QUINN

Quinn: Emergency! Come over as soon as you get off work!

Gio: Everything okay?

Gio: Need me to leave early??

Quinn: No. I'm fine. Just come here straight after.

Gio: Ok

Darkness shrouds every inch of the shop, my all-black get-up camouflaging perfectly as I wait for Gio to strut through the doors three hours after our text exchange.

This is it. The moment I've been preparing for, strengthening the cheetah bond for. I may have had a killer stomachache after the first four bags of Cheetos but hopefully it was worth it.

My backpack is an arsenal of top tier weapons that I plan on torturing Gio into submission with. Everything is lined up exactly how it should be.

Crouching off to the side of the front entrance, I await my prey, phase one of the plan clutched tightly in my hand.

The silence looming over me as I wait to strike lures me into a world of my own thoughts, replaying the moment I turned the L-word into a conversation about sandwiches. I think I played it off nicely. Cash didn't seem to notice that I almost heart vomited all over him.

I can hardly believe it myself. Like, where the hell did that even come from? We were having a perfectly nice conversation and then my brain went stupid, relaying incorrect data to my mouth. I need to get that thing recalibrated before I end up – Oh shit!

A sliver of light slices through the blackness as Gio makes his wary appearance. The room is obscured once again as the door shuts behind him.

I leap toward it and twist the lock. When he spins around to face me, the bottle in my hand is lifted and my finger presses down, spraying him until he stumbles backward.

"What the hell?!" He lunges at me, but I pull a total badass Cash move and dodge his grip, squirting him again.

Dashing to the light switch on the other wall, I flip it on. It activates the blacklights in the sex shop, the only light source now the deep purple illumination and the glow-in-the-dark dildos on the wall.

Gio squints as he wipes the spray from his face with the heels of his palms.

"Quinn?" He asks, sounding confused. "Why are you attacking me?"

Suddenly, he seems relaxed. Unthreatened. He'll soon realize he's made a terrible mistake letting his guard down.

"What did you spray on me? It tastes like strawberries." He licks his lips and stares down at his sticky palms.

"It's flavored lube, Gio. And there's more where that came from." I taunt menacingly.

"Lube? You sprayed me with lube?" He asks incredulously. "Am I missing something? Where's Cass?"

He begins surveying the room, as if Cash could manage to hide his giant body behind a row of silicone penises. Why doesn't he sound more scared? This is not the reaction I expected.

Phase two, commence.

While I'm digging in the backpack, he steps forward, his shadow eating up my personal space.

Behind the bar, he looks smaller. He's just your friendly neighborhood bartender. Now, as he towers over me, I remember all the times I've seen him in action.

He's slimmer than Cash, but definitely just as tall. Imagine a lean version of Slenderman with dark blonde hair and shimmery blue eyes. Oh, and he has an actual face. And he doesn't abduct children. I don't think. I don't know what he does in his free time.

My confidence only wavers for like, six-point-two seconds before I'm continuing the quest for a weapon. Once I feel it in my fingers, I rip it from the bag and hold it to Gio's throat.

He freezes, his pupils transforming into saucers, throat bobbing as he swallows.

"Uh, Quinn?" He squeaks, a sound that doesn't suit his stature as his body goes stiff. "What're you doing?"

"Who is Sonny?" I deepen my voice, sounding like a trained assassin. Or Cookie Monster. Hopefully he's thinking assassin instead of Sesame Street, or I don't stand a chance.

"Why did your voice change?" He gulps, his eyes flitting down to my mouth.

"Answer the question!" Woaaah, reel it in, Quinn. You're starting to sound like a demon instead of a trained torture person.

He sighs, his shoulders sagging. "It's better if you don't know."

I pull the weapon back and jump up to smack him across the cheek with it. His head jerks to the side before he snatches it from my hand and holds it up between us, staring at me like I'm a stranger.

"You just fucking dick slapped me." He comments, bewildered, like he can't believe it happened.

He may have stolen that one, but I have three more in my stash!

"I can do this all night!" I yell, circling him like a shark. "Who is Sonny?"

"Quinn, I'm serious. You need to drop it."

I pull the next dildo out and fling it at him like a throwing knife. He tries to jump to avoid it, but it slaps against his chest. He crouches down and buries his face in his hands as he laughs hysterically.

Okay...you wanna play like that? Time to bring out the big guns!

A blue, fourteen-inch dildo the width of a soda-can is held out like a sword, centering right between his eyes. He peers up at me from his spot below and the fear is almost tangible.

"One last chance, Gio. Tell me who Sonny is."

His eyes almost cross as he tries to focus on the phallus.

"Who the fuck would buy that thing?!" He shouts, leaning back to escape it.

"A lonely housewife. And, one time, a ninety-year-old lady." I answer with my most serious voice to show him I mean business.

His eyes go wide at my response, and he stands despite the intimidating weapon trained on him. His expression becomes empty and lifeless as he backhands Big Betty right out of my grip. It flies across the room and crashes into a shelf.

Ugggghh!

"Just tell me!" I stomp my foot and pout.

"Fucking drop it!" He screams back, causing me to retreat a few paces.

When his features soften, he starts to reach out to me but drops his hand before it ever connects.

"I really can't tell you. Trust me, I'd love to. But...I can't."

The last item in the armory isn't of the silicone variety. It's more deadly. A cold, hard vibrator. With ten settings for your preferred level of pleasure. If I slap him with this thing, it'll definitely leave a mark.

I casually pluck it from the bag and try to flip it in the air before catching it again. I pull it off. Barely. But it still counts towards my cool points.

"You see this?" I ask, holding it up. The dim blacklight reflects off it, giving it a bit of extra shine. "I will slap you so hard that your face will become a vibrator. Is that what you want, Gio?"

"Quinn...please." He whispers, no longer able to look at me.

"You have five seconds to tell me what you know. Five."

He shifts all his weight onto his left leg.

"Four."

"Quinn, fucking leave it alo –"

"Three."

Nothing.

"Two."

"It's me!" He yells in frustration, throwing his hands up. "It's fucking me! I'm Sonny!"

Well...that can't be right...right?

The vibrator slips from my hands and clatters to the floor, taking on a life of its own as it buzzes around between our feet.

Our eyes stay locked and neither one of us dares to make a sound. Like, if we do, the world will catch fire, and everyone will perish.

Gio is connected to Cash's dad...in a way that Cash is upset about. I have questions. Sooo many questions. But I can't find the energy to ask them. The voice box has left the building. No more performances tonight, folks!

"You can't tell Cass. Not yet." Gio's shaky statement echoes through the quiet room, making me jump.

"I – I – I...you want me to lie to him?" My shoes are pretty interesting right now. I'll just focus on those instead of looking at the tortured soul shining through Gio's eyes.

"No, of course not." He shakes his head, blowing out a puff of air. "Just...can you not bring it up to him? It's not the right time for him to find out."

"Not the right time? When is the right time, Gio? Sonny?" I fire back.

His face tightens. "Please don't call me Sonny. That's...just don't."

I don't know what the flipping flip is going on, but I can tell it hurt him to hear me call him by the alias. Stepping forward, he engulfs me in a hug. Even though I can feel how much he needs the connection, my arms stay hanging by my sides.

I inhale a deep breath and lower my voice.

"Gio, when's the right time?"

"When Max decides it is."

He tucks his hands in his front pockets and exits the shop. What the hell am I supposed to do now?

*************

Avoidance is key.

That used to be my motto to avoid having the meltdown of the century. Now, it's to keep my big, rambling mouth shut so I don't deal more damage to Cash's malfunctioning brain.

A simple text to tell him I need to focus on school this weekend did the trick.

I'm going to tell him. I am. I just don't really know how to go about it. Or why he isn't supposed to know right now.

Despite what people think, I'm not stupid. I realize there's probably a lot more at play here than people just not wanting Cash to know that Gio is associated with his dad in some way. There has to be more to it.

But I can't not tell him.

For right now, I'll live with the guilt and eat my feelings while pretending I have better things to do with my life.

What's even worse is that he was so friggin supportive of my decision to study instead of hanging out. I expected him to be annoyed but, instead, he sent a text detailing how proud he was of me for applying myself.

Worst. Girlfriend. Ever.

It did motivate me to crack open a textbook, though. His positivity made me want to do what I was originally only pretending to do.

So, I started studying this morning. But then something happened.

My sneaky fingers found their way into another bag of Cheetos and then all the pages in my book were orange and then a murder mystery came on and now I'm bloated, hanging upside down on the couch. Surrounded by two empty bags of Cheetos, a pack of Oreos with only half a row left, and six Starburst wrappers.

It's not my fault. It just happened. There are some things in life you can't control, and the urge to snack is one of them. When food calls for you, you answer. That's just how it is.

A gentle knock on the door makes my body tense up. Well, it tries to tense up, but I'm convinced my muscles have been replaced with sugar. So, they just kind of roll around inside me.

I don't move to open the door or even call out to ask who it is. The options are very limited. Tanya, Cash, or Wyatt. Or, you know...Hunter. But Tanya wouldn't have let him get past her without a fierce broom whooping, so that one isn't too concerning.

After about two minutes of nothingness, I finally hear someone speak through the door.

"It's Wyatt."

"Come iiiiiinnnnn!" I belch the words, almost throwing up thanks to being upside down.

The door creaks open as he talks.

"That was hot, Quinn. You should do that next time you're trying to seduce some –"

He trails off as soon as he's all the way inside, hesitating to watch me. I'm sure all the blood has rushed to my face so I'm probably bright red. And then there's the carcasses of all the snack victims left in my wake.

"Am I interrupting something?" He asks guardedly, letting the door click shut behind him.

Sometimes he's so much like Cash that it blows my mind.

"Yes, actually." I sigh, eyeing a pink Starburst that's just out of reach. "Can you make yourself useful and get that for me?" I point to the one that got away, hiding from me behind the corner of the Tupperware table.

He strolls over to it and kicks it closer to me with the toe of his boot, but not close enough. Even stretching my arm all the way out, it's just out of reach of my fingertips.

"Kick it again. I like to see my food suffer before I end its life."

Instead of doing as I requested, he stares at me with his head inclined to the side.

"Why don't you just get up and get it yourself?"

Wyatt, such a simple boy, never understanding the hardships of life.

"That would require movement and that's just not something I'm capable of at the moment."

Squatting down, he picks up the piece of candy and holds it up in front of his face. Why is he examining it like it's some kind of strange fossil he needs to study in depth? I hold my hand out, waiting for him to drop it in my palm.

His short fingernails scrape at the wrapper until the corners are undone, and then he unravels it, popping it into his own mouth. Every movement of his jaw as he chews on my Starburst is a personal betrayal that stings my heart.

I can't even give him the evil eye because my face isn't cooperating while I'm dangling off the couch.

"Did you really just do that?" I try to sound angry, but it comes out emotionless. The complete opposite of what I'm feeling.

He places the empty wrapper in my still outstretched hand, and I try to chuck it up at his face. But it only flies halfway before floating back to the ground.

After standing again, he turns his back to me as he meanders into my kitchen.

"Get up." He demands.

"I can't. My body is food now."

"What?" He says, spinning to look at me. "That doesn't make sense. Get up, Quinn."

"Whhhyyy?" I whine, trying to sound pathetic so he'll pity me.

"Cass told me to come check on you, so I guess I'm on Quinn duty again and it's making me feel sick just watching you right now." He stares at all the empty snacks again and shudders.

Heart palpitations take over and my brain tries to kickstart despite the sugar induced coma I've brought upon myself.

"He did not! He wouldn't interrupt my studying." I argue back.

A burst of laughter escapes him while he approaches and drags me off the couch by my wrists until my entire body is on the floor. He continues to yank me to my feet and I almost pass out as all the blood returns to my other limbs.

"He knows you're not studying." He comments matter-of-factly.

"What? How? No, he doesn't!"

After fishing his phone out of his pocket, he clicks around and holds his screen up to show me their text exchange from early this morning.

The Legend: If you're not busy today, can you stop by Quinn's and check on her?

Wyatt: K. Everything alright?

The Legend: Yeah, she's just avoiding me right now and I want to make sure she's okay.

Wyatt: Why is she avoiding you?

The Legend: Don't know, really.

Wyatt: Sooo why do you think she is?

The Legend: She said she's studying this weekend.

Wyatt: Annnnnd??

The Legend: Quinn doesn't study. She's avoiding me.

Wyatt: Done. I'll head there after training.

The Legend: Thanks, as always.

"The Legend? Seriously?" I backhand Wyatt's bicep and look at him with disgust.

He grabs his arm and feigns injury.

"What? The guy's been my idol since I first got into fighting!" He defends himself sheepishly.

Despite my teasing, it secretly makes me feel all warm and bubbly. It seems like a lot of people look up to Cash, young and old alike. But I don't dare broadcast my smile because Wyatt will have some kind of smartass remark.

"You're such a fangirl." I chide, rolling my eyes.

After throwing on matching shoes – thanks to Wyatt – I follow him out the door. I lock it, check it again, unlock and lock it once more just to be sure, and then we're off to who the hell knows where.