Hack 10

Another week passed (with even more delays regarding Elizabeth's new penthouse) and Sonny was pleased to see that the kids had fallen into a rhythm. They went to school together in the morning, three days a week, and usually came home for lunch. After that, they relaxed or worked on the challenge being offered, and then it was time for all four of them to have dinner together. Whereas Spinelli and Jason usually found themselves returning to Penthouse II after that, Elizabeth could be counted on to change into something fun and flirty and go out with her boys.

They still argued and bickered, of course, over the challenges and the most random things, and Elizabeth still called Spinelli a nerd and he referred to her as a Dragon. Sonny didn't expect this to change. But their arguments were less bitter these days and were far more…reactionary. If Elizabeth, for example, claimed that Bill Gates was her man, Spinelli would immediately begin espousing the miracles of a man named Steve Jobs and the superiority of a little something called Macintosh.

Sonny and Jason felt that they could handle these arguments. They were short-lived and really didn't go anywhere, usually ending with a "nerd" and a "Dragon" remark. And the kids would leave it at that. Besides this, there were no other problems. Well, unless all the guards calling Spinelli "Spaghetti" and the fact that there was still a bug in Penthouse II could be considered problems.

And it was precisely because things were going so well that Jason and Sonny had such few qualms about leaving the kids on their own for the first time in order to attend a meeting in New Jersey. They both made sure to leave plenty of money, detailed instructions with the guards, and to exact a temporary truce treaty from both parties. Spinelli and Elizabeth both knew not to cause any trouble, ditch the guards, or try to reach either Sonny or Jason unless it was something really, really important. The two agreed to the rules and it was set: Sonny and Jason would be able to attend their meeting in South Jersey.

Unfortunately, that was the same weekend in which a nasty storm front was passing through the Tri-State area. The summer had been uncharacteristically warm so far, and they paid for it with more frequent thunderstorms than their region was used to getting. Sonny and Jason had easily beaten the storm system out of the state and were halfway through their weekend with the associates by the time the real storms hit.

It rained on and off all the next day, but the high winds proved far more troublesome. Elizabeth had been planning to go ride horses with Nikolas on Spoon Island but when she saw the ominous, yellow-gray skies and the trees thrashing about in the gale, she knew the last place she wanted to be was aboard a rickety launch on her way to Wyndemere. Nikolas would understand. In fact, he had already forbidden his entire staff to leave the island and was busy making arrangements for all of them to stay comfortably in the Cassidine Estate until the storm moved through the area.

So Elizabeth stayed in, as did Spinelli. He had made comfortable acquaintances with a couple of the other young men in his classes and had been planning to go to Jake's and shoot pool with them. He knew that Coleman wouldn't let him drink if Jason wasn't around to vouch for him, but he figured that was okay if it meant that he would finally get to hang out with some guys that he might, in a very loose sense, be able to call his friends one day if they liked him.

Staying in proved a very wise decision. The skies remained dark all through the afternoon, as if dusk had prematurely set on the waterfront town. And around seven o'clock, the real storms hit. Sheets of rain came down, followed closely by sharp cracks of lightning that exploded into the dark skies and heavy, quaking rolls of thunder.

Elizabeth didn't mind thunderstorms so much – except when Sonny was stranded somewhere away from home during one of them – and wasn't bothered as the world thundered and shook outside her balcony windows. Instead, she grabbed a hardcover copy of The Echo Maker and a can of soda since Sonny was out of town and unable to monitor her soda intake over long distances. She would have gladly invited Max in to watch a movie or something instead, but her favorite bodyguard was a stickler for following all rules and procedures whenever Sonny left her in his care, so Elizabeth knew there was no way she'd convince him to leave his post.

She was halfway through the novel that her professor had recommended and was learning all sorts of things about neurology and brain function when, around eight o'clock, the storm took down the power lines.

Elizabeth looked up with a start when the entire penthouse plunged into darkness. Groaning, she let her head fall back onto the cushions. No more reading, no more playing the stereo twice as loud as Sonny usually let her. And the air-conditioning would go, too. Damn it, she had told Sonny a million times to get that back-up generator with remote access for Harborview Towers, but did he listen? Noooo. And now she had to deal with this.

She listened to the storm rage on outside the tightly shut balcony doors and after a few minutes had passed, Elizabeth finally got up. Mister Perkins was hibernating on the coffee table and she flipped the lid open and tapped on the E. She always used the same key to wake up her laptop; it was the first letter of her name and therefore, her favorite letter. Once the computer had been roused, she straightened the monitoring screen and the pale, almost fluorescent light lit up the main room of Penthouse IV.

Elizabeth used the light to make her way over to the fancy china cabinet by the dinner table, in the drawers of which Sonny usually kept used and stumpy candles. She pulled a number out, along with a Zippo lighter that was probably older than she was and then went about restoring light to the penthouse.

She set one on the coffee table after safely moving Mister Perkins out of the way, one on the dining table, and one on top of the fireplace, then moved about the room to light them, ceremoniously saying, "Fiat lux" over each one. God complexes were fun.

Not wanting Mister Perkins to use up all his charged batteries, she restored the computer to its hibernatory state and flopped down on the couch with yet another one of her battery-operated toys: her mp3 player. It had a fifteen-hour battery life and she wasn't at all worried about that running out.

So that was how she spent the better part of an hour, half-dozing on the couch with her earbud headphones in place. No Sonny making her do things, no Jason making her mad at things, and no Spinelli being annoying about things. It wasn't a bad way to spend an evening.

Across the hall in Penthouse II…

Now he understood why the Dragon liked to keep Mister Corinthos Sir's penthouse so tightly locked and bolted shut with the AC roaring. As Spinelli struggled and fought with the balcony doors and wayward curtains, trying to close off the penthouse to the violent storm, he wished that he and Jason had the same sense.

But, no. They had to go and believe in fresh air and the wide open skies. They had to leave every single freaking window and door in their penthouse wide open to the forces of nature. They had to deal with minor flooding of the bedroom carpets, potential and alarming water damage to Princess Peach, shattered glasses in the kitchen and upturned bottles in the bathrooms that had been knocked over by the storm winds, and general Wizard-of-Oz-like conditions.

And by 'they,' Spinelli meant 'he,' because Stone Cold was out of town.

Damn it all to Hell.

It took him almost an hour to make Penthouse II watertight and clean up all the damage. And after inspecting Princess Peach for the millionth time and making absolutely sure that her hard drive and unmentionables hadn't been damaged, Damien Spinelli decided that a cold, wet, lonely penthouse with half a take-out portion of moldy garlic bread in the fridge was absolutely no place for a growing boy like himself.

So he decided to head over to the Dragon's den and see what she was up to. And maybe to steal some of her food.

Trying to block out sounds of the thunderstorm, Spinelli closed the door securely behind himself and sought out Max in the hallway.

"Hey, Spaghetti," the guard nodded. "You need something? Anything I can do?"

The boy shook his head and looked around the desolate floor. "Quiet out here."

"Sure is."

Spinelli eyed the security cameras perched up by the ceiling and then looked at Max. "Those things – they're out of commission, aren't they?"

Max nodded. "Yup. Storm took out everything. My brother just radioed in from the warehouse and he says the power's out in the whole town. Try not to worry, though. We've got men downstairs in the lobby, and I'm stationed on this floor. And I'm not going anywhere."

"Good to know," the boy replied before jerking his thumb toward Penthouse IV. "Is the Dragon home?"

Max nodded again. "Yeah, haven't heard much out of the Toothpick for a while now. She might be sleeping or something."

"I'm going to let myself in," Spinelli told him, reaching for the door. "Goodnight, Silent Sentinel."

"Same to you, Spaghetti."

Just as Spinelli poked his head into the penthouse, a sharp crack of lightning touched down right outside the balcony doors. He jumped at the explosive sound and the bright flash that followed, and the sound of him hitting his shoulder on the doorframe alerted Elizabeth. The brunette took one earbud out of her ear and propped herself up on the couch.

"Nerd?"

"Felicitations, Dragon," he replied, holding his hand up and slinking in. He shut the door firmly behind him and leaned against it, trying not to visibly wince when the thunder rolled outside. It wasn't as bad in Penthouse IV as it was in Penthouse II; it just sounded so much closer there, across the hall.

"What do you want?" Elizabeth groused, swinging her legs down onto the floor. She had been having such a peaceful evening, too. "Don't tell me you're afraid of a little old thunderstorm."

When the lightning flashed again, she got a good look at his face and saw that the boy had paled slightly. Her words appeared to have pinned him to the door and the look on his face almost made Elizabeth hold her breath.

He swallowed and made a conscious effort to move an inch away from the door. "…My mother died during a thunderstorm so, yeah, I guess I am afraid of them."

She could have sworn that her heart skipped a beat at the sound of his low, gravelly voice, and Elizabeth dug her toes into the carpet and removed the other earbud. Without looking away from him, she turned her mp3 player off and left it on the cushion.

"Oh."

They stood and stared at each other for a long time, not sure who had the next move. It was always a game between them, and now they found themselves stalled in a check.

Elizabeth moved first, scooting over to the other end of the couch and pulling her legs up with her in a silent offer for Spinelli to sit. "So…what are you doing here?"

The boy shrugged and slowly sat. "The penthouse was really quiet. I was just wondering what you were doing."

She shrugged in reply as well. "As you can see, nothing much. I don't want to use Mister Perkins because he's running on charge. Plus, even though we have one of those power adapter things that protects from surges, I don't trust this storm."

"I'm not risking it with Princess Peach, either," Spinelli confessed. "She's been through enough for one night."

"You talk about your computer in vaguely sexual ways," Elizabeth observed. "I'd be creeped out if I didn't do the same thing."

"Stone Cold hates it."

"Sonny does, too."

"That's why I do it."

"Hey! Me, too!"

They enjoyed that rare moment of agreement for a few minutes, each one wearing a matching smile. After a while, Spinelli fidgeted and looked over his shoulder.

"So…you eaten yet?"

Elizabeth shook her head. "Nope. I was actually planning to go to Wyndemere tonight and ride with Nikolas."

"I'm hoping you mean on a horse."

She rolled her eyes and kicked his thigh. "Yes, on a horse. Anyway, we had dinner plans, too. He was having Mrs. Lansbury make roasted lamb with mint jelly."

The boy rested a hand on his gurgling stomach. "Yum."

"With wild, seasoned brown rice and vegetables."

His tummy rolled. "Ah."

"And desert coffee and chocolate-dipped biscotti for afterwards."

"Okay, I can't take it anymore!" Spinelli burst out, turning around on the couch so that he was facing her. "I haven't eaten all day, and the only thing in the penthouse is a piece of garlic bread but there are things growing on it and I think I saw a Smurf or two living down there and Stone Cold doesn't make the grocery lists and then he makes fun of me when I make one and then he calls me a girl and I'm hungry and I want some of Mister Corinthos Sir's heavenly cuisine."

Elizabeth listened to this whole rant with wide eyes and only spoke when she was positive that nothing else was going to come out of Spinelli's mouth. "Well, you're kind of out of luck because I finished off the last of the leftovers from last night for lunch, so…"

The boy slumped down on the couch, dejected. "We're going to starve. The crafty Jackal and the mighty Dragon, both going down the same way in the end."

She rolled her eyes and swung her legs off the couch to stand. "Not likely. I was actually going to get dinner started when you barged in, and I guess I can make an extra plate if you're convinced you're going to waste away to nothing."

"I am!" he answered immediately, jumping up off the couch. "I swear."

Elizabeth didn't even glance over her shoulder as she led the way to the kitchen. "Well, one can only hope."

After starving away in Penthouse II all day, the kitchen in Penthouse IV was indeed the Promised Land to Damien Spinelli. He watched in awe as Elizabeth went to work, sure that she was going to create something as delectable as her mentor would have if he were present.

First, she ordered him to take care of the little things. He brought out the candles and lit up the entire kitchen so that his Dragon would have plenty of light to work by. Then he selected the pot she needed, got out the olive oil from the cabinet, and even sampled a spoonful at her behest. It made him cough, which in turn made Elizabeth laugh as she explained that the more the oil produced that result, the better it was.

"Start cutting the tomatoes for me," she ordered, putting three large washed tomatoes down on the cutting board. "I'm going to get out the rest of the spices and wash the lettuce."

Spinelli saluted her and began deliberating over what knife to use. This continued for a good five minutes – after all, he didn't want to mess anything up for his uncharacteristically and temporarily benevolent hostess – until Elizabeth, fed up with his indecision after having gotten the pasta to a boil, grabbed a knife and random and put it down in front of him.

"You ever cook?"

"Not really," he answered, slicing and dicing the tomatoes with startling efficiency. His skill was what had prompted the question in the first place, but Spinelli didn't realize that. "Stone Cold and I weren't big on cooking. We either ate on the run, getting whatever we could, or we went to the really nice, five-star restaurants and stuff."

If he had looked up from his work, he would have noticed the way the corner of Elizabeth's mouth lifted. "Cool."

He was chopping methodically now, the knife clunking rhythmically against the wood. "Yeah. It wasn't anywhere near as glamorous as it sounds, thought. For all the lobsters and prime steaks we ate, we also had enough days of skipping meals entirely, or eating…really questionable things."

"Ugh," the brunette grimaced, checking her spices to make sure she had everything. "I don't even want to hear about it. Say what you want about Sonny – most people do – but I wouldn't trust my diet to anyone else. He always makes sure I eat a balanced meal, and he's a wonderful cook, too."

"Yeah." Spinelli peeked up at her for the briefest of moments. "Mister Corinthos Sir seems to enjoy taking care of you."

Elizabeth trailed her fingers lightly across the edge of the counter, lifting the lid slightly to check on the pasta. "He needs someone to take care of. All the people he loved in his life either died or left him, and it means a lot to him, doing what he does for a living, to be able to take care of someone and watch out for them. I try to let him do that as much as he needs to."

"I noticed it last week," the boy smirked in reply. "When he was talking about only 'letting' you have two sodas a week. To be honest, the Jackal was surprised that someone could control the bloodthirsty Dragon that way."

Elizabeth had to laugh at that. "Yeah, well, he put a roof over my head for the last six years. The least I can do is put up with his little rules, right?"

"I guess."

"Doesn't your Stone Cold One or whatever you call him have rules for you?"

This question was interesting enough that Spinelli actually stopped dicing the tomatoes to consider his answer. "Well…not really. I don't remember him ever telling me not to do something. But then again, the Jackal has always stuck fairly close to Stone Cold's side and been the Spock to his Kirk-"

"The Samwise to his Frodo," Elizabeth couldn't resist adding.

"Exactly," Spinelli nodded. "I just stayed close to him and made sure to do exactly what he did. And we never really had any problems."

"Except when you made that Belgian supermodel think he was gay."

Several years after the fact, the boy still cringed. "That was awful. I tried to explain later to her, but I think I just made it worse. Oh, here are your tomatoes."

Elizabeth, who had been adding olive oil to a skillet, looked over her shoulder in surprise. "Done already? You're good with a knife."

"Hello? Farmboy – hi," he replied, jerking a thumb toward his chest. "Before Stone Cold found me, I was an apprentice to a butcher in our village. I can slaughter a cow in my sleep."

"Good to know," Elizabeth got out slowly, reminding herself never to put one of her larger knives in Spinelli's hands.

"Of course, we didn't have all these fancy knives," he continued, poking around in Sonny's drawer. "We just had two, and they were both big and sharp. I knew how to use them on animals and on people."

His statement surprised her so much that Elizabeth almost spilled the balsamic vinegar she was attempting to add to the tomatoes in the skillet. "What? On people?"

Spinelli nodded. "Tuscany isn't all wine-tasting and song, you know. Things got bad sometimes. I had to defend myself. There wasn't anyone else around to do it, so I had to make sure I was safe. We didn't have Silent Sentinels in the hall, or those security cameras…not that they're much good right now, anyway. Anyone could just walk right up those stairs, take out the Premiere Sentinel there, and walk in through your front door."

This was something, surprisingly, that Elizabeth had never considered.

The power had gone out several times during her six years at Harborview Towers and never once had she considered that not only did it mean that her blowdryer and TV and air-conditioning were out of commission, but also the security cameras out in the hall. The one person standing between her and all the horrible things Sonny warned her about was Max.

She had come to take her secure life in the Towers for granted – so much so that such a thing never once occurred to her! And it took a stupid, annoying little nerd to make her think about it for the first time.

"Oh, my God – you're right! And what if there's more than one? They can easily overpower Max and – and he can't shoot them all, and-"

"It's all right," Spinelli assured her, looking quite unconcerned. "The Silent Sentinel is quite capable – you told me so yourself. And no one's getting over to Harborview in this storm, anyway. And even if they do…"

He wiped his hands on a dish towel and reached behind himself. When he drew his hands forward again, Elizabeth's eyes immediately fell to the silver Glock nestled comfortably in his strong grip.

"No worries."

She eyed him suspiciously as he made sure the safety was on, then slipped the weapon back into the waistband of his beige and maroon plaid shorts. "You know how to use that thing?"

This time, it was Spinelli's turn to give her a skeptical look. "You think Stone Cold would let the Jackal follow him around for four years without training him in the art of using firearms?"

Elizabeth rolled her eyes and resumed stirring the tomatoes. Spinelli watched as she added a pinch of oregano and a few leaves of fresh basil. "So…do you know how to use a weapon?"

"I'm proficient in the use of small firearms," came the reply. "I went to an American public school."

"Touché, Dragon."

"Do me a favor?" She looked over her shoulder and found him attentive. "Can you open the windows? It's boiling in here now that the AC's worn off."

The request alarmed the poor boy. "You don't want to do that – trust me, nothing good will come from un-battening down the hatches!"

Elizabeth rolled her eyes. "The rain is falling away from our side of the building. You're facing a different way, so of course it would come into your place. All I know is I'm going to roast if you don't help me open some windows."

The boy shrugged and did as he was asked, and was pleased to see that the Dragon had been right. The wind was still fairly strong so he couldn't open the window too much, but it was good enough to reduce some of the humidity in the penthouse.

"Do me another favor? Stir the tomatoes for two more minutes and then take them out into that dish," she directed, turning the spoon over to him. "It's so muggy in here – I have to change out of this thing. Man, I hope the power comes back soon – and that Sonny and Jason get home soon. This weather is the worst."

And as Spinelli stood by the stove, stirring the tomatoes in their oregano-balsamic sauce, it occurred to him that even though this weather was the worst, he hadn't been reminded of the fact for a good half hour spent in her company.

"I hope the kids are all right," Sonny muttered, still shaking the water off his coat as he and Jason stepped out onto their floor. "The roads are flooded, the winds are about fifty miles per hour, and all the power's out. Not a good night to be home alone."

"Mister C, Jason," Max called out, nodding in greeting as the men approached. "You made it home okay?"

Sonny nodded. "Got stalled around Ocean Shore and had to make a messy detour. Wasn't too bad – we didn't get caught in any of the flooded areas. How're things here?"

"Toothpick had plans to go meet Mister Cassidine," Max relayed, not noticing the way Jason's mouth curled downward. "But when she got news of the weather reports, she cancelled her plans and stayed in all day. Same with Spaghetti. I think he got hungry a little while ago and went into the penthouse to see if Toothpick had anything she could spare, and I haven't seen them since."

Sonny closed his eyes at the thought of the two actually being in such close quarters for a whole night. "Chances are good they've already killed each other."

"See, that's what I thought," Max laughed, "but then I heard them talking about Italy a little while ago, so I knew they were there."

"Thanks, Max." The mobster nodded to his guard as he held the door for him and entered his penthouse. "Eliz- Oh."

Jason stepped in on Sonny's heels and saw what had his best friend so surprised. The power was still out all over town, but Penthouse II was softly lit with dozens of flickering candles. They were spread out all over the room in little groups: five on the empty dining table, two set on a dish on Sonny's desk, safely away from all his work, a whole row of them on the mantle, and small clusters of two or three on all the end tables.

Elizabeth and Spinelli sat on large cushions that they had pulled down to the floor, and the coffee table was filled with food. There was a covered dish of still-warm linguini that Spinelli was currently scarfing down with what looked to be a hearty tomato sauce. A fresh cut salad sat in a large green bowl with perfectly matched tongs, and there was a large basket of bread with a little dish of butter, and two tall glasses of ice water.

It all looked so oddly…romantic.

And as if that wasn't unsettling and nauseating enough, Jason could barely believe his eyes when they came to a rest on Elizabeth. Whereas Spinelli looked the same with his shaggy hair and plaid shorts and running socks, the normally buttoned-up brunette looked drastically different.

The warmth of the stormy summer night had forced her to change out of her slacks and collared shirt into something more comfortable, and the brunette had selected a pair of slim-fitting denim knickers that ended just above her knee, allowing her to comfortably sit cross-legged on the floor as she was now, and a white cotton wife-beater tank. The humidity levels in the penthouse were high, and her normally straight chestnut hair had transformed into bouncy, fluffy, slightly frizzy waves that tumbled down her back despite her attempt to keep them knotted up in a loose twist.

When Sonny looked over at his partner to see if he wanted the first word, he found Jason's gaze firmly trained on Elizabeth and decided he'd better spare him the embarrassment of failing to form a coherent thought.

"What are you kids doing?"

"Eating," Elizabeth replied, hopping up from her seat to give Sonny a kiss on the cheek. "We just made dinner. Are you hungry? We didn't expect you back so early. How'd the meeting go? What's it like outside? You got home okay, didn't you?"

"We're fine, everything's fine," he assured her, tucking a loose curl behind her ear. "The roads are a mess, but Francis got us home fine. So…you kids are eating, huh?"

"Not kids," Spinelli got out around a mouthful of linguini.

"You've got spaghetti sauce all over your face."

Spinelli glanced at Elizabeth and decided to take a chance. "You've got spaghetti sauce all over your face."

As he had hoped, Sonny rolled his eyes and let it go. "Thank you, Spinelli."

"We should go," Jason announced abruptly, drawing surprised looks from everyone in the room. "Me and Spinelli," he clarified unnecessarily.

The boy quickly stuffed another piece of bread in his mouth as Elizabeth frowned at his mentor. "He's eating – you can go after he finishes. Besides, from what I hear, there's absolutely nothing in your fridge and you don't feed him."

"I feed him," Jason replied defensively. "He eats."

Elizabeth rolled her eyes and turned away from him, returning to her seat on the floor. "If you say so. But Nerd's not going anywhere until he finishes all of his food. I didn't spend an hour in the kitchen for him to pick at it and then dance out of here. Take more salad, nerd."

He did as he was told and then, thinking of his own safety once they were back in Penthouse II, offered his plate up to his mentor. "Stone Cold?"

Jason scowled and moved past him, flopping down on Sonny's favorite armchair. "Just eat so we can go."

"It's past someone's bedtime," Elizabeth observed, making a little face that made Spinelli laugh. Jason's dark glare went unnoticed as the brunette turned to her own meal and speared a radish with her fork.

Sonny, nervous about the candles on his desk, blew them out before making his way over to the wet bar where he poured a scotch for himself and Jason, then took a seat on the sofa behind Elizabeth so that she sat at his feet. "Things weren't too bad around here?"

"The winds were really fast about an hour ago," Spinelli answered, nodding in emphasis. "Really bad."

Jason rolled his eyes and groaned. "How much damage did you do to the penthouse?"

Elizabeth slid him a sideways look. "From what I hear, you're the one that always leaves all the windows open."

"How can you hear so much if you never stop talking?"

Spinelli hid his laughter in another piece of bread, already knowing the secrets behind the dynamic of the Dragon and his Stone Cold. They had discussed his mentor cursorily during the evening and he had the distinct feeling that the Dragon enjoyed getting him riled up. He had long since suspected that she was one of very few people that got Stone Cold to regress in maturity and bicker.

And that was partly true. Jason had no idea, in fact, what it was about Elizabeth that had him so willing to trade insults and regress to the state of a teenager. It annoyed him that she played the dutiful, loving little girl to Sonny; the guy's girl to Stan and the guards; the little vixen to Nikolas, no doubt; antagonist but fair-weather supporter to Spinelli; and a total witch to him. It annoyed him that there could be so many sides to one person.

Ever since he woke up from the accident, he had made it a point to avoid people like that. The car wreck had turned him into a simple man. He said what he thought and he did what he said. He didn't have different personalities that he changed in and out of like his clothes. And he liked his friends to be the same. Sonny was a man of honor, a man that lived by a code similar to his own. Spinelli was a trusting, loyal sidekick that never let him down. Nikolas was a powerful, just Prince with refined tastes and a shrewd sense of observation. And Max, Johnny, and Francis were staunch, solid, trustworthy associates that he knew he could always count on.

And that's why Elizabeth was even more of an enigma. She didn't fit into any of those roles, and sometimes it seemed that she fit all of them too well, which was also disturbing. She could be intensely competitive and competent, like she was during the tech challenges; she could be fiercely loyal and supportive, like she was whenever Sonny was facing difficulties with the organization; she could be predatorial and territorial, like she had been when he and Spinelli first came home. She could be all of those things, and that was unsettling because always felt that in doing so, she was keeping something hidden from them all.

And even tonight – what the hell was this about? She had cooked Spinelli dinner. She hadn't slapped together a peanut butter sandwich like Jason would have if he heard the boy whining. Oh, no – she had put together an entire meal right down to the freshly cut salad and the freshly prepared tomato sauce and garlic butter. He remembered her saying that she only cooked for someone special, and that was what made this whole thing all the more disconcerting.

The thought was unpleasant and Jason hunkered down in the armchair with his scotch, glaring at the two kids as they tried to remember just what they had put in the salad that was purple and crinkly. Sonny might have been hoping for an eventual alliance, but that was the last thing that Jason decided he wanted to happen here.