Havoc by Angie Merriam Page A

exhale escapes him. He raises his
whiskey glass to his lips and growls, “Noted.” My eyes look down at
Haven, who can sense the tension and is retreating inside herself.
Assuming Sir senses it as well, he continues his conversation,
“Those who will be helping your transition are around the room.
Let's start with Mindy Callaghan.”
    “The nosy neighbor lady?” Haven’s description
catches Sir off guard.
    I chortle. Her memory works just fine. “Yes.
Her.”
    Unsure of what we're talking about, Sir
continues, “This is her home. She's a chef. Lives to cook. Grows
all her own fruits and vegetables, often enough for most of us.
Mindy is married to Doug,” he points, “who was one of the
highest-paid lawyers in Texas for several years before he stepped
out of the game, for the most part.”
    Doug is the same height as his wife with her
heels on. He has a slight humped-over back, a graying beard, as
well as frosted tips of gray on his dark brown hair, which swirls
perfectly on top of his head. His skin is pale in comparison to
hers, wrinkled from lack of exercise or possibly from too much
stress he's swallowed in his time.
    “Why'd he stop?” Haven blurts out.
    “Many of us have secrets here. We look to one
another not only for shelter but redemption, not to live alone with
the demons that tried to consume us but rather to glimmer in the
restoration we have given each other. We’ve become one through the
pain and take a stance to help others the way society avoided
helping us.” Sir raises his glass and tips it toward the
Callaghans, who are positioned next to the fireplace, engaged in
flirty conversation with one another. They tip back, their
attention returning to each other right after the gesture.
    I know many of these secrets, but some are
still a mystery to me, including what brought my own parents here.
I've never asked, and Sir has never told. I guess it never really
mattered why we moved here, just that we had.
    His brief overview continues with a
nonchalant head tilt. “To the left—the man holding that woman's
hand—his name is Christopher Striker, an ER surgeon. The woman is
his wife, Professor Lexi Lu. The young woman lingering close to the
bar area is Leighyani, their daughter.” My eyes steal a short
glance at Le Le, who is giggling behind a wine glass. “She's a
student at the Dechert Able University downtown. She, Clint, and
Howard are all the same age.”
    Haven turns to see the view that I have, the
plate of food she was enjoying now basically empty.
    “Leighyani and Howard have no idea what
haunts their parents or what each of us has done for each other.
They only know that, if there's ever danger or they are in trouble,
someone can get them out. Any one of us will get them out. Clint’s
the exception—he’s the only one who knows the truth or some of it
anyway.” Sir’s finger taps the side of his glass, “And now you. I
expect that you will keep the information to yourself.”
    The fact that he even considers she can't be
trusted agates me. My legs shift. My fingertips drum the side of
the couch as I try to take deep breaths. I have to remain calm. I
have to stay stable no matter how much I feel Sir is out of line
for thinking she would betray us. God, if I could get my own head
out of my ass for just a minute I wouldn't second guess his need to
be assured she wouldn't let her mouth run away from her. It's
logical. Strategic. Wise. Damn.
    After Haven nods, Sir resumes speaking, “Anna
and Felix West are settled at the dining table with their son
Howard. Anna is branch manager at a local bank, a retired hacker
from a government agency. Felix owns quite an amount of land in
Reckonberg and a few of the surrounding cities as well his own
construction company, which happens to put up most of the houses on
the land once he sells it. Howard–”
    My tongue flies without thinking, “Who
attends the same university as Le Le, has a heavy drinking problem,
an addiction to throwing his