Some Assembly Required (22 page)

Benji rounded the last aisle and came up short so quickly that a woman ran her cart right through him. She shivered and looked around wildly, the hair on her arms standing on end. He couldn’t focus on her, though. His attention was fixed on the small pager tucked in the breast pocket of Charles’s immaculately ironed shirt.

His gaze shot down to Charles’s hands, which were unmarked. Benji let out a breath he hadn’t known he’d been holding. Then the stranger raised his own hand to rub at his temples and Benji saw the thing he’d been terrified of seeing on Charles’s skin—a hand stamp. It was faded on one edge and dark on the other from being unevenly applied, like most club stamps were. But this wasn’t the remnant of a night out on the town. Somewhere down in Bambini Mondo was a tiny hand with a matching number.

Charles was dating someone with a kid. What the fuck.

Without conscious thought, Benji dissolved and reappeared in Bambini Mondo. It was a busy day, and there were tons of kids there, but Charles and his boyfriend had definitely said “she” when talking about the kid’s crib, so Benji could rule out half of the kids toddling around by virtue of that. If she was in a crib, she’d be tiny, but that didn’t make much sense, since Bambini Mondo had a minimum height requirement. Still, he started with the smallest ones first, scanning kid after kid until he found one who had the same sequence of numbers stamped on her hand.

When he saw her, everything stopped.

Literally. He was so surprised and distraught that his energy pulsed, overloading the circuits and sending Bambini Mondo crashing into darkness. Kids screamed and employees rushed around trying to reassure them and figure out what was happening, and Benji stood in the middle of the chaos, unable to feel guilty about the mess he’d caused because he was too busy feeling nothing at all.

She wasn’t tiny. Or rather, she wasn’t as tiny as Benji had expected. The mention of the crib had made him think baby, but this girl had to be at least four.

She was also unmistakably Charles’s. From her patrician nose to the shape of her ears, she was Charles all over. His boyfriend might have been the one with the stamp, but there was no way this little girl wasn’t Charles’s biological child.

He could barely hear himself think over the cacophony of crying children. The lights blinked back on a few seconds later, dimmer because they were on a generator rather than the main circuit. Benji took a purposeful breath and closed his eyes, focusing on drawing into himself. Expending enough energy to short out CASA’s electrical grid should have dissipated him instantly, but he felt stronger than ever. He was a little disappointed—if ever there had been a time he’d welcome the oblivion of wherever they went when their energies were expended, this was it. He could use a little calming nothingness just about now.

He didn’t stick around to watch the aftermath of his tantrum down in Bambini Mondo. No kids had gotten out and things were under control, so he tamped down the hot tendril of guilt snaking its way up through his throat and turned on his heel, making his way toward the stopped escalator. He wasn’t sure teleporting was a good idea right now. He’d probably end up stuck in a wall.

The escalator hummed to life when he was halfway up it, and a beat later the lights came back to full power. CASA was back on the grid.

None of the customers he passed looked panicked, only annoyed, so Benji figured the power had only been out for a minute or two, tops, not the eternity it had felt like to him. People were already back to stuffing their carts with plastic junk they’d never use, completely oblivious to the fact that Benji’s energy had somehow attacked the store.

He could feel Agnes and Karin somewhere on the fringes of his consciousness, but he didn’t take the time to look for them. He’d always had a vague pull that told him where they were, and Patrick, too, though the connection to him was stronger. He ignored them for the moment. Right now he couldn’t think about anything other than getting answers from Charles about the little girl downstairs.

Even if his estimate was off by a year or two, which he doubted, there was no way this kid hadn’t been conceived when he and Charles were together. He’d always suspected that Charles cheated, but this was still a shock. As far as he knew, Charles had never had any interest in women. Then again, as far as he knew Charles didn’t have any children and wouldn’t be caught dead shopping in a CASA, so clearly he was working with bad information.

Charles and his mystery boyfriend were still in the children’s furniture section when Benji found them. His heart was racing from the run, and he felt a prickle of moisture at his temple. He wiped it away absently, and it wasn’t until he rubbed his fingertips together a moment later that he realized it actually was sweat, not just the phantom feeling of it or the tiny misting of it he’d experienced before when he’d exerted himself. It was proper sweat, running down his face. He held his hand to his chest, his breath catching when he realized he could feel his heart beating. That was new too. Probably just another manifestation of extreme emotion. Finding out your ex-boyfriend had a child definitely qualified.

Feeling bold, he held his hand out in front of Charles’s face. Nothing. Still invisible.

“Why are you here? Who is this? When did you have a daughter?” he shouted, his throat raw.

Still nothing. Charles didn’t flinch or even cock his head like he used to when he’d hear something in the distance.

Benji swallowed down his disappointment and tried to center himself. Everything was going haywire, and he didn’t want to accidentally hurt someone by knocking something over.

And that was when he saw the Impression. She was biting at her lip a few feet away, her hands wringing together. The look on her face was pure, unadulterated fear, but it wasn’t directed at him. She was staring past him with a focused, laser-like gaze Benji had seen dozens of times before.

Shit.

Shit, shit, shit.

Was she here for Charles? Maybe his boyfriend?

Shit.

The Impression came closer, looking more anguished than she had a moment ago. Benji stepped closer, his eyes widening when he realized that they’d moved on from the tiny desks and two-tiered bookcases they’d been looking at earlier.

Charles ran his hand over the smooth white finish of the piece he and his boyfriend were examining. “It would match,” he said, squinting thoughtfully. “I still don’t see why we can’t just use Josie’s.”

The other man snorted, not looking up from the product information card. TRIGNO, it said. Cabinet, white.

They were looking at changing tables.

“Because you insisted on getting her a convertible one and she’s still using it as her dresser. Remember? We spent what, eight hundred on that thing?”

“Then let’s get her a new dresser and keep the changing table with the crib,” Charles said.

The man fisted his hands at his sides. “Great plan. She was already mad enough about the crib, and she wasn’t even using that. Let’s go ahead and take away furniture that’s actually in her room. She’s already feeling anxious, why not give her more of a reason to hate me?”

Charles moved toward him and rested his hands on the man’s shoulders. “Kerry,” he said softly, and the man’s head dropped forward, all of the anger disappearing. “She doesn’t hate you. Why would you say that?”

“Because she overheard my goddamned sister at the baby shower last night saying it was good that I’d have one of my own now,” he muttered. “And I tried to explain that it wasn’t like that, but Josie wouldn’t talk to me this morning.”

Charles’s lips curved up into a heartbreakingly beautiful smile. Benji had forgotten he could look like that—compassionate, kind. Loving. It had been a long time since he’d had that megawatt smile aimed at him, and it made him remember all the good times they’d had together.

“Josie wouldn’t talk to you this morning because she forgot Rainbow Dash at your sister’s last night and you refused to go back and get it,” he said, his voice soft and amused.

“We were five minutes from home when she realized! I told her to make sure she had everything before we left—”

Benji could feel the reverberation of Charles’s quiet laughter in his own chest. “And what did she say? She said, ‘I hate you, you’re the worst dad ever.’”

Kerry scowled at him. “I’m glad that’s funny to you.”

Charles slid a hand down Kerry’s arm and wrapped it around his fist, bringing it up to his mouth to kiss it lightly. “Yeah, because it cements my status as best dad. Because she only has two, so if you’re the worst….” He grinned when Kerry’s lips quirked into a reluctant smile. “You are her dad. We have adoption papers that prove it. And I’ll be the Blob’s dad, as soon as he’s born and I’ve adopted him. Josie knows she’s ours. It doesn’t matter who her biological dad is.”

Kerry tapped him on the shoulder with a closed fist. “Don’t call him the Blob. We already picked out his name.”

Charles’s smile was incandescent. It blew every memory of Charles he had out of the water—he was positive Charles had never been this happy with him. It made his chest ache, both with inadequacy and undeniable jealousy. Who was this guy? Why was he able to make Charles smile like that? Why did he get to have a family with Charles when Benji hadn’t been able to? Why had he been so adamant that he didn’t want kids when he already had one? And why was he so happy to be a dad now?

The pager in Charles’s pocket lit up and started vibrating. He and Kerry both looked at it and burst out laughing. “Time’s up,” Kerry said ruefully. “It hasn’t been an hour yet. I wonder what she’s done?”

“Organized an army of tiny minions and tried to overthrow Bambini Mondo, probably,” Charles said with a shrug. He was so laid-back and comfortable in his own skin. It was almost unbearably attractive. “God, they’re going to totally walk all over us, aren’t they? It’s hard enough saying no to her—I can’t imagine we’ll have better luck when there are two of them.”

Kerry wrinkled his nose. “I can say no. You’re the pushover.”

Charles smirked triumphantly, and Kerry seemed to realize his misstep a beat too late. “Well, maybe you should be the one to go dole out her punishment, then,” Charles said, pushing the still-buzzing pager into Kerry’s hands. “I’m going to get this one. I’ll meet you down in the warehouse? I wanted to pick up a changing pad.”

“Get a couple new covers too. I don’t think we kept any of Josie’s,” Kerry said. He leaned in and pressed an easy, proprietary kiss at the edge of Charles’s mouth and walked off.

Benji was still standing stock-still in the middle of the aisle. People veered around him, the crowd parting like water around a large rock, flowing back together as soon as they’d gotten past him. No one seemed to notice how strange that was.

Benji was spurred into action when the Impression crept closer, gesturing wildly at Charles when he started writing down the warehouse information on the TRIGNO.

“Is it him?” Benji asked her, his heart caught in his throat.

She shook her head, and relief coursed through Benji’s veins. But if it wasn’t Charles—

He looked down the aisle in the direction Kerry had disappeared. “The other one?”

She was still wringing her hands, nodding.

Benji studied the changing table cabinet. It was tall—maybe it fell on him? Or maybe he was killed before it was even assembled. The Impression wasn’t forthcoming with information, which was frustrating. Some of them were too new to talk, and he desperately hoped that wasn’t the case here.

Though, would it be the end of the world if Kerry died?

Shame and revulsion fell over him like a blanket. What the fuck was his problem? He was hoping this guy died? Jesus.

Benji ran a hand over his face roughly. His skin was dry, even though he still felt sweaty. Back to normal, then. Apparently actively wishing for a guy to die wasn’t a strong enough emotion to physically manifest. Good to know, just in case he wanted a future as a serial killer.

“So the TRIGNO kills Kerry?”

The Impression hesitated and then shook her head. Her eyes practically bulged out of her head as she shook it violently, urgently gesturing toward Charles, who had finished writing the ticket information and was tucking the sheet and tiny stub of a pencil into his breast pocket.

If it didn’t kill Kerry or Charles, that left what?

His stomach dropped.

“The baby?” he asked, his voice breaking.

She nodded, her expression as horrified as Benji felt. He couldn’t let that happen.

“What do they need, anchors?”

That was pretty common, people cutting corners and not bothering to anchor heavier furniture. It would be a simple fix too.

She shook her head and mimed something he didn’t understand. The sense of urgency increased when Charles wandered out of the aisle, presumably headed toward the changing pads.

“Can you talk? What happens? I need details!” He hadn’t meant to shout, since that usually stressed the Impressions out and made them even more useless, but he couldn’t help it. He wasn’t going to let a baby die.

She shook her head and ran over to the TRIGNO display. It looked like a fancy bookshelf with a fold-down tray that Benji assumed held the baby. It seemed unstable, but anchoring it to the wall would fix that. It wasn’t like the table-like models next to it, and Benji could see how its aesthetic would appeal to Charles. The rest of them were pretty ugly, but this one looked like a real piece of furniture.

The Impression knelt down underneath the piece and then stood quickly. She didn’t have enough energy to be corporeal so her head went through the changing table piece, but she fell to the ground and clutched at her temple.

A chill went through Benji. She was miming her own death. “You hit your head on it after bending down and died?” She nodded. “But the baby won’t be tall enough—”

She shook her head hard and placed a palm on the flat surface of the changing table, then swung it away in an arc that landed on the floor.

“Oh God,” Benji said, swallowing hard against the acrid bile that crept up his throat. “Kerry hits his head on the changing table and knocks the baby out of it?”