Chapter Eight
Jamie
I found a parking space as far away from the restaurant as possible. My stomach had been flipping since the moment I decided I was going to pretend like I was some sort of expert private eye and follow Grant.
Last time I had tried to spy on him, it had gone horribly wrong, sending a crash of glasses and plates to the floor as well as myself and the busboy. I didn’t need a repeat of last time. I grabbed a baseball cap from the backseat of my Jeep and pulled it down over my head, threading my ponytail through the back loop. I adjusted it in the mirror as I put on my sunglasses.
Some disguise.
I walked quickly through the parking lot, looking down at the ground. I hoped that if I didn’t see anyone, they wouldn’t see me. I wanted to be invisible. I’d never been to March Lane before, but I’d driven by it a bunch of times. It had always seemed packed, probably because it was a sports bar, but in the middle of the day on a Monday, I figured it would be almost empty and I’d stand out.
Fortunately, I was wrong.
I walked inside and quickly surveyed the restaurant. Tables were spread throughout, but in a way where no one would notice people coming and going unless they were looking for them. In my brief two-second scan, I didn’t see Grant. I glanced over at the bar, which was separated from the rest of the dining room by a wall of glass and high-top tables.
There he was. Sitting alone, his back toward me. I quickly moved off to the side, toward the hallway that led to the bathroom. From here, I was still able to view the bar. I took a few steps backward, still keeping my eye on Grant, until I bumped into someone leaving the restroom.
“Excuse me,” the man said in low, throaty voice.
“Sorry,” I whispered back and turned the opposite way, looking at the floor and scampering toward the women’s room. My stomach sank as I saw the silhouette of the that had just run into me. It was a short, bald man. He walked into the bar and shook hands with Grant.
D. Franklin. My anonymous employer and blackmailer was working with Grant.
It took every ounce of control not to scream or confront them. The very man that had paid me to flirt with possibly Chase or Grant was actually meeting with Grant.
Maybe I had selected the wrong guy that day. Maybe Grant was one the one that hired me and the bald guy was working for him. Grant always did seem to turn up at the right time. It began to make a bit more sense. Grant had been looking through Chase’s folder that day at my apartment.
What was it he had seen? Why did they need me?
I needed to tell Chase about this. I needed to tell him I knew who was blackmailing me to spy on him. I took a few steps out of the hallway when both men stood up from the bar and faced in my direction, then abruptly made their way to a larger table and sat down.
They joked as they drank their beer and flipped through a folder on the table.
I wanted to hear what they were saying. I wanted to see what they were looking at, but I knew if I got close, they’d see me.
I had to risk it. I walked from the hallway and took the long way around a set of tables so I could ease into the bar and sit with my back toward them. I hoped neither one of them would need to come back to the bar.
With each step in their direction, my heart beat harder. I rounded the corner and stood next to a table with two businessmen in the middle of a meeting. Both looked up at me oddly.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered, trying to come up with an excuse why I was looking like a stalker. “That’s my boyfriend over there. I think he’s cheating on me.” Both men turned to look in the direction I was facing and immediately I realized how stupid my excuse was. Somewhat attractive Grant would be cheating on me with a man? Or worse, they thought D. Franklin, the short bald guy, was my boyfriend.
Before I could clarify, a woman walked through the front door and greeted them. She shook both of their hands and took a seat next to Grant.
“Thanks, I’ll just move over here,” I smiled through my whisper and left the two businessmen wondering what the hell was going on.
I made it toward the edge of the bar, almost close enough to hear them, when it happened.
My phone rang.
I quickly reached for it in my back pocket and instead of silencing it, like a smart person might do, I answered it.
“Hey sweetie, surprise!”
My mother never had great timing. This was by far the worst.
“Hey Mom,” I whispered, turning my back toward Grant’s table, hoping they hadn’t heard the phone or me. “I can’t really talk right now, I’m in class.”
“Okay, you can call me later. I just wanted to let you know we’re here.”
“Okay…” Then it hit me. “Wait, what? You’re here? Where?”
“In town. We got a room at the nice little hotel down the street from the university. I told you we were coming.”
“We? Tom is here? Why? Why are you both here?”
“Well, Tom ran out for a little, but yes, we’re both here.”
“Great,” I whispered. “I’ll give you a call later, I have to go.” I tapped the end button and made sure the phone was silenced as I slipped it back into my pocket. I slowly turned in the direction of where the three were sitting and watched as they sat and talked. I couldn’t take my eyes off of the girl. She was gorgeous, and she looked familiar.
She ran her fingers through her long blond hair as she tossed it back over her shoulder and then returned to flipping through the pages in her folder. She seemed to be more focused on talking to the older bald man than Grant.
As the bar area filled, it became more difficult to see or hear anything. I had made out some of the pleasantries, but beyond that, I was still in the dark. I pulled out my phone and snapped a picture, trying to be discreet.
I had my proof, and that was all I needed. Now it would be up to Chase to see if there was anything he could do.
I carefully made my way from the restaurant, being cautious not to run into any busboys carrying loaded trays of dishes or food. When I was finally back in my Jeep, I let out a long exhale. I felt accomplished.
More than anything, I wanted to text the photos I had taken to Chase, but this was a discussion we needed to have in person.
Putting the Jeep into gear, I started rolling out of the parking lot, pausing only for moment as a guy crossed in front of me without even looking. I shook my head, hoping he wouldn’t look back at me, he never did.
I was glad he didn’t pay me any mind, because when he turned to the side, I recognized him. Walking alone into the restaurant was none other than Tom, my so-called stepdad.