20
Emmy
Trystan," I greeted him as soon as it connected.
"Yeah."
There was a beat of silence and I rushed to fill it. "I wanted to thank you. I never got a chance to do that after you found David. So, thank you. Officially. Thank you."
"How is he?"
"Fine. Thanks to you. I—I don't know how to thank you," I rambled.
"It was nothing. He called me, it was easy at that point."
I let out a breath. "Thank you. I mean it."
"You've now thanked me four times. Stop it." But suddenly I heard him smiling through his words, and inside I relaxed.
"How was he?" he asked.
"He was fine. Better than fine. Apparently you bought him dinner, discussed business and told him there was a car and driver waiting on him?"
"All that was true." He laughed. "He's a smart man. I enjoyed chatting with him. Anyway, did you ever find out what happened?"
"Not really," I confessed. "I mean he had money for a cab, and honestly, I think he took it from my purse because I realized this afternoon I was missing sixty dollars in twenties. I just don't know when he might have done it. And I can't imagine him stealing from me."
"And his anklet? He didn't set off the alarm?"
"We don't know what happened there. He was wearing the anklet, and Penny Smith, the administrator, swears the alarm sensor is working. But maybe the power was out or something. It's a mystery."
"You could sue, you know?"
It wasn’t like in my worry-crazed hours earlier today those thoughts hadn't crossed my mind, but now . . . "You know, apart from this incident, they've been pretty great. And his one main caretaker, D'Andre, well he's pretty awesome. I fear he could lose his job if they had to scapegoat someone. I don't think it was negligence. I wouldn't be able to live with myself if they got the blame for something they couldn't control. Besides, I'm not sure it would be worth it anyway since he's okay. Accidents happen."
"Well, he's safe. That's what counts."
"Yes."
"Have you thought about moving him somewhere closer to you?"
I pursed my lips. "Yep. Of course. Unfortunately, it's a little complicated, but somehow I'll have to figure that out."
There was a long pause, and then I thought of him in my house while I sat on a dirty set of steps on a dirty sidewalk. "Are you at my house?" I asked.
"I'm actually in your bedroom," he answered, and my stomach experienced a weird dropping sensation.
"I'm sorry you have to get the bed ready." I talked over my reaction, trying to ignore it. "I should make it a rule to never go away without changing the sheets and tidying my stuff away first. Just in case."
"In case you have a stranger to stay," Trystan said. His voice had an odd timbre to it.
"You don't . . . you don't feel like a stranger anymore," I said honestly, and my stomach hollowed out as I made myself vulnerable. "You feel like a friend. After today, you feel like a friend."
"Yeah. A friend." Trystan cleared his throat. "So, now you have David back, do I need to sleep on the couch? Are you coming home?"
Be in the same house with him? My insides flipped over. I'd be far too nervous to even breathe with him in my space. Trystan Montgomery was . . . a presence.
"No," I answered him. "I cancelled my flight. I guess I'll stay. Besides I want to see David tomorrow and see if he has any recollection of what he did today. It was too hard to talk to him when we got him back this evening because he was tired. He gets more confused when he's tired."
"So, is he, like, your uncle? Grandfather? I've been trying to figure out the family relationship."
"It's a head-scratcher for sure." I smiled. "He's my adoptive uncle. Random, right? I was in foster care until I was legally adopted by my foster parents. Unfortunately, he's the only family I now have left. I guess that's why he's so important to me. I just . . . don't want to be without family again . . . alone again. What a selfish way to put it." I laughed deprecatingly at myself. "That's not the only reason, obviously. It's also because I adore him. He's a pretty cool guy. I miss the man he used to be."
There was a long silence.
"Trystan?" I asked. "You there?"
"I'm here," he said, his voice thick. "And to think I spent the last fourteen years avoiding the family I have."
My throat closed as I tried to swallow. I wanted to ask why. How could anyone not want a family? Or rather, what could a family have done to make someone not want to be with them? And I thought of the funeral and wondered if Trystan had regrets, causing something uncomfortable to twist in my chest. "I'm sorry, Trystan," I managed, finally. Because what else could I say?
"Don't be." I heard him take a breath and let it out long and slow. "Before I forget, your work number called several times. Did you tell them you're not coming back?"
"Ugh, I'll call Steven, my boss. He's just throwing his weight around. There's big pitch tomorrow I was supposed to be at."
"If you're as good as you say you are, he's probably panicked you won't be there to win the business for him."
"Ha. You're probably right. Well, maybe he'll learn to appreciate me more."
"So where are you going to stay tonight?" He changed the subject. "Can you go back to your rental?"
"I think I'll have to find a hotel. But on that note, you paid me way too freaking much to rent my place."
"I asked around what I'd be paying during Spoleto to rent a one bedroom apartment in downtown, and sorry Emmy, but that's the going rate. Apparently you should have been charging more."
"Trystan, something tells me you hear what you want to."
He laughed, a low rumble of thunder. "Yeah. That's probably true. I usually get what I want too."
"I don't doubt it."
"What I want right now is for you to call me back from a nice, safe, cushy hotel in a nice neighborhood so I can relax."
"You worried about me?"
"Emmy. You have no idea. And frankly given that I didn't even know you three days ago, I apparently have no idea either. It just is. So take my advice, okay?"
"I was going to stay near the airp—"
"No."
"Hey!"
"Bloody hell. Seriously, Emmy. Take my driver, he'll take you to a hotel I'm part-owner of in the city. You can get a room there, relax, order room service, and give us both a freaking break, yeah?"
I was stunned silent.
"And tomorrow," he went on, "after you're well-rested, he can take you back out to see David. Then you can decide if you're coming home or not."
"You're quite . . . overbearing, did you know that?"
"I'm going to pretend you just said, 'okay, Trystan.' My driver will be back there in ten minutes to pick you up."
"What? No. Don't be ridiculous."
"Emmy, I'm not bloody fucking around."
"I'm not either," I said sternly.
"If you don't take me up on my suggestion I'm going to sleep on your sheets and look through your bedside table drawers."
My breath left me in a sharp exhalation, my stomach bottoming out and my face growing hot and prickly.
"What will I find, Emmy?"
"Okay, I'll do it. I'll go," I squeaked.
"Interesting."
"No. Not interesting. Goodbye, Trystan." I pressed end. Oh my God, I thought I might throw up. He'd find my vibrator and I'd die.
Fully die.
At the very least, I'd never look at another human in the eye again.
Maybe not even my cat.
Never ever.
And after my reaction, there was no way he wouldn't go through my drawers now. I was such an idiot.
"Woohoo!" D'Andre came jogging up the sidewalk and fist pumped the air.
Thankful for the distraction, I stood and dusted my butt off, wobbling slightly with lightheadedness. "I take it that went well?" I greeted him, hoping he didn't notice my flushed state.
"You just paid it forward, girl!" D'Andre was practically giving off sparks of joy.
"I did?"
"You did."
The black, shiny, town car chose that moment to purr silently back up to the curb, reminding me I wasn't done paying anything forward just yet. "You need a ride into the city?" I asked D'Andre, pointing at the car and pursing my lips.
"For real?"
"For real," I confirmed and went back inside to get my suitcase. I just had to send a quick text.
Seriously. Don't you dare.
Suit Monkey: Challenge accepted.
I guess I'll head to the airport hotel then.
Suit Monkey: Fine. Your secrets are safe. For now.
"Ugh," I said out loud in exasperation and headed toward the black car.
The car ride into the city was full of chatter from an excited D'Andre. It was infectious, and it was a good thing because if he hadn't been there I would have been grilling the driver all about Trystan.
Apparently, Xanderr was able to come out and meet D'Andre at the club he was going to.
"Are you sure you can't come?" D'Andre asked, his palms together in entreaty.
I leveled a serious look at him. "I'm exhausted."
"Just for a couple drinks. You don't even have to go to the concert. Let me buy you a couple of drinks to say thank you."
I smiled. "Maybe. Let me get settled first, okay? Then you can text me and let me know where you are."
"Where are you staying anyway?" D'Andre asked me.
Bobby looked in the rearview mirror. "Mr. Montgomery asked me to take Miss Dubois to the Chelsea Grand."
"Oooo, Mr. Montgomery," D'Andre sang, echoing Bobby. "The Chelsea Grand. Hey, that's a pretty swank hotel."
"Stop it."
D'Andre's eyes narrowed. "Is he paying for you to stay there?"
"No!" God. No.
He nodded his chin once. "Good. 'Coz there only be one reason to do all this for a lady, and that's coz you buyin' something. Know what I mean?"
I narrowed my eyes right back at him. "Buying what, exactly?"
His hands came up. "I'm jus' sayin'. And before you get all offended, I ain't saying you sellin'."
"You better not be." I pointed my finger in his face.
As if summoned, my phone buzzed.
Suit Monkey: Who's your friend?
I sat upright and glanced around.
"What?" asked D'Andre.
Suit Monkey: Bobby told me we're giving someone a ride
Sinking back in relief I typed back. This is creepy behavior, Trystan. Don't make me regret going along with your suggestion.
"Nothing," I informed D'Andre.
"If I may?" Bobby piped up from the front seat. "Mr. Montgomery's a good man. He looks out for people."
"That's good to know," I answered, giving D'Andre the stink eye.
We pulled up outside a hotel with a carpeted sidewalk.
"There's a red carpet on the sidewalk," I said stupidly as a doorman opened my door, and Bobby jumped out of the driver's seat.
"That's so them rich people don't dirty up their kicks, yo."
"Welcome to the Chelsea Grand," the doorman said. "Checking in?"
"Um, yes."
Bobby joined us with my bag, and the doorman took it.
"Guest of Mr. Montgomery's," Bobby said to the doorman, whom he clearly knew.
"Thanks, Bobby." I put out my hand to shake his. "What do I owe you?"
"You're welcome, Miss Dubois." He tipped his hat. "I'm on call for Mr. Montgomery. You have my card, and my number is also in his phone. Just text or call, no matter the hour. Especially if you decide to go out for cocktails. Mr. Montgomery asked me to be sure you were safe."
"Thank you," I said, taking my wallet out. "But—"
"Like I said. I'm on call for Mr. M." He smiled, tipped his hat toward D'Andre too, and trotted back around to the driver's side of the car.
"Baby girl done got her a sugar daddy," D'Andre said with a chuckle.
"Shut it," I said with an eye roll. "All right. I'm going in. You say hi to Xanderr. Don't get him in trouble, he's underage."
"Yes, Mom."
I grinned.
D'Andre put out his fist. I tapped it with mine.
"Thank you, Emmy. I mean it."
"You take care of yourself D'Andre. Good luck tonight. Don't forget about us little people when you see your name up in lights."
"Never." He grinned then swung away, loping off down the sidewalk.
I took a deep breath and went inside the hotel and farther and farther into Trystan Montgomery's life.