The line stills. “Do you think he really has information?”
“Probably not. It’s most likely just another ploy to stay connected to my family, although there’s a chance his employer paid him off. But I can’t take the risk. I have to give him one more chance. My father thinks he’s on the verge of cracking.”
He blows out a heated breath. “No matter what I say, you’re going, huh? Like the fucking bikini.”
“Yes. Like the fucking bikini.”
“Shit,” he hisses. He mutters under his breath again before clearing his throat. “Okay. Have it your way.”
“I fully intended to.”
“You’re something else, you know that?”
“It’s been said,” I say, my words pierced with as much levity as I can insert. “But my break is almost over, so I really need to go. Thanks for calling, Fent.”
“Goodbye,” he whispers and I end the call.
The deep blue dress kicks out as I twirl in front of the mirror. It’s pretty, especially coupled with Presley’s red harlot heels, and fits my waist perfectly. The top couple of buttons are undone and I notice my ample cleavage. I hurriedly fasten one, lest Grant get any ideas.
After work yesterday, Fenton sent me a few texts to change my mind. As hard as it was, I held my ground and managed to turn down his final offer via text when I left work this afternoon.
This night has all the potential in the world to go a number of ways and nearly all of them are bad. The one good outcome would be Grant delivering a brilliant bit of information that helps my brother get home. The odds of that are nil.
So why am I even doing this?
I swipe my eyes with another coat of mascara.
I’m doing this because I have to. If Dad is right and he’s on the verge of breaking down, I want to know what he has to say. And if I don’t meet him, he’ll show up here and that’s not safe. So we meet in public and I convince him to leave me alone, and I can come home and pretend I’m back in Vegas with Fenton.
Launching the mascara at the mirror, I hate myself for thinking of him. He pops into my brain like a flashing light and it’s beyond frustrating.
My phone buzzes in front of me and I see it’s my mom. I lurch forward and swipe it on.
“Hey, Mom! Is everything okay?”
“Hi, sweetie. Yes, relax. I’m not calling with news.”
Sighing in both relief and disappointment, knowing that means Brady isn’t free and he isn’t dead at the same time.
“So, what’s up?” I ask.
“Just checking in. Seeing how you are.”
“I’m good,” I say as brightly as I can manage. “Just got off work. Going to dinner in a few.” I think back to the place Grant texted me to meet him. “Checking out a place I haven’t been to before and I hear it’s really good. I’ll probably come home stuffed,” I laugh.
“That’s good. With anyone I know?”
“No,” I lie. I don’t want to get into Grant with her. Not that I have the energy or desire to do it ever, I don’t think she has it in her today either. “Just an old friend. We’re just catching up.”
“You have no idea how happy it makes my heart that you’re going out to dinner,” she sighs. “We have to keep pressing forward, Brynne.”
“I know. And we will. Every day I think of Brady as soon as I get up, and sometimes, just imagining him yelling at me to get up and go is the only reason I actually do.”
“He was always such an early bird,” she whispers wistfully. “You know, sometimes I get up before the sun comes up and watch it and wonder if he saw it rise. The same sun shines on all of us. I just wish it could tell me where he is.”
I wish I was there to hug her. To comfort her. To be home, surrounded by my family. To go into Brady’s childhood room and feel a little closer to him.
“Hyland has a meeting with one of the owners of Mandla this week who has personal ties to Zimbabwe, so he might know more than he’s letting on.”
“Wait up. So one of the guys Brady was working for is from there?”
“I guess. Your father thinks maybe that’s tied in to Brady’s abduction. Maybe he was taken as some sort of retaliation against Mandla.”
I pace the floor in my heels, wishing I could wrap my hands around Brady’s boss’ balls and squeeze until they fall off in a big, dead lump and then feed it to him.
“If that’s true, they aren’t going to tell Hyland anything! If they know this is more than some random thing, they aren’t going to want the blame placed on their shoulders!”
“I know, honey. We’re working on all of that.”
Anger boils in my chest at the thought of my brother sitting for months with a bunch of crazy assholes while this company, out to make money, leaves him for dead.
“Okay. Just checking in. I need to run some errands before your father gets home. Have a good dinner.”
“I’ll try.”
“You’ll try?”