Context for why he is the way he is.
It doesn't excuse the blackmail. Doesn't excuse the hostility or the mind games or any of the shit he's put me through. Understanding why someone acts a certain way isn't the same as accepting it.
Still. It's something to think about.
"Anyway." Jamie's smile turns sheepish, the sunshine returning like clouds parting. "Sorry. I didn't mean to get all heavy. We're supposed to be having fun coffee time, not therapy hour."
"No, I…" I shake my head. "I appreciate it. Really."
"Anytime." He gives me a sweet smile. "Now, tell me about the music. What are you guys working on? Anything I can listen to yet?"
We talk for a while after that. About the songs Phoenix wants to workshop, about the latest mask commissions and the ongoing saga of Cheeto's dietary preferences. It's easy conversation, the kind I haven't had in longer than I want to admit.
Eventually, my bladder decides it's had enough coffee.
"I'll be right back," I say, pushing to my feet. "Nature calls."
"Take your time! I need to check my messages anyway. Orion's been sending me pictures of Cheeto's sad squishy face to show me he's sorry."
I head toward the back of the coffee shop where the bathrooms are located, weaving between mismatched furniture and hipsters on laptops. The hallway is narrow, lit by more Edison bulbs, with two doors marked by wooden signs depicting a fish on one and an octopus on the other.
Theonlyindication the octopus is the men's room is the top hat.
I push through the one on the left.
And Rex walks in right behind me.
"What the fuck?" I stumble backward, heart slamming against my ribs. "Are youseriousright now?"
Rex looms over me, arms crossed, expression unreadable. He's wearing all black again—surprise, surprise—and somehow manages to make the cramped bathroom feel smaller just by existing in it.
"You're the one who walked into the wrong bathroom," he says flatly.
"I'm in disguise," I hiss. "In case you forgot. Which means I have to use the men's room."
"Then go ahead."
"With you standing there?"
He doesn't move. Doesn't blink. Just watches me with that single visible eye that somehow manages to convey complete indifference and intense scrutiny at the same time.
"I need to check the stalls first."
"You need to—" I stop myself. Breathe. Try again. "Rex. What are you doing here?"
"Making sure your stalker didn't follow you."
"Phoenix and Rafael are already doing that."
"I know." He moves past me, checking each of the three stalls. Opens doors, glances inside, closes them. "They're terrible at surveillance. I spotted them the moment I walked in."
"And they didn't spot you?"
"No."
Of course not. Because Rex is Rex, and apparently that means he can materialize out of thin air like a fucking ghost.
He finishes his sweep and turns back to face me. "Clear. Go ahead."