of what he said. Jon asking me out properly is all I’ve wanted for the last four years, and the swell of excitement crashes over my earlier discomfort like a wave.
This isJon. And he wantsme.
I’m not particularly proud of it, but that’s the part I hear more loudly than anything else.
‘Lucy,’ he mutters, with a drag to his voice, and either that or the fact that he uses my real name for once sends a bolt of pleasure right through me. ‘Do whatever it takes.’ He blows a breath out. ‘Night, beautiful.’