Excerpt: Buried Treasure
Send help.
Sydney stopped brushing her teeth to stare at the text on her phone, waiting for the rest of the message she knew was coming. Waiting… waiting…
And bring donuts.
She smiled and rinsed her mouth out. There were some disadvantages to living next door to Detroit's rookie hockey sensation — the late parties and loud music were a start. But Sydney enjoyed her role as Ryan McCloud's pseudo big sister, probably more than she should considering what she was about to do for him.
She walked over to her closet to pick out shoes, settling on a pair of flashy red high heels to go with her navy blue business suit. Then she headed for the kitchen to make sure her leather briefcase was packed up with everything she needed for the morning. She grabbed two bagels from the counter, slathered both with cream cheese, and wrapped them in paper towels before heading out of her condo.
The key for Ryan's door was easy to find on her key chain since he had wrapped the top in hockey tape before giving it to her. She still remembered the look on his face when he handed it over, a mix of apprehension that she would have access to his condo and relief that he wouldn't be locked out again after returning from a long road trip. She didn't mind him sleeping on her sofa, but he was sick of it after the third lockout.
Sydney put on a happy smile and slid the key in the lock, making sure to be as loud as possible to mark her entrance.
"Hey, babe! I know you like donuts, but all I had to surprise you with was a ba—" She stopped, staring at the blond woman in a t-shirt and panties sitting on Ryan's black leather sofa. "Who's that?"
He stood up quickly from his spot next to the unnamed blonde. "Um, this is…" He looked back at the woman, and Sydney was sure he was trying to stall because he couldn't remember her name. Then his eyes snapped back to her and he walked towards her with long strides, a secret smirk teasing the corners of his lips. "Listen, I can explain," he stammered. "This isn't what you think it is. Really, honey. I swear."
Sydney threw the bagels on the kitchen counter and put her hands on her hips.
"You swear? Really?" she answered sarcastically before turning to the woman. "And who are you? I mean, I don't care except for the fact that I'd like to know the name of the woman screwing my boyfriend!"
The woman stood up quickly and tugged her shirt down to try and cover up her pink lace underwear. "I should go."
"Yeah, get your pants and go!" Sydney replied bitterly as she watched the woman scamper into the rookie's bedroom. "You better start explaining."
Ryan smiled at her. "Well, I was at this bar last night."
"Yeah."
"And I had a few drinks. Maybe a few too many."
"Maybe."
"And well, I don't know what happened after that."
Sydney shifted onto her left foot and stared at him as the unnamed blonde came stomping ungracefully out of his bedroom in high heels that were too tall for her to properly walk. "So you got drunk and slept with another woman?"
"It didn't mean anything, I swear!" Ryan yelled, shooting a glance at the woman as she quickly grabbed her purse by the door and walked out. "It's just—" The door slammed shut and Ryan let out a breath, his shoulders slumping a bit. "No donut?" he asked casually, reaching for the extra bagel on the counter.
"I have no idea why you even ask for donuts when you know I don't buy crap like that."
"I know, but a man can hope, right?" he asked before biting off a mouthful of bagel.
She smiled at him. "So let me guess: you forgot that girl's name."
"It wasn't obvious, was it?"
"It wasn't the first time you've done that, although maybe it would be better if you stopped bringing random women home from bars."
"Yes, mom."
Sydney gave him a friendly but stern look. "I'm serious. You play for the Detroit Pirates. Kids look up to you and your team depends on you. Try to cut back on the drinking and the sexing or whatever." She gave him a light squeeze around his shoulders and heard a sharp intake of breath in response. "You OK?"
"Yeah," he said despite the fact that he was clearly in a bit of pain. "I think I just pulled an abdominal muscle in a game the other day. I'm going to have our trainer check it out at practice today."
"Sleeping with a woman probably didn't help."
"It didn't hurt last night when I brought her home."
Sydney gave him a worried look as he took another bite of his bagel and flinched. "You sure you're OK?"
Ryan nodded. "I'm sure," he said, the quiet tone in his voice making her think otherwise. But then he looked up at her with his usual big smile. "Whoever that girl was is probably gone by now. Get to work or something."
"I'm going." She grabbed her briefcase from off of the floor and her bagel from the counter. "You got practice today?" Ryan simply nodded as he continued to chew his bagel. "Let me know if you want to catch up on our Netflix queue tonight."
"Can we watch more X-Files?"
"Of course," she replied.
If Sydney was going to spend her down time with him, she figured it was best to be a good influence by turning him on to her favorite shows.
"The truth is out there, Barton!"
"Eat your bagel, McCloud," she replied as the door closed behind her.
With her little performance out of the way, Sydney walked past her front door and headed for the elevators to start her walk to work.
She smiled as she made her way through the building's renovated lobby. She loved this place. First, it was close to work so lots of easy exercise considering she rarely had time to go to the gym in the building. Second, socialite and bestselling author Charlotte Stone had taken over the penthouse. The whole building was sure to go up in value because of that, making it the perfect real estate investment in downtown Detroit.
And if there was one thing that made Sydney Barton great, it was investing.
The lobby of her office building was warm and inviting after her two-block walk in the cold, but something seemed off this morning. The security guards that usually welcomed her with smiles every day couldn't even look her in the eye. One of them had to override her security card that didn't seem to be working, mumbling something about computer glitches as he pressed the button for her floor and then quickly jumped out of the elevator.
And then there were the men in blue windbreakers with bright yellow letters that she passed in the hallway. She kept her head down — no need to get the attention of serious people who looked like they were doing some sort of government work on her floor. They must have finally busted the insurance guy down the hall who would occasionally smell like marijuana when she got stuck with him in the elevator.
She walked in the front door of her office and froze. The government windbreakers were for her. The letters she had ignored in the hallway stood out bright against the dark background: S.E.C. The Securities and Exchange Commission. The officials who arrest you for breaking trading laws were standing in her office.
"Ma'am, can I help you?"
She looked up to see a tall man staring down at her. "Who are you?"
"Securities and Exchange Commission," he said, flashing her an official looking badge without actually giving his name. "And you are?"
"Sydney Barton. I work here," she said, trying to keep her voice level and strong. "What are you doing here?"
"Don't say another word, Sydney!" came a voice from behind her as her best friend pushed her way into the office. "Lily Evans. I'm Sydney Barton's attorney, and she's not answering any questions."
She handed a business card to Mr. No Name, who looked her up and down and started whispering to the woman standing next to him.
"Ms. Barton," he said, turning back to a stunned Sydney. "Do not leave this spot. Don't go into your office. Don't leave the building. Don't do anything unless we tell you. Do you understand?"
She turned to Lily, who gave her a subtle nod. "I understand," Sydney replied quietly.
As the S.E.C. people walked away from them, the two women sat down quietly, Sydney's mind reeling wondering what was going on just beyond the reception area.
This job had been a dream come true for her. She worked summer after summer interning at John Martin's personal investment company before finally getting a spot in the firm when she graduated from college. She had quickly become a success after John decided to take her under his wing as her mentor. In fact, she was now his second in the office, overseeing some of the portfolios of more than 50 of his personal finance clients, and she wasn't even 30 years old.
But now there were people from the S.E.C. going through things in the receptionist's file drawers. There was boxes stacked against a wall ready to be filled with something, but what exactly she didn't know. Her mind her reeling, trying to take in all the weirdness going on around her. Sydney prided herself on being able to quickly analyze facts when it came to stocks and bonds and mutual funds. But this? This wasn't making any sense.
"Lily?" she asked, turning to look at her friend, who seemed more somber than she had ever seen her.
"Do not talk to anyone without me from now on," she said seriously before leaning in closer. "You're lucky your office is two floors down from your company's lawyer. My boss is already back there with John. Sorry I was running a bit late."
"Running a bit late for what? Seriously, what the hell is going on?"
Lily looked up and Sydney followed her eyes just in time to see John being led away in handcuffs by some of the S.E.C. people with Lily's boss, who also happened to be John's company attorney, following right behind.
Sydney could feel her hands begin to shake, and she forcefully restrained them against her lap with little effect. "Lily?" she whispered. "What happened?"
"Wait until we can talk in private," Lily said, putting a reassuring hand on Sydney's knee.
"Can't you just tell me what's going on," she pleaded. "Just something."
Lily looked over Sydney's shoulder to make sure there was no one prying. "Your boss did some very bad things, Sydney, and he's taking you down with him."
It was sometime after the sun went down before Sydney finally came home. She had been avoiding her place for most of the day, spending time at her depressing office as more and more boxes followed her criminal boss out the door, although she wasn't sure he was still her actual boss considering the circumstances. She had finally had enough after a two-hour stint behind her desk asking strangers what she could take home with her and what she couldn't. For some reason, the S.E.C. felt the need to keep her financial reference books that she had with her since college. They also held on to her favorite pens that she always requested when someone made a run to the office supply store. But they did at least give her permission to take home the personal items on her desk: a framed picture of her and Lily, a hand-carved business card holder, an X-Files mug that said "Trust No One." She found that one particularly poignant given the current situation.
But after awhile, she couldn't handle it anymore and told Lily it was time for her to go. Her lawyer, Lily Evans, gave instructions to the S.E.C. guys about what to do with the rest of the things in her desk and when she expected a detailed description of all the items. Her friend, Lily Evans, took her to the local bar conveniently located between her office and her apartment and ordered her some stiff drinks. At least Lily ordered them some greasy food and a piece of chocolate cake the size of her head to soak up the liquor in her stomach.
By the time Lily gently suggested she should go home, Sydney was drained of any energy she had left in her. She insisted on going up the elevator to her apartment on her own, not wanting to admit to her friend that she planned to take a long bath that would include lots of sobbing. Hanging out with Ryan was definitely out for the night.
The elevator door opened and Sydney sighed loudly as she took the first few steps into the lobby on her floor. Her feet were killing her, which was something she hadn't noticed until now with her mind wandering to other issues. She put her box of office stuff on a small table in the corner of the hallway, slipped her red high heels off, and tossed them in. It was pretty easy considering how empty the box was.
She trudged down the hall towards her condo, completely oblivious of anything or anyone around her until she almost bumped in to a man standing in the hallway. A man standing in front of her door. A man who looked familiar to her for some reason and if she just kept staring, her groggy mind might be able to place him. Most days, she would remember who he was. Today wasn't most days.
"What?" she said to the man, realizing her tone was a little harsher than she had meant for it to be. Whatever.
"Um, do you live here?"
The man shifted uncomfortably on his feet, revealing the Detroit Pirates logo on his track suit jacket.
"Oh, you're looking for Ryan, aren't you? He's next door."
She didn't wait for the stranger's reaction, balancing the box in one hand while trying to dig her keys out of her bag with the other. She still felt a bit drunk, which wasn't helping her.
"Here, let me get that for you," the man said, taking the box from her arms.
Normally, she would've smiled or said a polite thank you, but she wasn't in the mood for niceties today. Instead, she finally found her keys, shoved them in the lock, and wordlessly turned around to get her box back.
"Oh, I can bring this in for you if you want."
"I don't want. It's been a bad day," she replied, taking the box from him. "In fact, if you're going to see Ryan, tell him I'm not coming over tonight."
"What?"
She sighed and put the box down on the floor by her feet. "My name is Sydney, I live next door to Ryan McCloud, who is in that apartment," she said, gesturing towards his door with agitated hands. "You're going to see him because you know him from the Pirates somehow, but it's been a bad day so I can't remember how. I was going to hang out with him, but again, bad day. And since I don't want to talk to people, I would appreciate it if you told him I'm not coming over."
"Sure, but, um…"
Sydney stared indignantly at the man, expecting him to say something completely annoying any minute now.
"I'm actually here to see you."
She wasn't expecting that. "You're here to see me?"
"Yeah, I'm Andy Mitchell. I'm the trainer for the Detroit Pirates."
She remembered now. She met him once at a bar when she went out with Ryan and went home by herself. Again.
"So why exactly are you here to see me?" she asked sarcastically.
He looked at her apprehensively, as if he was surprised by her question. "Have you not heard about Ryan?"
"Bad day."
"Right," he said, taking a quick glance at the box on the floor before looking back up at her. "So Ryan is in the hospital."
She was not expecting that either. Her head suddenly became clearer, every nerve in her body going into high alert for the second time today as she tried to process the latest melodrama. "What? But I just—"
"He's OK," Andy tried to say reassuringly. "It's his appendix, that's all. It's just… gone."
"Where did it go?" she asked seriously before she realized how stupid her question was.
Andy seemed to take it in stride, his demeanor softening a bit. "There was an incident at practice this morning, and we had to rush him to the emergency room so the doctors could remove it. But he's going to be fine. I promise."
She sighed and leaned against the door jam to try and get her bearings before straightening up again. "You shouldn't be telling me this!" she yelled, pointing at him. "This is a violation of doctor-patient something or laws or whatever."
"Again, it's OK," he replied. "The team put out an announcement about it. Everyone knows. You just have to watch the news tonight and you'll see it there."
The news? That was definitely not something Sydney wanted to do tonight. There were cameras and media people set up outside her office building when she left that afternoon. She didn't need to relive all of that by seeing it on the news. Sydney leaned on the door again, her brain officially filled with too many thoughts to make sense out of any of them.
"Um, Ryan said you would have a key for his place. At least I think that's what he said. He's on some weird drugs right now." Andy shrugged. "I just wanted to get a few things for him for the hospital."
She gave him a skeptical look. "And how do I know you're not scamming me?"
He gave her a small smile. "He blamed the bagel you gave him this morning for his current digestive issues."
"When did he say that?"
"In the car ride over to the hospital. He said, 'I bet it was that fucking bagel Sydney gave me.' And then he complained about your constant lack of donuts, which, as his team's trainer, I actually appreciate."
He gave her a small smile and she would've appreciated the compliment if today was any day other than today. Instead, all she could do was shake her head. That bastard next door was never going to let her live this down. She pushed herself off the door jam and grabbed the key chain she had unceremoniously thrown on her end table, resigned to the fact that her bath would be delayed.
"Let's go."
Buried Treasure was voted second runner up, series contemporary, in the Washington Romance Writers' Marlene Contest (2016)
Due in 2018