“Nixie hired someone new,” he says randomly. “A mentalist.”
I stop dead in my tracks. What the heck would they need someone like that for? “What would a mentalist do on the island?”
“Nixie says a psychology act would be good. He starts next weekend.”
I pick up a cloth and wipe down the counter I am using. “You don’t sound happy about it.”
“I’m not unhappy,” he says, dumping a basket of clean rags on the counter to fold them. “I met him this week.”
“Is he a douche? Does Clay have competition?”
“Not sure about that, but he is good. The guests will love him.”
“But . . .”
Ares looks up at me. “I didn’t say there was another but.”
“You didn’t have to—I can hear it in your voice. What’s his name?”
Ares sighs. “Luca. He came with great references and passed his background check.”
“But you don’t like him.”
Ares looks at the monitors, at the people who have already started lining up outside. “There is a type of person who is very good at making you feel like the most important thing in the world. They are good because they have practiced, and it works, but they use it for the wrong reasons. Luca is that type.”
“Maybe he is just charming.”
Ares hands me a pile of cloths, grabs his own, and I follow him. “Charming is a personality trait. What I’m describing is a tactic. He sat in the bar for forty minutes while Nixie ran through the protocols, and I watched him work on every person in the room. They all gave out information they didn’t realize, and he never even had to ask.”
“And you didn’t warn Nixie?”
“I did, but she thinks I dislike him because he is a lot like me. Maybe he is. Plus, his act is impressive, and hewill be good for business. But I don’t think he is here for the same reasons as everyone else.”
He just shared something real with me, that this mentalist is a lot like him. But I am almost certain he doesn’t realize that he has done it.
Around lunchtime, the replacement staff arrive, and I catch Ares watching me.
“What are you observing?” I ask him as I fold my cloth over the rail, because that’s what he is doing. When it comes to him, it’s not people watching, it’s observing and taking in everything they do.
“You’re more than I expected, which is inconvenient.”
I laugh unintentionally. “Inconvenient?” I repeat.
“Yes. Come with me,” he says, not elaborating.
He picks his keys up off the bar, and I pull my jacket on as we walk out into the alley together.
“I meant what I said,” he eventually admits, keeping pace beside me. “About the door being open on your terms.”
I’m surprised by the turn of the conversation and peer at him cautiously.
“I handled what happened between us badly,” he continues.
“Yeah, you did.”
We reach the end of the alley. “Thank you for your help.”
“You’re welcome. I had fun working with you,” I say honestly.