The Sinners of Saint Amos - Logan Fox Page 0,44

here. You still got that fatty around?”

“Cassius, you have to leave!” I hurriedly lower my voice. “No one can see you in my room.”

“Why?” He drags a finger over my desk as if inspecting it for dust. “They’d just think we were fucking.”

He’s immaculately dressed this morning. Could be the cooler weather—those same clouds that keep threatening are gathering force—that made him put on his blazer, but there’s no possible explanation for his perfect tie.

I grab the sleeve of his jacket and twist the fabric, using that grip to turn him around. “Look at me,” I snap when his eyes slide away from mine.

“Relax, Boss.” He drawls.

I hurriedly release him and step back. “How are you feeling, Cass?” I ask warily.

We start a dance, him and I. He moves to the left, I slide to the right. Round and round we go, where we’ll stop, nobody knows.

“Honestly? A little left out.” He sends a sparkling smile my way. “See, the last time we spoke, you laid out this brilliant fucking plan—” he waves a hand “—like you always do, and I was legit salivating to hear how it all played out.”

He stops and pulls open the top drawer of my desk. I let him—I have nothing to hide from my brothers. If we still felt the need to keep secrets after the shit we went through then we’d be more fucked in the head than any psychology handbook could explain.

“You didn’t call. You said you’d call.” Cass looks up and lifts out the half-finished blunt I’d stowed away last night. “Feels like I got stood up.”

“She got her lashes. I gave her a way out, she didn’t take it. What more do you want to know?”

Cassius sinks down on my bed and lights the joint.

Gritting my teeth, I lurch forward and snatch it from his lips before the flame can touch the paper. “This hall gets foot traffic in an hour. The smell won’t be gone by then.”

“You know what doesn’t get traffic?” Cassius leans back on my bed, propping himself up on his elbows. “My fucking dick. Not once since we’ve been here. I have needs, Boss. There’s only so much wanking one dick can—”

He cuts off when I slam my drawer shut, the joint tossed back inside. “Stop acting like a fucking kid,” I snap.

“Yeah?” He sits forward in a rush. “You know I don’t have this mental fucking switch I can just turn off like you fuckers.” He rests back on his elbows again. “You know that.”

I study him for a second, and then lean to the side to turn the digital alarm clock to face me. “Fine,” I say through a sigh. “Move over.”

I hesitate, and then check the clock again. Then I lean over and snag the joint from my drawer, lighting it in one go. If I keep my door closed a little longer and open the window, most of the smell should have dissipated before the staff start moving around.

“So she walks into Miriam’s office—”

“Will you tell that bedtime story to me every night?” Cass says, beaming up at me with a goofy grin. About halfway through the retelling he settled down onto my bed, head resting on his hands.

“Sure,” I say through a chuckle. “But now you have to get out of here.” My eyes move to the digital alarm clock. “Because this really is the worst time for us to have to try and explain shit.”

“Yeah, yeah.” He pushes up onto his elbows, but then he pauses. “Hey, Zac?”

I pause, rendered frozen by the hesitation in his voice. “What?”

“If you were fucked in the head, do you think you’d know it right away?”

My hackles rise, but I do my best to keep my expression disinterested. “Like, if you went insane?”

“Yeah, sure. Like that. Do you think you’d know?”

I bring up my leg, but I put it down when I realize I was going to start rubbing my ankle. “It depends. If you’re schizo, then probably not. Because it’s so real to you, and you’d commonly start to disassociate.”

“So your friends wouldn’t pick up on it either?” he adds.

We’ve all learned a few things about the human mind. While I find it fascinating enough to possibly get my Masters in it one day, the Brotherhood approach it like other guys might football. Something we’re all familiar with, and it passes the time.

“Depends on the level of the delusions you suffer. Bipolar, that’s a different story. Relationships are the first to suffer, because