“I programmed it into the phone. Keep it hidden, too. I feared James might be monitoring your cell phone, so I bought that one. This way, we could talk without him finding out.”
Harlow sighs into the phone. “I decided to leave him last night. I have a plan.” I hear Emma give a shout in the background, but Harlow’s voice sounds unsteady and forced. Though, I don’t hear tears in her tone. I hope she is doing better.
“What’s your plan?”
“Well ...” she pauses, “I’m going to pawn something in the morning. If I get enough for it, then I’ll have some money to rent an apartment. I can probably get my old job back, too.”
Pawning? No way in hell am I letting her do that to get out from under James’ hold. But if I come at her too strong, how am I different than James? She’s owning her decisions, and I need to push back and let her.
“Before you do anything, will you meet me in the morning? You need to know about James’ history. He’s had issues. Obsessive ones.”
“I feared this already.” I’m not surprised that she has this insight into James. She has lived with him for months. Leaving him wasn’t an easy decision.
“Where can we meet?” I ask.
“Don’t you have your clerkship in the morning?”
“I’ll worry about that. Just meet me, okay? I don’t want you trying to handle leaving James alone.” I want to add that I worry what my uncle might be capable of, but I don’t. Harlow’s anxiety is likely through the roof already.
“Okay … but I feel horrible to make you miss anything at The Clinic.”
“Don’t. I think you’re brave.” And worth it.
“Thanks. I can’t believe you’re doing this for me.” Her sweet, appreciative response makes me smile. I want to do more than share her burden. I want to carry it, shield her from being used by James ever again, protect her from harm.
“Where can we meet? I don’t know the area, so I’ll leave it up to you.” The drive to James’ condo continues as I talk to Harlow. The Porsche rides like a dream, but I feel as if I am part of a twisted nightmare.
“Let me think,” Harlow says.
James and I are approaching downtown. I can see The Clinic on the horizon standing out like a beacon of the city. It is Rochester. Remove the doctors, nurses, and staff from the community, and the businesses catering to them would never exist.
“Somewhere private,” I interject. “Just to play it safe. James works tomorrow, right?”
“Yes,” Harlow says. “He works every day, Monday through Friday, and is on call for heart transplant surgeries. He’s always gone.”
I imagine her reading poetry or writing a few lines in her cheap spiral journal while she sits alone in James’ mansion. The vision makes me see red and I vow it will change—no matter the cost. To hell with this clerkship, Harlow comes first. I may have Elliot blood flowing through my veins, but I am not my uncle or my father. I have a chance to prove it with Harlow and nothing will stop me.
“I know a place. My mother and I used to go to a small lake outside of town. We can meet there. I’ll text you the directions.” I can hear the shift from sadness to hopefulness in her tone and relief washes over me. I want her to trust in her decision and believe I am going to be there for her.
“Can you meet me at eleven?” I remember having a late morning break until about one.
“Sure,” Harlow says. “And thanks, Sin. I can’t tell you what your help means to me. I don’t want it to come in between you and your uncle, though.”
“What happens between me and my uncle will never be your fault,” I say through gritted teeth. “From here on out, I will only think about what is best for you. It’s time someone did.”
We end our call as James slows in front of a large modern building and signals to turn with his blinker. The architecture doesn’t match the surrounding tired and old buildings. It appears to be a tear down and then rebuild. The shining glass windows and balconies remind me of the upscale high rises in New York City, like my apartment building, where the human eye can scan the glory of the skyline, see all the manmade wonders. I wonder why James doesn’t live here versus his remote fortress surrounded by open spaces. My guess is the country serves his purpose to keep Harlow away from others. The house and gated grounds have made a beautiful and deceptive prison, until now.
James turns his car toward the underground parking lot and I continue behind him, entering the secured entrance after he speaks to the attendant in charge. We wind around a couple sharp corners, then James parks his Mercedes in a spot marked “Penthouse 13A”. I pull into the empty space next to him with the same sign.
I climb out of the car and circle around to the passenger side door. I open the door and gather my belongings lying on the passenger seat, the only place I can stow my luggage. Trunks in this sports car work if you have a bottle or two of wine, along with a small order of takeout. I am not sure last night’s pizza box would fit inside it. The car may be worth more than the average house in this town, but it is for show over function, that is for damn sure.