"Traumatic events don't just inhibit trust, they also impact truth," says psychologist Carl Evans.
Luca Holt has put up his first post on Instagram!
As Pandi said goodbye to his last client before lunch, he sensed Zay staring hard at him. Sure enough, when he turned around, Zay's eyes were glued to him like he wanted to say something.
"What?" Pandi asked, keeping his tone as inviting as possible.
Zay blinked. "Oh, um, I wanted to ask if I could put my brother on your schedule for tomorrow cause you've got an opening."
Pandi shoved his hands into his pockets. "Your brother?"
"Yeah." Zay grabbed his purse and got up from the desk. "We can talk while walking down to the station."
Pandi obligingly held the door open for Zay and then locked it behind them. "So what about your brother?"
"My brother Ezekiel…" Zay sighed heavily, running his finger between the chain of his purse strap and his shoulder. "Let's just say he went through every omega's nightmare. And he's got trauma. A lot of it. He's terrified of strangers, but he's willing to see you cause he's kinda met you and I think he's beginning to trust me again."
That set Pandi's mind working to recall the memories from Saturday. "Was he the really blond one? A little shorter than Camille?"
Zay nodded. "Yeah, that's him. So…can I? Put him on your schedule? I'll pay for it."
Pandi opened the main complex door for Zay. "Of course. I'd be happy to help in any way I can."
"Thanks. Just gonna warn you, though, he doesn't like the word help. I'm pretty sure he thinks everyone who uses that word sees something wrong about him."
Pandi forced his hands into his pockets again to avoid the temptation of grabbing Zay's free hand as they walked. "Noted. So he doesn't like needing help and he doesn't think there's anything wrong with himself?"
Zay let out a quiet, bitter laugh. "Oh, no, he knows something's wrong. He just hates it when other people notice."
Pandi nodded, processing the information. He had worked with plenty of trauma, but this sounded like a combination of trauma and narcissism, which he was a little scared about dissecting. When they reached the police station, Pandi once again held open the door for Zay and followed him in.
Zay walked straight up to the front desk. "I need to make a statement." His voice was calm, clear, and unwavering.
The officer standing there nodded and led him and Pandi to a back room. She set up a camera and got out a notebook and pen. "Whenever you're ready, sir."
Zay shifted in his chair, but he did not seem nervous. He just seemed unsure where to start. "My name is Zayvier King, and I'm a professional tennis player. As the first omega in the sport, I have always expected sexist hate and backlash, but everything I received was all online or from a distance. Until Saturday, when an alpha attacked me as I was leaving practice at the Doxon Hills Club." He sucked in a deep breath. "I wasn't feeling well since I was near heat, but that had nothing to do with the man's attack. He told me I was a filthy creature and that I didn't belong in my sport. He pinned me to the sidewalk and put a gun in my mouth."
Pandi closed his eyes as he remembered turning the corner and seeing that gun in Zay's mouth as the man pinning him down started to reach to rip his clothes away.
The officer also seemed to need a moment before she asked, "Could you describe him for me?"
Zay nodded. "Caucasian. Straight blond hair. Washed out blue eyes. He was wearing a blue baseball cap and muddy jeans. He wore boots too, like the steel-toed kind."
Pandi spoke up to add to the description. "He was around 5'11'' with a scar down his left temple."
The officer glanced at him. "Were you there, sir?"
Pandi nodded. "I happened upon the scene and got the man off Mr. King. I know I probably should have called you guys then, but I wasn't really thinking clearly."
The officer nodded, like she had heard a similar story before. "No one ever does. It takes lots of practice, and adrenaline can still make you do stupid things." She made a few notes. "I'll send out a description and let you know when we've found him so you can confirm his identity. Could I have a good phone number?"
Zay gave her his.
She pulled a business card out of her pocket and handed it to Zay. "That's my name and contact information. You can text or call the second number. That's my personal one."
Pandi glanced at the name on the card before Zay put it away. "Thank you, Olcayra."
She stood up. "I'm always here to help. If you ever need anything, just let me know. I'll work on getting this all tied up for you as quickly as I can."
Zay and Pandi also stood up and followed Olcayra back to the front of the station, where they thanked her again before leaving.
"Honestly," Pandi said, once they were outside, "I'm surprised you didn't break down or something. Most people can't relate a traumatic event so calmly."
Zay shrugged. "I practiced it a couple times to myself before we got there. I didn't want to cry and ruin my makeup."
Pandi was not entirely sure that was the whole reason, but he let it be. After all, he and Zay still had another difficult conversation to have. He refrained from speaking about it, though. He did not want it to interfere with work, and he had a feeling Zay would rather wait until after.
Sure enough, after the last client left, Zay grabbed his purse as he pushed his chair around to face Pandi, who was lurking in the doorway. "Let's get dinner and talk, yeah?"
Pandi blinked in surprise but recovered quickly. "Sure. But I don't think a restaurant is the best place to talk about…everything."
"I agree," Zay replied without batting an eye. "How about we get it to-go and eat at your place?"
Pandi had a harder time recovering from that one. "What? My place?"
Zay nodded, standing up and smoothing his shirt. "If we go to Noah and Camille's place, everyone is gonna eavesdrop on us." His eyebrows drew together. "You don't still live with your ex, do you?"
Pandi shuddered at the thought. "No. That'd be a whole different level of hell. We never exactly lived together before. Our schedules never aligned, and we couldn't make it work." He smiled ruefully. "Just like our entire marriage, I guess." He shrugged, brushing away those depressing thoughts. "Anyway, yeah, my place is fine. There's no one to hear anything we say there." A beat later, he realized how it sounded and facepalmed. "I sound like a creep."
"No, you don't!" Zay protested, but when Pandi raised an eyebrow at him, he laughed and conceded, "Okay, you kinda do. But it's fine. Noah and Camille and the Holts trust you, and I trust you too. I'm not worried about you being a creep. You're the furthest thing from that, Pandi."
Pandi nodded, unsure what else to do, and followed Zay out of the office, locking the door behind them for the second time that day.
Zay ordered the food on his phone to be delivered to Pandi's apartment and then followed Pandi there in his car. "Wow, nice building," he said as soon as they were in the elevator heading up.
"Thanks." Pandi smiled to himself. He had always prided himself on picking good buildings, even he he had lived on the budget of a struggling college student. "I've lived here for about five years now."
Zay glanced askance at him. "Has your ex ever come over to this apartment?"
Pandi swallowed hard, fearing his answer would be enough to turn Zay away. But he would not start this conversation by being dishonest. "Yes."
Zay's eyebrow lifted ever so slightly. "Is that why you're nervous about bringing me here? Don't want me and memories of fucking your ex in the same place?"
Pandi felt his face turn crimson. Mostly because Zay was not far off from the truth. "That was a little blunt," he pointed out instead of answering the question.
Zay smirked like he knew precisely what Pandi was thinking. "Okay, so that's a yes. And yeah, I'm blunt. I thought you would've figured that out by now."
Shaking his head, Pandi replied, "I have. It's just…I thought you might be a little nicer tonight?"
Zay scoffed. "Hell, no. I'm gonna be brutal tonight so you know exactly who I am. I don't fuck with being nice for a conversation that requires my honesty."
"You could be a little nice," Pandi muttered, stepping off the elevator as the doors chimed and slid open. He led Zay down the hall to his apartment, which was not far. He liked to be close to the exit. Just in case. He unlocked the door and held it open for Zay. "I'd prefer it if you took your shoes off, but I understand if you're not comfortable doing that." He took off his own shoes and slid his feet into house slippers. He had a guest pair (not Aimee's, he had thrown hers out), but he was not expecting Zay to use them.
But Zay kicked his shoes off and shoved the slippers onto his feet. "Not to be racist or anything, but this is like an Asian thing, right?"
Pandi chuckled. "Don't worry, I'm not offended. Yeah, it's an Asian thing. Keeps the floors clean too. Less work for me when I deep clean every weekend."
Zay stopped short, staring at Pandi like a ghost had just slapped his face. "You deep clean that consistently?"
"I started doing it when I moved here after grad school ended and Aimee and I had figured out we couldn't live together." Pandi shrugged. "Had to find something to keep me sane."
Zay's whole face collapsed like Pandi had told him his dog had died or something equally tragic. "That must've been awful for you. I'm so sorry for making fun of you earlier."
Pandi wanted to tell Zay not to worry about it, but he knew he needed to be mature. So he said, "I accept your apology. No hard feelings. You didn't know me or Aimee at the time, so you'd naturally have no way of knowing what it was like."
"That shouldn't give me leeway to be a jerk." Zay sighed heavily. "I'm sorry for being such a jerk."
"I already accepted your apology," Pandi said, grabbing plates out of the cabinet and silverware from the drawer for when the food arrived. "For all executive purposes, what you said is firmly in the past. Stop worrying about it."
Finally, Zay nodded. "Okay." He traced his hand along the back of Pandi's couch, his fingers running along the bumps in the seam.
"You wanna sit down?" Pandi placed the plates and silverware down on the table. "We can sit on the couch til the food comes."
Zay nodded again and sat in one corner of the couch, smushed up against the arm.
To make him feel comfortable, Pandi sat on the other end of the couch, but he sat fully on the cushion. He knew his own furniture well enough to know cramming himself back in the corner would not be comfortable at all. This conversation was already making him nervous. He did not need to be uncomfortable as well. "So…what are your thoughts on what I said last Friday?"