Chapter Eleven

Perrie

 

My phone rang loudly, as seemed to be the norm lately. Thankfully, Lola was at school and not around to tell me how annoying it was.

I wasn’t even going to look at it. I knew for a fact it would be Adrian—nobody had called me since I was arrested. I guessed it had gotten around that I was working for the police now.

It sucked, but it also reminded me that the people I’d once considered friends were only friends of convenience.

Like that was a new thing in my life.

The ping of a new message immediately after the phone stopped ringing had my attention. That meant I had a voice message, and if it were Adrian calling, that wouldn’t happen. He’d just call again and again and again.

And again.

I got up and retrieved my phone from the computer desk. The missed call was from a number I didn’t know but had the Las Vegas area code, so I dialed the service to get my message.

“Hey, Perrie,” a familiar, lilting yet masculine tone carried down the line. “How are you, darling? It’s Fergus. I’m calling for a catch-up. Are you free right now? Let me know.”

My eyebrows shot right up. It’d been years since I’d spoken to the guy who was formerly the best male stripper in the Fox empire. Why was he suddenly calling me now, and how the hell had he gotten my number?

Those facts were enough to make me call him back.

“Perrie, darling!” Fergus trilled. “You got my message!”

“I just missed your call,” I lied. “It’s good to hear your voice, Ferg. How are you?”

“Fabulous as ever. Are you free now? Let’s get a drink. I have a break from work.”

“Uh…” I looked around the room as if something to do would jump out at me. “Sure? I guess. Where?”

“Stanley’s work for you?”

The cocktail bar was fifteen minutes from my house. “Sure. I’ll get changed and make my way over there.”

“Fabulous, honey! See you then!” He hung up on that note.

I stared at my phone for a moment. My life was getting weirder and weirder.

 

***

 

“It’s so good to see you!” Fergus wrapped his muscular arms around me and squeezed me tightly. “You look amazing, of course. That haircut is outstanding.”

“Good to see you, too, Ferg, but you’re laying it on a bit thick, don’tcha think?” I squeaked, wriggling to extract myself from his tight hold.

“Ugh. I know. I’m so obvious.” He sighed dramatically, flipping his hair back from his face. “Here’s the deal, darling. My boss is inside there and she wants to talk to talk to you. I’m afraid I got you here by quite nefarious means.”

“So, you lied?” I simplified it for him. “What does your boss want with me? Wait—who is your boss these days?”

He puffed out a breath. “I’m not getting dragged any further into this. I promise she won’t hurt you. Can you speak with her? For me?”

I blinked at him. We hadn’t spoken in years, but now he was calling in a favor? What the hell was up with that?

I wavered. I couldn’t even make sense of his phonecall, never mind why his boss wanted to speak with me. Who was his boss? Why did she want me?

Why the hell hadn’t I told him where to stick it and gone yet?

“I suppose I’m here now,” was what my mouth said. “Fine. But I’m not happy you lied to me.”

“Spoken like a true Fox.”

“Of which I am not,” I reminded him.

He shrugged and opened the door. The whole adopted thing had never bothered him, and he’d never bothered to make the distinction that I was only a Fox because my mom had married into them before I was even born.

“She’s at the back. Oh—you should know, she wants to discuss your brother, and I am wholly responsible for this.”

“Damien? What the—Fergus!”

“Whoopsie. Shouldn’t have said that. Onward!”

A nervous giggle escaped me. My stomach twisted, and I pressed my hand against my chest. My brother? What could possibly be the point of this conversation?

Fergus led me right to the back where the booths were, and then even further into the corner. He motioned for me to wait back behind him.

I could barely see the profile of a young woman sitting in the booth. Fergus approached her, and with a hand to her shoulder, said, “Dahlia?”

She turned her head toward him with a smile.

“Dahlia, this is Perrie. Perrie, Dahlia.” He did an awkward hand wave between us as he stepped back.

The woman—Dahlia—stood up. I was first struck by her height—she was a good inch or two taller than I was. Second, it was how beautiful she was. Not just in her looks, not that her long, dark hair, warm face, and dark blue eyes weren’t beautiful, because they were, but because of the aura she gave off.

Kind. Caring. The kind of person you could trust instantly.

If you weren’t me.

Her eyes flitted across my body, looking me over head to toe. Uncomfortable with both her scrutiny and the silence, I decided to break it.

“Dahlia. It’s lovely to meet you,” I said softly, offering her my hand.

She took it. “You, too.” Her smile was just as warm as her eyes were, but I couldn’t bring myself to smile.

I wasn’t fucking happy about this, and I didn’t understand what the hell was happening or why I was here.

I let go of her hand and moved to sit opposite her, but not without shooting Fergus a death glare. The look obviously jerked him into motion, because he clapped his hands with a, “Bye, now,” and disappeared like the jerk he was.

“You want to talk about my brother.” Folding my hands on the table in front of me, I cut right to the point.

“I’m sorry for the deception.” She shifted uncomfortably.

“Fergus already assured me it was all his doing.” My lips twitched despite my unwillingness to smile. “If he hasn’t changed in the past few years, I have no reason to doubt it.”

“I’m almost entirely certain he’ll never change.”

“We’re already finding something we agree on, so that’s a good start.” I paused for a moment. “What about my brother?”

She balked a little at the coldness of my tone, but discussing Damien Fox had never been a favorite pastime of mine as an adult.

Or as a child. As a teen, he’d been everything to me. That had changed.

She tucked her hair behind her ear and sighed. “I’m sorry. I have no idea what to say. This was a good idea in theory, but now, not so much.” She reached for her water and sipped.

No shit, lady. “Discussing my family is never a good idea, theoretically or otherwise.” I pulled my clutch purse onto my lap and looked her in the eye. “If all we’re discovering is that this is a waste of both our time, then you’ll excuse me. I have to get my daughter from school soon, and I’d rather change if I have the time.” I stood, gripping the end of the table.

What a waste of my goddamn time.

“Do you ever think about contacting them?”

I froze. No, I didn’t. I hadn’t for a long time, and I didn’t want to. I peered at this woman over my shoulder. “No. I have no reason or need to contact them. Listen to me, Dahlia. I don’t know how you’re involved with my brother and frankly, I don’t give a shit. But if you have any sense, you’ll run away now. Those men are nothing but poison, and if you let them, they’ll destroy you.”

“With all due respect, I think you’re wrong.” Her voice was soft.

My eyebrows shot up, and I barely managed to fight a snort. “Have you met the ruthless bastard that is my father? Did he con you, too?”

“No, but he’s spent enough time trying to harass me into selling my bar.”

I’m sorry, what?

Goddamn it, she had me. “All right. I’ll bite.” Sliding back into my seat, I kept a tight grip on my purse. “Tell me more.”

“My father died at the beginning of this year, and after a couple of months, yours apparently decided he wanted to buy my bar.”

“I’m sorry. On both accounts,” I said honestly, pushing my hair behind my ear.

“Thank you. For both.” She half-smiled. “He sent your brother to do the dirty work. I left for California to be with family right after the funeral, and I admit, I dropped the ball. My best friend picked it up, and it wasn’t until close to the three-month mark that Damien contacted us. He pretty much harassed Abby until she called me and forced me to come home. I’d like to say he was nicer to me, but he wasn’t, not exactly.”

Oh, boy. I was so surprised at that.

Not.

I shook my head. “Intimidation. I’m sorry. That’s the way he does things. Like he thinks fear is a greater tool than respect. I’m ever more thankful I don’t share his blood.”

“I would be, if I were you,” she admitted. “My point is, I recently found out the extent of his…I don’t want to say control, but influence over your brother.”

“Color me surprised.” This time, I didn’t hide the dryness of my tone. Of course Benedict Fox held control over Damien—the brother I knew and loved would never have treated me the way he did.

“Like I said,” I continued. “Benedict values fear over respect. I’m sure that Damien didn’t necessarily want to be so aggressive in his attempts to buy it. Out of curiosity, were they successful?”

“Like hell they were.” The vehemence in her tone had me smiling.

“Good. Now, tell me about your relationship with my brother. If you’ve gone to the trouble of seeking me out, I can only assume it’s now personal.”

“You’d be right.”

“And if you’re here, that means he finally talked to someone about our childhood.”

She paused, drew in a breath, and then nodded. “Last night. He told me everything.”

“Everything as it happened, or everything as he sees it?” Bitterness tinged my tone, but sadness trickled through me. There was always more than one version of the truth. In this case, there was mine, Damien’s, and Benedict’s. Then everyone else’s. “We have two different views on my estrangement from them. The truth is their reluctance to accept the fact I wouldn’t abort my daughter just because her father plowed his car into a tree and killed himself.”

Dahlia froze. I kept the eye contact with her. If he’d said, the only thing she needed to be shocked about was my delivery of it.

“That’s the story he told me. A little less graphically, but the same.”

Well, shit.

“Damn. There’s one for the books. So, he sent you to check up on me? You’re not as subtle as the investigator who shows up with a check every six months.”

She paused again. “Actually,” she said slowly, meeting my gaze again. “He has no idea I’m here or that I even wanted to contact you.”

O-ho! Was that so?

“Really,” I said flatly. “That’s interesting.”

“Is it?”

“Yes. Because you’re either stupid enough to fall for my brother and care enough to do this or he’s manipulated you into believing what he says.” I leaned back on my seat, tilting my head to the side. “Thing is, you don’t strike me as easily manipulated or stupid.”

She hesitated only a second before she said words I never thought I’d hear in my life.

“I love your brother. He’s not the man you’ve painted him to be. I thought he was, but he proved me wrong. He’s nothing like your father.”

I opened my mouth, but she cut me off.

“And I don’t agree with what he said to you. It was wrong and cruel. He should have supported you regardless, but I also don’t think he meant it. He misses you too much to have believed in the words he spoke to you.”

A lump formed in my throat. The memory of my father’s demands to abort Lola wasn’t nearly as painful as the way my brother had refused to meet my eye as he’d agreed with the self-centered bastard.

It was no wonder I couldn’t forgive him. Damien had once been my best friend. Yet, in being so, he’d hurt me more than anyone had, ever.

“Now, you don’t have to believe me,” Dahlia continued gently, hands wrapped around her glass. “I’m not asking you to, I’m just asking you to listen to me. This is a man who keeps sending you checks and has a bank account for your daughter for when she’s old enough to go to college.”

He did—he does—what?

“He has what?”

“Shit,” she muttered. “Damn it. I assumed you knew that.”

“No.” My voice was scratchy, quiet, barely a whisper, the perfect sound for the way I was feeling. Confusion, frustration, misunderstanding.

Why would he do that? He’d met her once and never cared—only out of duty.

“He basically has a college fund for your daughter, in her name, for when she’s old enough to need it. He cares about you. This isn’t a man who believes you made the wrong choice. It’s a man who, I think, was intimidated by the words he said.” Dahlia reached into her purse and pulled out a small, silver business card holder. She pulled one out and rifled through her bag again.

The whole time, my heartbeat thundered in my ears.

Had I been misunderstanding my brother this whole time?

She placed two hands on the card and pushed it over to me. “That’s my personal cell. If you want to talk or you want to see him…Call me.”

I stared at it for a long moment. Emotion warred inside me, beating me up until I couldn’t make sense of anything.

“Does he want to see me?” I couldn’t take my eyes off the card.

“I think he’d move a mountain to see you if he could,” she replied gently.

Swallowing hard, I bobbed my head twice in acknowledgement. “Thank you. I’ll think about it.”

“You’re welcome. Sorry this wasn’t what you expected.”

“Are you kidding?” I peered up. “This is the first conversation I’ve had in weeks that didn’t involve my boobs or why I’m stepping on Barbie’s shoes every five minutes. It wasn’t enjoyable, but I’ve had worse.” I tucked the card into an inside picket of my purse with a sigh. “Bye, Dahlia. Thank you.”

I tapped the table and offered her a grateful smile right before I got up and headed for the door. Fergus was nowhere in sight, luckily for him. I had a few choice words I intended to share with him when I fixed the clusterfuck inside my head.

“Perrie!” Dahlia’s voice traveled across the bar, and she stopped me before I could close the door behind me. “Perrie!”

Sunglasses in my hand, I turned to face her. “Yeah?”

“Hold on.” She stepped outside, and a young guy passed us, going into the bar. “Can you tend bar?”

I glanced away before bringing my eyes to meet hers. “I have before. Why?”

“On that card. If you’re interested, I need another staff member. Someone just left and we haven’t replaced him yet. Call the number for The Scarlet Letter and ask for Abby.”

Awesome. Here came the charity.

“You don’t need to offer me a job just because you’re sleeping with my brother.”

“You’re right, but I’m not.” She pulled her own, oversized glasses from her purse and touched my arm. “I’m offering you an interview.”

Suspicion made me narrow my eyes. “Why? You don’t even know me.”

She pushed her glasses over her own. “Because I believe you deserve more than the shit your life has thrown at you. Think about it.”

With that, she turned, leaving me standing and staring after her.

Something I’d done an awful lot of lately.

 

***

 

By the time I’d gotten home and picked Lola up from school and gone through the routine, I hadn’t had a chance to think about Dahlia Lloyd and our meeting from this afternoon.

Thanks to the fact I had to be leaving my house in the next five minutes to work, I doubted I’d get much more than the drive to the police station which was a whopping twenty or so minutes on a good day.

My brother had a trust fund for my daughter.

That was all I could think about. He was providing her with a future I didn’t have the option to, because the dirty money that was in my name was in a locked account. Benedict Fox would never buy out the ten percent of the company I owned, but he was gonna make damned sure I was unable to get any of the money that belonged to me.

Not that I wanted it, but still.

Why was Damien doing that? Were the checks he sometimes sent to me not, in fact, out of pity or duty, but because he wanted to help me?

Who was my brother? What kind of a person was he? And how had he changed from the young man who’d stood in front of me and told me to kill my baby?

Could I ever get past that?

I doubted it.

We’d been through so much together, and as a pregnant teen who was alone, all I wanted was my brother to help me through what was the scariest time of my life. But he hadn’t been. He’d made that clear.

And why did he want to buy Dahlia’s bar? Him or our father. Why did he want it? What was so special about it? What was so amazing that he had to harass her for it?

So many questions I’d probably never get a straight answer to, no matter how many times I asked them. Mostly because there was nobody who could tell me the answer.

Dahlia’s card burned a hole in my car door. That’s where I’d dumped it after leaving the cocktail bar. I’d whipped it out of my purse, stared at it for the longest time until my phone alarm trilled at me, and dropped it into the door.

Now, as I drove over a pothole, it rattled in the emptiness. Tsh-tsh-tsh against the plastic inside of the door like an irritating fly buzzing around your head.

I ignored it. I wasn’t interested. Not right now. How could I possibly process all the things she’d told me when I had a job to do?

Tonight, I’d get it done. In. Locate the hookers. Get out. I wasn’t interested in playing Adrian’s girlfriend and having him get all close to me. I’d had enough of that. The sooner I achieved all the things I needed to, the better.

I was going to handle the night with a military-like precision.

If I told myself that enough, maybe I’d start to believe it.