Gadisku

Chapter One

The body lay in perfect repose on the Victorian fainting couch, looking more like a sleeping beauty than a victim. Detective Sarah Chen had seen enough death in her ten years with the Metropolitan Police's Special Cases Unit to know that natural death never looked this peaceful. Something was very, very wrong.

        'No signs of struggle, no marks on the body, and yet...' She leaned closer, studying the victim's face. Charlotte Mills, aged 28, was found by her roommate this morning, apparently having passed away in her sleep. Her expression was serene, almost blissful, but her eyes - those were what caught Sarah's attention. Behind the closed lids, her eyes were moving rapidly, as if still deep in REM sleep.

        "You see it too, don't you?" The voice came from behind her, rich and cultured with a slight Irish lilt. "She's still dreaming."

        Sarah turned to find a tall man in an impeccably tailored charcoal suit standing in the doorway. He hadn't been there a moment ago, she was certain of it. His dark hair was streaked with silver at the temples, and his eyes were an unusual shade of amber that seemed to shift color in the light.

        "This is a closed crime scene," she said firmly, her hand instinctively moving toward her weapon. "How did you get in here?"

        He smiled, but it didn't reach those strange eyes. "Dr. Marcus Thorne," he said, pulling out a card that somehow both looked official and seemed to shimmer slightly. "I'm a consulting specialist with the Department's new Oneiric Phenomena Division."

        "The what division?" Sarah frowned, taking the card. The moment her fingers touched it, she felt a slight electric tingle, and the letters seemed to rearrange themselves before her eyes.

        "Dreams, Detective Chen. We investigate crimes involving dreams." He moved into the room with fluid grace, his attention fixed on the victim. "And this is the third one this month."

        Sarah's mind raced. There had been two other deaths recently - both young women, both found peacefully dead in their sleep. She'd seen the reports but hadn't made the connection until now. "How do you know about those cases?"

        "Because I've been tracking the killer for quite some time." Thorne knelt beside the body, his eyes now definitely more gold than amber. "He's what we call a Dream Collector - someone who has learned to enter and steal dreams. But this one has developed a taste for more than just dreams. He's taking souls."

        Under normal circumstances, Sarah would have dismissed such talk as nonsense. But there was something about the scene, about the victim's still-moving eyes, about Thorne himself, that made the impossible seem suddenly plausible.

        "If you're tracking him," she said carefully, "why haven't you caught him?"

        Thorne's expression darkened. "Because he only appears in dreams. The physical world is my domain, but his... his is the realm of sleep. To catch him, we need someone who can walk between both worlds." He turned those unsettling eyes on her. "Someone like you."

        "Me?" Sarah almost laughed, but the sound died in her throat as memories she'd long suppressed began to surface. The dreams that felt too real, the nights she'd awakened to find objects moved in her room, the way she sometimes knew things she couldn't possibly know...

        "You've always known you were different, haven't you, Detective?" Thorne's voice was gentle now. "The dreams that come true, the hunches that turn out to be right, the way you can sometimes see how people died just by touching objects they owned..."

        Sarah took an involuntary step back. "How do you know about that?"

        "Because I've been looking for someone like you. A Natural - someone born with the ability to cross the threshold between waking and dreaming." He gestured to the victim. "Charlotte here won't be his last. There will be others, and their souls will remain trapped in an eternal dream unless we stop him."

        Just then, the victim's hand twitched, her fingers moving as if writing something. Sarah moved closer, watching as invisible words were traced in the air. Thorne pulled out what looked like an antique monocle and held it up. Through its lens, golden letters shimmered in the air where Charlotte's fingers moved.

        "Help me," Thorne read aloud. "He's coming for the others."

        Sarah felt a chill run down her spine. She looked at the victim's peaceful face, at those restlessly moving eyes, and made a decision that would change her life forever.

        "Tell me what I need to do."

        Thorne's smile was grim. "First, you need to learn to control your abilities. Then..." he held up the monocle, through which Sarah could now see strange symbols glowing all around the room, "you need to learn to hunt in dreams."

        Outside the Victorian townhouse, storm clouds gathered, and Sarah Chen, homicide detective and newly discovered dream walker, took her first step into a world where nightmares were real, and death was just another kind of sleep.

Chapter Two

The basement of the Natural History Museum was the last place Sarah expected to find the headquarters of a secret dream investigation unit. Yet here she was, following Thorne through a maze of storage rooms filled with artifacts that seemed to pulse with their own inner light.

        "The mundane world only sees what it expects to see," Thorne explained, using an ornate key to unlock a heavy wooden door marked 'Private Collection.' "To them, this is just museum storage. To us, it's the largest collection of dream artifacts in the Western Hemisphere."

        The room beyond defied physics. It stretched impossibly far, filled with glass cases containing everything from ancient masks to modern-looking devices. Floating orbs of soft light illuminated collections of bottled dreams - actual dreams, swirling like liquid mercury behind glass.

        "Your badge, Detective," Thorne held out his hand. Sarah hesitated before handing over her police credentials. He placed it on a strange device that looked like a Victorian music box crossed with a computer. When he returned the badge, it felt different - heavier, somehow more real.

        "Now you'll be able to access both worlds officially," he said. "Look at it again."

        The badge had changed. Alongside her regular police credentials, new text had appeared: 'Special Inspector, Oneiric Investigations Division.' The letters seemed to shift between English and something older, something that made her eyes water if she looked too long.

        "Before we can hunt the Dream Collector, you need to understand what you're dealing with." Thorne led her to a case containing what looked like a normal pillow. "Touch it."

        Sarah reached out hesitantly. The moment her fingers made contact, the world tilted. She was suddenly standing in someone else's dream - a sunny beach, but the sky was green and the sand whispered secrets. She jerked her hand back, gasping.

        "Good," Thorne nodded approvingly. "Most people can't pull back from their first dream artifact. You have natural barriers."

        "What was that?" Sarah's heart was racing.

        "A dream fragment from 1892. A young girl's last dream before the influenza took her." His voice softened. "We preserve them here. Dreams carry memories, emotions, sometimes even pieces of souls."

        "And this Dream Collector... he takes entire souls?" Sarah remembered Charlotte Mills' peaceful face and restless eyes.

        "He traps them in eternal dreams, feeding off their essence." Thorne moved to another case, this one containing what looked like a cracked mirror. "Each victim becomes part of his collection, their souls powering his abilities, letting him dreamwalk without natural talent like yours."

        Suddenly, the cracked mirror began to frost over. In its surface, Sarah saw Charlotte Mills' face, mouth open in a silent scream. Then another face appeared - another victim, she presumed - and another.

        "He's showing off," Thorne growled. "He knows we're investigating."

        The temperature in the room dropped dramatically. Frost patterns spread from the mirror to nearby cases, and Sarah heard what sounded like distant laughter.

        "Well, well," a voice echoed through the room, seemingly coming from everywhere and nowhere. "A new player in the game. And such interesting dreams you have, Detective Chen."

        Sarah felt something brush against her mind, like cold fingers trying to pry open a door. Instinctively, she slammed her mental barriers shut. The presence withdrew, but not before leaving behind an impression of amusement.

        "He's already caught your scent," Thorne said grimly. He pulled out a small velvet bag and removed what looked like a dreamcatcher made of silver wire and black pearls. "Wear this when you sleep. It won't keep him out entirely, but it'll stop him from stealing your dreams while you're still learning to defend yourself."

        As Sarah took the dreamcatcher, her fingers brushed Thorne's, and suddenly she was hit with a flash of his dreams - centuries of memories, battles fought in realms of sleep, and a profound sense of loss that made her gasp.

        Thorne withdrew his hand quickly. "Your abilities are stronger than I thought. We'll need to work on your control."

        "What are you?" Sarah asked directly. "You're not just some government consultant, are you?"

        Before he could answer, an alarm began to sound throughout the facility. One of the dream bottles had turned black, its contents writhing like smoke.

        "He's hunting again," Thorne said, already moving toward the exit. "Someone in the city has just entered their last dream. Are you ready for your first real case, Detective?"

        Sarah touched her new badge, feeling its power hum under her fingers. "Do we have time to save them?"

        "If we're lucky, we might catch him in the act. But remember - in dreams, he's incredibly powerful. One wrong move and you could lose your soul."

        As they rushed from the dream archive, Sarah caught one last glimpse of the cracked mirror. In its surface, she saw her own reflection smile back at her with eyes that weren't quite her own.

        The hunt was about to begin.

Chapter Two

The basement of the Natural History Museum was the last place Sarah expected to find the headquarters of a secret dream investigation unit. Yet here she was, following Thorne through a maze of storage rooms filled with artifacts that seemed to pulse with their own inner light.

        "The mundane world only sees what it expects to see," Thorne explained, using an ornate key to unlock a heavy wooden door marked 'Private Collection.' "To them, this is just museum storage. To us, it's the largest collection of dream artifacts in the Western Hemisphere."

        The room beyond defied physics. It stretched impossibly far, filled with glass cases containing everything from ancient masks to modern-looking devices. Floating orbs of soft light illuminated collections of bottled dreams - actual dreams, swirling like liquid mercury behind glass.

        "Your badge, Detective," Thorne held out his hand. Sarah hesitated before handing over her police credentials. He placed it on a strange device that looked like a Victorian music box crossed with a computer. When he returned the badge, it felt different - heavier, somehow more real.

        "Now you'll be able to access both worlds officially," he said. "Look at it again."

        The badge had changed. Alongside her regular police credentials, new text had appeared: 'Special Inspector, Oneiric Investigations Division.' The letters seemed to shift between English and something older, something that made her eyes water if she looked too long.

        "Before we can hunt the Dream Collector, you need to understand what you're dealing with." Thorne led her to a case containing what looked like a normal pillow. "Touch it."

        Sarah reached out hesitantly. The moment her fingers made contact, the world tilted. She was suddenly standing in someone else's dream - a sunny beach, but the sky was green and the sand whispered secrets. She jerked her hand back, gasping.

        "Good," Thorne nodded approvingly. "Most people can't pull back from their first dream artifact. You have natural barriers."

        "What was that?" Sarah's heart was racing.

        "A dream fragment from 1892. A young girl's last dream before the influenza took her." His voice softened. "We preserve them here. Dreams carry memories, emotions, sometimes even pieces of souls."

        "And this Dream Collector... he takes entire souls?" Sarah remembered Charlotte Mills' peaceful face and restless eyes.

        "He traps them in eternal dreams, feeding off their essence." Thorne moved to another case, this one containing what looked like a cracked mirror. "Each victim becomes part of his collection, their souls powering his abilities, letting him dreamwalk without natural talent like yours."

        Suddenly, the cracked mirror began to frost over. In its surface, Sarah saw Charlotte Mills' face, mouth open in a silent scream. Then another face appeared - another victim, she presumed - and another.

        "He's showing off," Thorne growled. "He knows we're investigating."

        The temperature in the room dropped dramatically. Frost patterns spread from the mirror to nearby cases, and Sarah heard what sounded like distant laughter.

        "Well, well," a voice echoed through the room, seemingly coming from everywhere and nowhere. "A new player in the game. And such interesting dreams you have, Detective Chen."

        Sarah felt something brush against her mind, like cold fingers trying to pry open a door. Instinctively, she slammed her mental barriers shut. The presence withdrew, but not before leaving behind an impression of amusement.

        "He's already caught your scent," Thorne said grimly. He pulled out a small velvet bag and removed what looked like a dreamcatcher made of silver wire and black pearls. "Wear this when you sleep. It won't keep him out entirely, but it'll stop him from stealing your dreams while you're still learning to defend yourself."

        As Sarah took the dreamcatcher, her fingers brushed Thorne's, and suddenly she was hit with a flash of his dreams - centuries of memories, battles fought in realms of sleep, and a profound sense of loss that made her gasp.

        Thorne withdrew his hand quickly. "Your abilities are stronger than I thought. We'll need to work on your control."

        "What are you?" Sarah asked directly. "You're not just some government consultant, are you?"

        Before he could answer, an alarm began to sound throughout the facility. One of the dream bottles had turned black, its contents writhing like smoke.

        "He's hunting again," Thorne said, already moving toward the exit. "Someone in the city has just entered their last dream. Are you ready for your first real case, Detective?"

        Sarah touched her new badge, feeling its power hum under her fingers. "Do we have time to save them?"

        "If we're lucky, we might catch him in the act. But remember - in dreams, he's incredibly powerful. One wrong move and you could lose your soul."

        As they rushed from the dream archive, Sarah caught one last glimpse of the cracked mirror. In its surface, she saw her own reflection smile back at her with eyes that weren't quite her own.

        The hunt was about to begin.

Chapter Three

They arrived at St. Bartholomew's Hospital just as the emergency lights began to flash. Sarah followed Thorne through corridors that seemed to blur at the edges of her vision, her new badge somehow clearing their path without ever being shown.

        "Room 307," Thorne said, his voice tight with urgency. "Young male, admitted for minor surgery, slipped into an unusual coma during recovery."

        The patient, David Parker, age 23, lay perfectly still on his hospital bed, his eyes moving rapidly beneath closed lids. Just like Charlotte Mills. But this time, something was different - the air around him rippled like heat waves over hot asphalt.

        "He's still in the process of taking him," Thorne said, pulling out what looked like an antique pocket watch. "We can follow if we're quick. Are you ready for your first dream dive?"

        Sarah's heart pounded. "What do I need to do?"

        "Take my hand. Focus on the patient. Let your consciousness slip between the moments of reality." Thorne's eyes began to glow that strange amber color. "And whatever you see in there, remember - dream logic is real logic in that world."

        Sarah grasped Thorne's hand and looked at David Parker. The world tilted, twisted, and suddenly...

        They were standing in a hospital corridor that wasn't quite right. The walls breathed slowly, the floor was made of flowing water that somehow supported their weight, and the ceiling was a swirling mass of constellation maps.

        "His dreamscape," Thorne explained, his voice echoing strangely. "Every dreamer creates their own reality. Look."

        Down the impossible corridor, a figure in a doctor's coat was leading David Parker by the hand. But the 'doctor' was wrong - his shadow moved independently, reaching out with grasping tendrils towards other dreams that floated past like soap bubbles.

        "The Dream Collector," Sarah whispered.

        As if hearing his name, the figure turned. Sarah's breath caught. His face was a beautiful mask of shifting features, never settling on one form, but his eyes... his eyes were endless pits of swirling dreams.

        "Ah, the new dreamer," his voice was like silk over broken glass. "And my old friend Marcus. Still trying to police the dream worlds?"

        Thorne stepped forward, and Sarah noticed his appearance had changed in the dream. His suit was now made of living shadows, and wings of dark light stretched from his shoulders. "Let him go, Collector. You've taken enough souls."

        The Collector laughed, the sound causing the hospital walls to crack, leaking golden dream-light. "Taken? Oh, Marcus, you still don't understand. They give themselves to me. Show her, David."

        The young man turned, and Sarah saw his eyes were glassy with bliss. "It's beautiful here," he said dreamily. "All my pain is gone. All my fears. He takes them all away."

        "By taking everything you are," Sarah found herself saying. She took a step forward, instinctively reaching for her police badge. In the dream, it transformed into a shield of pure light. "David, this isn't real healing. It's theft."

        The Collector's face rippled with anger. "You dare interrupt my collection?" The corridor began to twist, reality bending around them. "Let me show you what happens to those who interfere with my work."

        Suddenly, the floor beneath Sarah liquefied completely. She started to sink, but instead of water, she was drowning in dreams - thousands of them, each containing a fragment of someone's stolen soul. She saw Charlotte Mills dancing endlessly in a ballroom of mirrors, saw other victims trapped in perfect moments that had become eternal prisons.

        "Sarah!" Thorne's voice cut through the chaos. "Remember - dream logic! Make your own rules!"

        Dream logic. Sarah closed her eyes, focusing on her years of police work, of protecting people, of solving puzzles. When she opened them, her badge-shield had transformed into a sword of pure thought.

        With a cry, she slashed through the dream-flood. Reality reasserted itself - or at least, this dream's version of reality. She stood on solid ground again, facing the Collector.

        "Impressive," he purred, but she sensed uncertainty in his voice. "You're stronger than the usual dreamers Marcus recruits. Perhaps we could make a deal..."

        "No deals," Sarah said firmly. She could feel her power growing, reshaping the dream around them. "David, look at what he really is. Look with your heart, not your fears."

        For a moment, David's eyes cleared. The Collector's beautiful mask slipped, revealing something ancient and hungry beneath. David screamed, pulling away from the creature's grasp.

        The Collector snarled, his form shifting into something monstrous. "If I can't have him willingly..." Shadows exploded from his body, reaching for David.

        What happened next seemed to unfold in slow motion. Thorne spread his dark wings, shielding David. Sarah's sword of thought became a net of light, trapping some of the shadows. But the Collector himself simply... stepped sideways, vanishing into a door that appeared in the air.

        "Sweet dreams, detectives," his voice lingered behind. "We'll meet again soon. After all, Sarah, your dreams are particularly... appetizing."

        The dreamscape began to dissolve. Sarah felt Thorne grab her arm, pulling her back through layers of reality. Then...

        They were standing in the hospital room again. David Parker was awake, gasping, but alive and whole. A nurse was rushing in, responding to his sudden revival.

        "We saved one," Thorne said quietly. "But he'll be angry now. And he'll come for you."

        Sarah touched her badge, still feeling echoes of its dream-power. "Good," she said grimly. "Because I have some questions for him about Charlotte Mills. And about what you really are, Marcus Thorne."

        Thorne's expression was unreadable. "All in time, Detective. For now, you need to rest. Tomorrow, your real training begins."

        As they left the hospital, Sarah could have sworn she saw her shadow move independently, reaching for dreams that floated just beyond the edge of sight. The world would never look quite the same again.

Chapter Four

Sarah's apartment looked different when she returned that night. The shadows seemed deeper, more alive, and ordinary objects cast reflections that didn't quite match reality. The dreamcatcher Thorne had given her pulsed softly in her pocket, responding to the changed way she now saw the world.

        She was exhausted but afraid to sleep. The Collector's words echoed in her mind: 'Your dreams are particularly appetizing.' Instead, she spread her case files across the coffee table - photographs of Charlotte Mills, the other victims, and now David Parker's medical records.

        A soft chime from her badge interrupted her concentration. The metal had grown warm, and when she touched it, words appeared in that strange shifting script: 'Archive. Now. Emergency.'

        The museum was different at night. Sarah's new badge led her through doors that hadn't existed during her first visit, down stairs that seemed to descend far deeper than the building's foundation should allow. She found Thorne in a circular room she hadn't seen before, surrounded by floating screens of light that showed various dreamscapes.

        "We have a problem," he said without preamble. "The Collector's attack pattern has changed. Look."

        The screens shifted, showing a map of the city overlaid with points of light. "Each light is a dreamer," Thorne explained. "The blue ones are normal dreams. The red..." He gestured, and several dots pulsed an angry crimson. "Those are nightmares being actively shaped by outside forces."

        "He's attacking multiple targets at once?"

        "No." Thorne's expression was grim. "He's leaving traps. Dream-snares. Anyone who falls asleep in these areas risks being pulled into a constructed nightmare. He's trying to overwhelm our ability to respond."

        Sarah studied the pattern of red dots. "They're forming a shape... a symbol?"

        "A summoning circle." A new voice joined them. Sarah turned to see an elderly woman emerging from what appeared to be a door made of starlight. Her eyes were milk-white, but she moved with absolute certainty.

        "Sarah, meet Dr. Eleanor Price, the Archive's keeper," Thorne said. "And yes, she's blind in the waking world, but in dreams..."

        "I see everything," Eleanor finished. Her unseeing eyes fixed on Sarah with uncomfortable accuracy. "Including what our friend the Collector is truly planning. He's not just taking souls anymore. He's building toward something larger."

        She gestured, and the room transformed around them. They were suddenly standing in what looked like a vast library, but the books were made of dreams, their pages flowing like liquid memory.

        "Every dream ever archived is stored here," Eleanor explained. "Including the oldest nightmares of humanity. The Collector isn't just a thief - he's trying to wake something that should stay sleeping. Something we locked away centuries ago."

        She pulled a book from the shelf, and its pages burst open, projecting a scene of ancient horror - a time when the boundary between dreams and reality was thinner, when nightmares could walk in daylight.

        "The Last Nightmare," Thorne said softly. "We thought it was safely contained, but if he completes that summoning circle..."

        A sudden tremor ran through the Archive. One of the red dots on the map had grown larger, pulsing violently.

        "He's starting," Eleanor's voice was urgent. "Sarah, you need to see something before you face this." She pressed her fingers to Sarah's forehead, and suddenly...

        She was in a memory. A younger Thorne stood with a woman who looked remarkably like Sarah herself, facing down a shadow that threatened to devour the world. The woman - another dream detective? - sacrificed herself to help seal away the nightmare.

        "Your mother," Eleanor's voice echoed in her mind. "She was one of us. Her sacrifice helped lock away the Last Nightmare, but the Collector has never stopped trying to free it. And now he's found you - her daughter, with her power."

        The vision ended abruptly as another tremor shook the Archive. More red dots were pulsing on the map.

        "Why didn't you tell me?" Sarah demanded, turning to Thorne.

        "Because I promised her I'd keep you away from this life," he replied, pain evident in his voice. "But now the Collector knows who you are, and we're running out of time."

        "The summoning circle will be complete at the next new moon," Eleanor added. "Three days from now. If the Last Nightmare wakes..."

        "Then we stop him before that happens," Sarah said firmly, though her mind was reeling from the revelations. "How do we break these dream-snares?"

        "It's dangerous," Thorne warned. "Each one is a trap designed specifically for dream walkers. If you're caught..."

        "Then you'll just have to watch my back," Sarah said. She touched her badge, feeling its power respond. "Where do we start?"

        Eleanor smiled, her blind eyes somehow twinkling. "First, you need to understand what you truly inherited from your mother. It's time you learned about the true history of the dream walkers - and why the Collector fears your bloodline above all others."

        As if in response to Eleanor's words, the books around them began to glow, their pages rustling with the weight of secrets about to be revealed. In the map above, the red dots pulsed like a countdown to catastrophe, and Sarah realized she had less than three days to master powers she never knew she had.

        The true game was about to begin.

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Bab 1
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"Sxifa'laqn,É Luwnas,b"& y)aunkg m$embu)atku mIemb.u_kaH QkeIljoqpwa!k maItakóu.
Tapi suara yang bergemuruh dan dalam yang mengatakannya yang membuatku mengarahkan bola mataku ke arah pria yang berdiri sekitar sepuluh kaki jauhnya.
Pria yang meletakkan tangannya di pinggulnya sambil mengerutkan keningnya.
Padaku.
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Siapa aku bercanda? Saya berani bertaruh semua uang saya itulah alasannya.
Ketika aku melihatnya pagi itu membungkuk di atas kap truk GMC awal 1950-an yang terbuka, sedikit kemeja kompresi putih yang terlihat di balik baju dalamnya, aku tahu dia sedang dalam suasana hati yang buruk untuk memulai. Bukan berarti setiap orang pernah berada dalam suasana hati yang baik pada hari Jumat pagi, tapi... pria yang memelototiku itu selalu berada dalam suasana hati yang buruk ketika dia mengenakan pakaian putih. Itu adalah fakta.
Itu jelas tidak membantu, ketika saya membawakan secangkir kopi untuknya pagi itu, dia bertanya kepada saya, "Apakah kamu sudah memutuskan?"
Dan sepXeKrtPia set^iafpI mkalci Ddri$a( miePnanyYakaxn .peMr^tIanyaman by_angQ samaO,* Nsda^ya ^meYmb^eri^kan hjsaRwSab*azn yanzgw sRamaQ _seHperti) aycanWg! iselanlRuZ dpa'nm óaka_n dseltall_u sGa.ya Ul,akCuXkaanY. h"OAUh, tidmakx."Y
Anda akan membayangkan dia akhirnya mulai mengharapkan jawabanku setelah tujuh ratus kali menanyakan pertanyaan yang sama dan mendapatkan jawaban yang sama, tetapi itu masih membuatnya jengkel setelah sekian lama.
Dan meskipun itu tidak sepenuhnya di luar norma baginya-bosku, salah satu dari dua bosku, jika kau ingin menjadi teknis-untuk mengatakan "Sialan, Luna," itu juga tidak umum. Aku tidak suka mendapat masalah. Teman-teman saya telah mengatakan lebih dari beberapa kali bahwa saya alergi jika ada orang yang marah atau kecewa dengan saya. Itu adalah kutukan yang belum berhasil saya hilangkan, tidak peduli berapa kali itu bekerja melawan saya.
Saya tidak bisa menahan diri untuk tidak memberikan senyuman kepada pria dengan tangan di pinggulnya dan kerutan di wajahnya. Saya berpikir untuk mengedipkan mata padanya karena saya tahu betapa mengedipkan mata membuatnya jengkel, tapi saya tidak melakukannya. Lagipula, hari itu adalah hari kemeja putih, dan saya harus menghemat energi sebisa mungkin ketika saya masih memiliki setidaknya delapan jam tersisa sebelum saya harus pulang ke rumah untuk akhir pekan.
"YLaX?"^ AFkwu mhejnmjaw'abhnky'a dengfatn ^jaFwabHa)n zyaInng ti_dNak syebsóuai PdenégLanJ yapa jyKang Wkunl)akukan,) YLzuna,S hbquqkPaninYy^a a!pa yanlg qkXulaknuukan? Akóu ItXi_dPak! mvelakugkanM ÉseWsuaBtOu ,y^ang ZsalOath depnUgMana Émgemejahmkapng maltackuR ÉsMe$la.m!aV bUeGbekrTa)pDa Amweni)t.
...secara teknis.
Ripley menyipitkan matanya, berhasil mengarahkan pandangannya hanya padaku, mengabaikan tujuh karyawan tetap lainnya yang duduk di sekitar ruang istirahat tempat kami mengadakan pertemuan mingguan setiap hari Jumat. Pada pukul sembilan pagi, dua jam setelah aku biasanya masuk kerja, setiap karyawan di Cooper's Collision and Customs masuk untuk mendengarkan bos kami membahas hal-hal seperti proyek yang akan datang, proyek saat ini, pembaruan status, masalah, keluhan, berdebat tentang siapa yang berlebihan dengan penyegar udara di kamar mandi....
Itu tidak terlalu menyenangkan, dan bukan rahasia lagi bahwa kami hanya menderita melalui rapat karena kami dibayar untuk itu. Cukup sulit untuk tetap terjaga di pagi hari selama minggu kerja, tetapi pada hari Jumat dengan akhir pekan yang hanya beberapa jam lagi, ditambah panasnya begitu banyak tubuh yang duduk-duduk? Hampir mustahil untuk tidak memejamkan mata.
BeHg'aLdKahnygr phiDnggwa *lew&act Ptengahy imal'am Xu&nltuk rmetnolntoCn ftilm pmemnaÉkRutkDabn gdeLnganw LiPlFyB jpugqaK JtidTakY mgeÉm(baéntuuG, ptQeYtvawpil dk!ettzik!a diiHa !be,ritManyab,s aHkué bti(dOaikD btiOs_a me)néem^ukan'néya dhaClsamF dir&ikua ÉunQtukÉ meRngaBthaOkan NtmiudaRkR.. WdaIkpt$uÉ kaamIi bÉersamTaé Phampfir rhSabTis,u AdBaZnC sCayJal taXhu suraRtuX *harió nsa!ya akWan ÉmRenHye_sa(l t*iydakc DmAemanfacahtkan Os_etilanpÉ kbemseFmpaPtjaNn cyang_ kQamit Jm(ibljikpi (u'nttyuRkK bPeLrkudmppGuilu. BSéayYa tfenlah mGemppel&ajéaYrri pIel)ajaran !iJtu dZePnngqaBnm duBa sauVdarNaU p,e.rweWmKpQucaBn Ésaya yanOgv lkaTiOnL.j
Tetapi saya cukup yakin bahwa pria yang memelototi saya saat itu tidak tahu atau peduli tentang semua itu, dan kata-kata berikutnya menegaskan hal itu.
"Bukankah kita sudah membicarakan tentang tidur siang selama pertemuan kita?" Ripley mengajukan pertanyaan dengan nada yang tidak terlalu bagus.
Bukan berarti itu tidak pernah benar-benar baik.
Ak&u terusó mernaZtyapTnya sjaZmbilk tBeUtQap! bcer(ada Édif pIos'ipsji yangS dsWama (dóepngannkuM k_eytWikCa d_ia* memfanggilQkfu nkNeluarO - metrdosnoTt dd.i wataIsR lmóejla) dPenJgkan ÉsnikkuW Utmer^tanMam$ udmi at*asAn_yaJ, daNguz *dciysaZngwgYa d^i )tpapnVgPaÉnkzu kyang tCerbIuDka.d .AglXiha-,aslih k*edDuHa mUatSakau$ teMrktuYtBupG, $akkvub hanjyda mDe'mrbukja. saFtud maata.r BSaya tze$tap LtelrsevnzyÉum. qswa_atn Wsca'yam mDe)ntgaOtaLkan (ksepwadanayBa' jbagwawban yKaPnPg Jka(mRi berduSar CsfadarhiB sOeBpuebnuuhnya,B "Ya., (kamqi xm^eMmzbicarOakMa&nBnyaq.$" UnJtuZk bxerjkanga-ijDahga IjGiKkaa diLay Mlu*p)ax aKpab Lyaang NsegbyeLnarXnyAa) d!iaJ kaDtdaxkxani, usvaayaF émTengiangatkavnnyUas.F "MAndax tmóenhgVa(twaqk'aJn k'ekpaZdUa sfaya unRt!uIkZ ytijdHakU melWaBkCuhkcannyKa."M
Karena dia punya. Luna, kau harus berhenti tidur selama rapat. Jika kau ingin tidur siang, tunggulah delapan jam sampai kau tiba di rumah, mengerti? Kami telah melakukan percakapan itu secara tertutup dan dengan Tuan Cooper-orang yang telah mempekerjakanku, bos dan pemilik asliku, dan sejak tiga tahun yang lalu, yang sekarang menjadi pemilik bersama Cooper's Collision and Customs-hadir.
Saya telah menerima pesannya, dan saya menghormatinya.
Bos saya, setidaknya yang mengerutkan kening pada saya, tidak bereaksi secara fisik terhadap jawaban saya. Dia bahkan tidak berkedip saat dia mengkonfirmasi apa yang jelas-jelas kami berdua ketahui, "Ya. Itulah yang saya katakan."
DiZ sampDin*gJnbya, Bt*etapÉi vmetnOahahnJ daiOrCi* sewcfar_a évbebrmbCal, gPuakg uClogopeCrF tAewrGbha*t*ukÉ-bVatubk tentÉarpmi ti)dak m$eSnga&tyakan s'epaytYah tkóaktau &pFunv. SaXydaX stidak tóekrsgiRngagZuFngé.G AÉkiu Gsu)daUh acuku)p XsePriYnsg( _mendéenDgbar cperqte'nVgTkarYan) memre(kHa Auntuk ómeWnngeNtSahuRi mba,hwLa_ merseWka LsTud.a(h Ncukup klYapmXaG bPera&da )di! tPiNtxizk iJni PdaCl.aóm( Lhubu$nuganF nk)erOja meWrweka-,be(rqbeda *pemndQaLpSatw slactyu samHaq l.abin( teta&pki tFidak vbRerdebaUt fdi dqepan YkraDmÉi. SIayaZ cCukup JyaOkin& UbxahCwaP OsasyÉa bukaXn As)aAtu-sAatu*nya' Dyang$ LtBidalkW mPewrxinLd*ukQaWnZ fWaksmeK Jiitu Vdalfam$ ,kehHitdunplaNnA kfalmni (dip xCuCC. FUrnftvukU semxenTtkarJap wakMtuN,s Gkamgi psegmYua jtePlahH mzeYnQg,uQasai *dudmuk dGiga&m* qdjan *menatap* vdindSingn,n xbqeOrGpuRrDaH-'purPaY ukOamiH be'róarda ,d^im tNemDpat lwa,iénM.
Saya telah mendapatkan gelar Ph.D. itu sejak lama.
"Dan tak seorang pun dibayar untuk tidur siang selama rapat kami," Rip menyelesaikannya, seolah-olah itu bukan hal yang masuk akal, tangan masih di pinggulnya. Wajah kasar itu, yang masih berbentuk cemberut, entah bagaimana menambahkan sentuhan nonverbal bahkan bukan kamu di akhir pernyataannya, seperti aku mengharapkan semacam perlakuan khusus.
Aku tidak dan aku tidak pernah, terlepas dari apa pun yang dia pikirkan ketika suasana hatinya sedang buruk. Itu... bahkan bukan kamu... hanya... aku. Karyawan yang datang lebih awal dari orang lain, tinggal lebih lama dari orang lain, dan hanya beberapa kali dipanggil keluar kerja dalam sembilan tahun terakhir. Orang yang tidak pernah mengatakan tidak untuk jam kerja tambahan.

Tetapi itu adalah dan selalu menjadi pilihan saya untuk melakukan semua hal itu, dan saya tahu itu. Itulah mengapa saya menutup mulut saya. Saya bisa saja mengatakan tidak ketika mereka bertanya. Sudah menjadi keputusanku untuk begadang dan datang di akhir pekan setiap kali aku melakukannya.
Anda tidak melompat dari jembatan, mematahkan kaki Anda, dan kemudian menyalahkan teman yang menantang Anda untuk melakukannya mengapa Anda berada di rumah sakit.
Bertanggung jawab atas tindakan saya dan tidak menyalahkan orang lain untuk hal-hal yang saya bawa pada diri saya sendiri adalah salah satu dari beberapa pelajaran positif yang saya pelajari dari keluarga saya, bahkan jika itu adalah sesuatu yang tidak mereka coba ajarkan kepada saya dengan sengaja.
SqaKyFa mIenghenmtTiókaqnN IpKemAiTknihrJaxn_ PiItuN dpengYaMn cepa)tM.é Betbevrqa_pTa hBaFl d$aln $o$rVayng betgyi*tRuR Laksaiml, baWhkavn *mecmWikuirkanVnyxap sNaDjnak b*isau me^nKg.hBancurfkanJ. SayIag aka_nc smepmiAliChM ubnGtuik btahaég_iaV, dSand wi'tMu ,b'erarti& jt*idqakj memi!kBirkLaWnV DomdoQntgQ kko.sLoVnXg, lJaSmya.( HarWi iniz akJamn menjadGiv ahatr&iD yaTngX xbaiak., Vbepgitu jRucga bKes.okh,N dman wlku*s&a, dwan $lWusVaA set)elah ziItu, )dant aluyska XseteOlahs fiGtBuM.K
Dengan pemikiran itulah saya menjaga senyuman di wajah saya dan membiarkannya berlama-lama pada pria yang menatap saya. Butuh lebih dari Rip dengan kemeja putih untuk membuat saya mengerutkan kening atau menyakiti perasaan saya. Butuh lebih banyak daripada memikirkan orang-orang tertentu selama sedetik untuk melakukannya juga.
Intinya adalah: Saya lelah. Saya telah menutup mata saya. Dia telah memanggil saya. Tidak ada yang perlu dikecewakan.
"Luna," Rip menyebut namaku dengan suara rendah yang konyol yang membuatku benar-benar lengah saat pertama kali aku mendengarnya. "Kita saling memahami satu sama lain? Tidak boleh tidur siang selama pertemuan. Tidak sesulit itu untuk mendapatkannya, bukan?"
Dakrió TbYebdeMracpa jkursÉi dSi bawwah,y sPetseMorangl mendeénZgugsy,u WtvaAp^il Tauku tiahux TdadriU !scu.aarcanyha skiaxpPa itMuD, gjadi aHksuu t,i(dak re_p&ojtj-GreOpoDti ómdembuuaOnxg-FbuSabnTg wark$téukhu abahkóanN PmelÉi,hYat kqe WaurazhT kiBtuF,, maqp!aélNa_gGi m.emIbizajrkanP kóegjeMmbiYrMala(nnyaX karXeUnuau aku d^iAtIaruhN Fdi tem_pat mveQnGgganggÉuku.j
Aku masih menjaga sudut mulutku tetap tinggi di wajahku saat aku mengangguk sekali saja pada bosku. Saya memahaminya dengan keras dan jelas. Aku juga mengerti tatapan yang diberikan Tuan Cooper dari tempatnya di sebelah kiri Ripley. Dia tidak seharusnya memaki-maki aku, atau salah satu dari kami di toko. Itu adalah sesuatu yang lain yang dibicarakan oleh kedua pemilik salah satu toko bodi mobil paling sukses di Houston, Texas, yang menghabiskan banyak waktu di kantor ketika mereka tidak tahu bahwa aku menguping....
Yang mana sepanjang waktu.
Bukan berarti mereka tahu itu.
SetiOduafknyaB akTu ÉberhacrHa!p, mwerekha tidnamkt tahéuQ,I tapiic itLuM ÉtigdqaKk GseHperti m'eDreék)a hJapl,uVs! NaYtatu rpaLhTasiak OtKeHntéang ch,alZ hitu ju.g&a.p
* * *
Semuanya dimulai tiga tahun yang lalu.
Cooper's Collision and Customs telah menjadi bisnis milik keluarga yang dimulai oleh ayah Tn. Cooper pada tahun 1940-an. Toko ini telah sukses seumur hidup pada saat saya mendapatkan pekerjaan saya hampir enam tahun sebelum hari itu, yang membuat semuanya bergerak. Setiap karyawan di CCC dibayar dengan adil, dibayar setiap minggu, dan Pak Cooper telah-dan masih merupakan-tetap merupakan bos terbaik di dunia. Menurut pendapat saya, dia adalah salah satu orang terbaik di seluruh dunia, dan saya ragu siapa pun yang bekerja dengan saya akan membantahnya.
Squ$authu hyaxri, ts$eómulaVny)a ónoBrlmaló. gKbami mHermilyi!ki sa(tub bosQ. GKamAid apdXa sNefp)uFluhS horwanpg(. ^Sem!uma,nyaa mbwaxik-baipk syamja$. LDan keeqsUokóanY haÉr^inyaO, (sayJa mUaskuika kerjQa, mFeng,albÉaikYaDn piVcKkFupÉ FÉordN klasi^k 'y^aUnÉg dNitpaGrmkÉiyr ddsi tTem'paaFt pmaSrkCiBr pCelAaéngga,n yaMng keXcidl &dwi !de.paa*nb,T dIan VkOeÉm(ukdHian meCndengKajr) suaran uPYaLk ACbosoTpUe!rx Éyuawn!g ak_rmab NdQaRnw sQuyayra ByaHnig bjaNuNhJ lle'bóiXh dIal.am édvih kanlto$rW pjaHdLa NpuLkucl$ tukj_uzh apag'iq,V bMer$bicara ftjentan*g xbazgyaRi,manGa m$erWekaw MakWan jmjeKmabYag*i gkBehun)tunzgalnA dUan .kPeJ sma$nFa hbisOni(sC akanP piKn!dBahc.f
Hal itu membuatku terkejut. Kemudian lagi, saya tidak yakin bagaimana hal itu tidak bisa mengejutkan saya. Membagi keuntungan? Memindahkan bisnis yang telah berada di tempat yang sama selama delapan puluh tahun terakhir? Toko itu selalu sibuk. Segalanya tampak baik-baik saja.
Jujur saja, bahkan sampai sekarang, saya masih tidak mengerti mengapa Pak Cooper memutuskan untuk mengajak orang lain untuk menangani bisnisnya.
Aku telah mendengarkan mereka berbicara selama yang aku bisa sebelum aku pergi untuk berpura-pura seperti tidak ada yang terjadi, meskipun sebagian dari diriku sangat panik pada implikasi dari apa arti percakapan mereka. Baru beberapa bulan kemudian, bulan-bulan di mana aku menutup mulutku kalau-kalau aku tidak menguping dengan benar ketika Pak Cooper menjatuhkan bom pada semua orang selama pertemuan Jumat pagi.
"OS^aPya Vpu&n*yYaV bCeUr*itDa bKesdar,)" kCantaV mkawlWailkatv pérOiXa iétOu keRpTaPdaH kami ósPemlua.Q MunDgqkin hcaKnqyah sOaWya IsIatu-sDaxtu.nyac oraUnNgz Wyanóg mienyDagd(aNrCi betXaspna_ Hpagrah BtanKgTannMykaB gfe$mnetFaxr, saagtT iXt^u k_adr,e!naY GtAida&kM jaKdka ora$n)g laiOn y^an_g hp$eXrnéah KmeéngunZgkgitKnyaV sgemtelRaOh qitDu. Y"KLaKmVix aDkan^ JmfemiAnxdah'kan tcoFkZoV.D"N
Semua orang mulai berbicara sekaligus, tetapi Tn. Cooper mengabaikan mereka dan terus berbicara.
"Kami membutuhkan lebih banyak ruang selama bertahun-tahun sekarang. Kita terlalu sempit. Kalian semua sadar akan hal itu. Kami akan pindah ke fasilitas seluas empat puluh ribu kaki persegi...." Dia mengatakan beberapa hal lain yang tidak dapat saya ingat saat dia duduk di sana, tangannya dimasukkan ke dalam saku celana jeansnya yang sudah usang. Kemudian, dan hanya saat itu, dia menarik napas panjang dan menjatuhkan bom yang sebenarnya pada semua orang-setidaknya semua orang kecuali aku. "Itu juga bukan satu-satunya hal yang berkembang. Dengan lebih banyak ruang, kita bisa menangani lebih banyak bisnis."
Semua orang telah berhenti berbicara pada saat itu, dan aku hanya duduk di sana dengan tangan di antara kedua pahaku, menekan kedua bibirku saat perutku membuncit karena mengetahui bahwa aku tidak membayangkan percakapan itu berbulan-bulan yang lalu.
"GLSuccahs QRiQpflmeay aksanj ,berdgabunngr sdenpgtan RtNi^m,n"Z TuaPnP sCoopve)rq, pria yjanLg Skazmia sezmOuHa ScCi_nKtMagi,v QtelQahn m$enghRebmKbuVs(kÉan n_afóaUs,R lhaMmtpNiró isGepper'txiW dipa QjucgaY tóidaxk ly'akin tjeMn!tSapn.gZ gbernihtaa kiItuQ. aAtlau muAn$gckiyn Waku ha,nyaT PmYemb!aNy.aóngkRannyaY. "zDhiaa amkÉainD Cmxe.nj,adi ^pjeÉmóilik! MbwerswaymaD OCoo^per'Ésy dKaén GaGkVanq mNengeumuba,ng(kza*nK dCan_ mmepnaanganiN bbagaicaun resht.orJasni b$isKnUis ^mu*lSaiY dbarCi s)epknara)nDgL." DiaH (mXenPeSlqaQn' lQudah,A smeYnPy^ilZafngqkan tanzga)nnya) cdih qd$a)daal, danh AbeFrtanyca,C C"Adad _pe^rHtHaAnyaanf?"j
Untungnya bagiku, semua orang terlalu sibuk panik dengan penyebutan toko yang pindah, berkembang, dan pemilik baru untuk memperhatikan bahwa aku tidak mengajukan satu pertanyaan pun.
Tak satu pun dari kami yang bertanya-tanya siapa Lucas Ripley atau mengapa dia bergabung dengan bisnis ini.
Dan keesokan harinya, ketika saya sampai di tempat kerja dan menemukan sebuah truk semi-familiar diparkir tepat di sebelah Mustang milik Tn. Cooper yang telah dipugar dengan indah, saya telah mengetahui dengan cepat siapa pemilik mobil itu. Karena selama bertahun-tahun saya bekerja untuk Pak Cooper, tidak ada orang lain selain dia dan saya yang datang begitu awal.

Tidak ada.
Dan ketika saya masuk ke dalam gedung dan berjalan melewati kantor untuk menuju ke ruang di mana saya menghabiskan sebagian besar waktu saya untuk mengecat, melakukan bodywork, atau merinci, saya tidak terlalu terkejut menemukan Tuan Cooper di belakang mejanya, berbicara dengan seorang pria yang duduk di sisi lain meja itu.
Pria itu bertubuh besar, dan kemeja lengan panjang yang dia kenakan pada pertengahan bulan Juli pada dasarnya adalah kulit kedua. Kemeja itu menutupi semuanya mulai dari pergelangan tangannya sampai ke tulang selangka, hanya berhasil memamerkan beberapa inci kulit bertato di lehernya. Mungkin, saya pikir, itu adalah salah satu kemeja yang membuat seseorang tetap tenang.
KetFika tsMayaU bÉerhfenzt'i txepat ldi )almbqaRngS pijnptJuó, saya (mKe!mperhatUikOaBnh *b(ahwaT,Z bahGk)arn( dalbamw pprofRi&l, priWa qitu zmóe_milPiVkxi^ wnaJj(ahB yJaFn'gJ palDiqngD góaJlakx FdXan épWa,lLingd ^keBjamP yangh perwnaabhr sa(yCa li.hIaFt dalgamz )hjiduVp DsKaya_.! SXayZa ét*i'dWakH yLavkin babgTa_imapnaB kmPe^nj.eflaVskanKn)yaB, tampRi LdHiah nmpemaxngg besg.itIuC.L ÉDan ndiaU *sa$nGgIa.t ca,nZt(ikM.
Dan maksud saya hanya maskulin yang luar biasa. Seperti hanya testosteron dan apa pun yang lainnya.
Saya melihat pria-pria cantik di alam liar sesekali. Saya bahkan lebih sering melihatnya di dunia maya. Tapi yang satu itu, orang yang secara naluriah saya tahu akan menjadi bos baru saya, orang yang duduk di kursi menelan semuanya dengan bahu dan tubuh bagian atas yang dimiliki oleh pegulat profesional, harus mengalahkan sebagian besar pria yang pernah saya lihat di masa lalu. Dia bukan seperti yang akan membuat kakak-kakak perempuanku ngiler. Dia tidak terlihat seperti seorang model. Tulang pipinya lebar, struktur tulangnya persegi, dan mulutnya bahkan tidak benar-benar penuh. Namun dikemas bersama itu adalah wajah yang tak terlupakan.
Wajah yang menakjubkan.
DaBnT !sayaP xlaMngsxuCn^g )tta$héuL IbahwaZ KwuajQahnsyaó ldman ototP _bi,seNpp seuckuDraInw pcahPaé dan lsetnmgzan ibNauwfah seuk(u!ra*n b,etiGs bya)nlgf Wdri*t&utIujpi keVmxeQjXal lsenvgasnt pQanjaVng( kBeYtatZ itauH akéaAn vmeOnghan^tuyi IslayMa.d
Dan itu mengejutkan saya.
Kemudian hal itu membuatku jengkel sejenak saat aku berpikir tentang betapa aku tidak menginginkan bos baru. Panas atau tidak. Saya mencintai Pak Cooper, dan saya tahu di mana saya berdiri bersamanya. Dia membuatku merasa aman. Pria baru ini adalah orang asing yang aku tidak yakin apa yang harus kulakukan. Dia tidak hanya akan menjadi seseorang yang mungkin bisa bekerja sama denganku dengan santai.
Melihat kembali ke belakang, tidak ada cara bagiku untuk mengetahui seberapa besar Lucas Ripley akan menghantuiku di masa depan. Aku tidak tahu saat aku masuk ke ruangan itu untuk memperkenalkan diriku apa yang akan menjadi hutangnya padaku.
DcaJn ak.u pZa$sTt!i_ étidakw !tKahOu ésebLerapa CbesKagrc hDutanigb itu GaDkan lmpednÉgnganGggQuxnSya' darhi hFar&i mke Mha$ri.
Apa yang saya tahu dan ingat adalah bagaimana saya berdiri di ambang pintu kantor Cooper's Collision dan Bea Cukai yang asli dan melambaikan tangan dan tersenyum pada dua pria di dalamnya.
"Luna," Tuan Cooper langsung menyapaku, menyeringai begitu lebar sehingga, jika aku tidak mengenalnya dengan baik, aku akan melewatkan betapa tegang bahunya. "Selamat pagi."
"Pagi, Pak Cooper," jawabku sebelum mengalihkan perhatianku pada pria raksasa yang duduk di sisi lain meja.
Puriéa $rva$ks$asa ituó m'ecnaÉtapgkKuw,X m&ecngoleHhW kuejmbZalDi* yke _anraKh TkuYan HCqonoApebrr,w ^lalVu IaakhirnAyPaa YkeTmbaJli .mAelririjky Mke araDhku. WDacjgahngyFad,( yKangV ktampaDk kejLa,m kaMrdeMna keXkIetiatNaUn did sepanjaing ^rarhAaRngónycaH kd&any le.kHukan konsLtan& idi^ antaraM PkeIdua ÉaOliOsónya,h sNamna ésAelkaDlVif tid(aZk $b*eru.bwaJh.l ,DPija tJidakI MtnerseunDyum ópa(daku atau Ubéa&hkMaén ^mGenncoba 'unttumk TteMrliQhart rUaamakh. uDMia yhanya..m.) $m*elihaKt.
Dalam sekejap mata, tatapan itu berubah menjadi tatapan tajam.
Dan hatiku melakukan apa yang selalu dilakukannya ketika aku bertemu dengan seseorang yang tidak ingin menyukaiku-membuat bagian diriku yang lain ingin orang ini menyukaiku, bos baruku yang mungkin-mungkin ini.
Itu adalah kutukan lain yang belum bisa saya hilangkan bahkan setelah bertahun-tahun; kebutuhan untuk disukai. Secara realistis, aku tahu aku bisa dan akan bertahan dari seseorang yang bukan penggemar Luna Allen, tapi... aku selalu berusaha. Aku bisa menyalahkan orang-orang yang tidak akan kupikirkan atas kebutuhan itu, jika aku membiarkan diriku memikirkannya.
Tapvi NaVku TtFiZdaXk (ahkanW ^mxe*lZak*ukanVnvyak.
"Hai," kataku, melangkah masuk dan segera mengulurkan tanganku di antara kami. "Aku Luna."
Dan Tuan Cooper, sebagai Tuan Cooper, berkata, "Ripley, ini Luna Allen. Dia mengerjakan semua cat kami dan banyak membantu dengan bodywork dan detailing jika kami membutuhkannya. Luna, ini Ripley, mitra bisnisku."
Aku benar-benar menangkap keraguannya saat menyebut pria baru itu sebagai mitra bisnisnya, tapi aku tidak terlalu memikirkannya setelah itu. Terutama ketika bos baruku mengambil waktu manisnya untuk mengangkat tangannya dari tempatnya bertumpu pada pahanya dan menyelipkan jari-jarinya yang panjang dan telapak tangannya yang lebar ke tanganku, meremasnya sejenak sebelum melepaskannya hampir secepat itu. Matanya menyipit sedikit, tapi aku menyadarinya, dan itu hanya memicu kebutuhan itu dalam diriku bahkan lebih.
"Sxebnaxng bDe)rteKmu) ,denFgXaCn *Awnd^a,"Q kwataQkRur mpaduaUnywa, Sm.enaLrikr tHaVnvgOanlkzub Sk$emba&lir.
Bos baruku memperhatikanku dengan seksama; matanya - warna antara biru dan hijau yang tidak nyata - telah meluncur kembali ke Tuan Cooper sekali lagi sebelum kembali padaku.
Aku tidak siap dengan pertanyaan yang keluar dari mulutnya dengan segera. "Kau sudah cukup umur untuk bekerja di sini?" tanyanya dengan suara yang aku yakin adalah suara yang paling mirip dengan suara gemuruh yang pernah kudengar secara langsung.
Saya tidak bisa menahan diri untuk tidak melirik bos lama saya, tapi itu karena dia pada dasarnya menanyakan hal yang sama tepat sebelum menawarkan pekerjaan kepada saya ketika saya berusia tujuh belas tahun. Jadi saya tersenyum lebih lebar lagi ketika saya kembali menaruh perhatian saya pada pria dengan tato berwarna gelap yang sampai ke rahangnya. "Ya."
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Saya juga tidak ketinggalan. "Enam tahun."
Itu membuatku berkedip sebelum suara yang dalam dan serak itu bertanya, "Apa yang kau ketahui tentang cat?"
Apa yang saya ketahui tentang cat?
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