Lost Game Notes (Novel)

Chapter 18: Defense Mode

  Delicious scents and talking voices trailed up to Alex's room, waking him up. He rolled over in his bed, running a hand down his face. He could just about make out Kamila's bubbly voice. He thought she would have left by now, but by the sounds and smells of it, she was making dinner.

Alex sat up and blinked his blurry eyes, gazing at the stack of albums on the floor. He had embarrassed himself, crying in front of Kamila like that. But whatever. Now he would make himself go downstairs, endure dinner, and ask Kamila those questions and hopefully get some much needed answers.

He took a quick shower and changed into a blue hoodie and black jeans. He took the time to brush his hair, noting that it was falling past his chin, getting a little too long. He fished out a pair of scissors from the bathroom drawer, then hesitated. The last time he had cut his own hair—which was his now overgrown bangs—he had done an awful job. It looked as though someone has hacked at his hair with rusty garden scissors.

It was either he cut it and make things worse or nothing. Alex sighed and put the scissors back in the drawer. He trudged downstairs. Compared to the time he entered the kitchen of the Silver Spoon Diner, the smells exuding from his own kitchen were a close runner up.

Alex shoved his hands in his pockets as he stepped through, and was greeted with a cheery "hello" from Kamila, who was ladling soup from a pot at the stove.

"Alexander. What have you been up to?" Lawrence gazed past the rim of his coffee cup, his voice cold and calculating.

Alex took his place at the table. "Catching up on some much needed sleep."

Lawrence repeated his words, arching his eyebrows. Taking naps was something Lawrence never did. He would rather type mails and make calls far into the night.

"You should try it sometime," Alex muttered in a dry tone, toying with a glass of water Kamila had set in front of him.

He waited impatiently, running his questions over in his mind, until Kamila had set the last dish on the made-up table and Lawrence had grudgingly put his phone away. Then Kamila made them both uncomfortable by asking to share the grace. Alex stumbled through the verses, and Lawrence muttered the "amen" at the end. For all the world, it seemed as though the prayer was a slap upside the head, especially for Lawrence.

Apart front that, most surprisingly, dinner commenced without a hitch, with Lawrence riling himself up about some "unjust" case, so the attention was not at all on Alex.

At last the plates were cleared, and Alex took his respective place at the sink. It wasn't often that he did the dishes. Two times he had helped Dawn ever since she came to stay with them, but that was about it. Kamila offered to help, but he refused.

Lawrence and Kamila then moved to the living room to quietly discuss "some matters", most likely that undercover case Kamila was working on.

The front door clicked close a while later, and Lawrence looked into the kitchen briefly to announce he was going to work on some papers in his room.

It was then, when Alex dipped his hands into the scalding, sudsy water the hundredth time to wash the last plate, that he remembered the questions he had for Kamila.

He dropped the plate back into the sink and dashed out of the kitchen, drying his hands on his hoodie as he sprinted outside to catch up with the figure disappearing into the darkness.

"Kamila," he blurted, coming to a halt and catching his breath. "I wanted to ask you something."

Kamila turned slightly, her face shadowed by the lamplight overhead. "I'm listening."

Suddenly, Alex was unsure of what to say. Just a little while back he was warning himself not to trust Kamila, and here he was, wanting to ask her questions. Perhaps her telling her story had softened him up a little. She had known his mother, after all.

Alex took a breath and went for it. "Who's Hudson?"

Kamila adjusted the strap of her purse. "Hudson?"

Alex studied her face. Her brows were drawn, eyes holding the same innocence Sky's had when he'd asked him if he knew where Dawn was.

"You don't know a Hudson?" He spoke slowly, disappointment mounting.

Kamila brightened. "I have a four year old nephew who just—"

"What about Conan?" Alex interrupted.

He saw something flash in her eyes, and she pursed her lips. She leaned closer, saying in a low voice, "Have you heard anything? Anything from Lawrence?"

Alex didn't have to think. "He got angry when I mentioned Conan, yesterday when he took me to...to the Silver Spoon Diner."

It did sound odd when he said it out loud. He still couldn't believe Lawrence had done such a thing, even if it had been a set up.

Kamila voiced her opinion, which was the same. "He took you to a diner?"

Alex nodded, toeing a crack in the sidewalk. He wasn't going to tell her it was supposed to be an apology for Lawrence beating him up, of course. The drugs hadn't been his responsibility, yet he had suffered the consequence. There was still a throb in his side every time he moved. And that idiot Jude...

Kamila's brows furrowed as she thought. "Why would he do that? You don't think he's suspecting anything, do you?"

"Bingo! Definitely me, but not you."

A frown flitted over Kamila's face. "I hope you've been doing as I told you and spying in secret."

Alex said quickly, "I have, I promise. It's just that Lawrence is sharp—when he wants to be."

"To be expected. Just try to be more careful, okay?"

Alex nodded his consent.

Kamila darted a glance around. "Tell you what. You've given me exactly—if not more than what I was looking for."

Alex blinked. "Like, now?"

Kamila nodded, tucking a wayward curl behind her ear and smiling at Alex's confused expression. "It wouldn't be fair keep this from you, as I don't have any need for it anyway." She slipped her a hand into her bulky jacket, and, drawing from some inner-pocket, procured a pristine, white envelope.

Alex's mouth dropped open. He had truly thought he would need to do so much more. "The eight—" he began, but Kamila interjected:

"Yes." She shoved the envelope into his unsuspecting hands, then patted them. "Thank you, thank you. This will put an end to my struggling to attain what I couldn't have otherwise. It has been good working with you."

With that, she turned on her heel and strode into the gap of darkness between the lamp lights. Alex stared after her, numbly holding on the envelope.

He tore the seal and peered inside make sure it truly was money, not counterfeit or even...
It was real. He brought the envelope up to his face and inhaled the sweet, papery scent.