“Trent, let me introduce you to Dred.Dred, this is Trent Andrews, the artist whose work we all liked.”
Trent stood to shake his hand.“Pleased to meet you, man.I’m a big fan.Thought the last album was sick, butScrewedis still my favorite.”
“Glad you liked it.It was a bit different for us.Big fan of your work too.Love what I’ve seen so far.The dragon you did was insane.”
Dred was eye to eye with Trent.Dressed in dark green, ripped-up cargo pants with shit-kicker boots that were unlaced and a leather jacket, he gave off a “Don’t fuck with me” aura.Trent admired that in a man.
“I see you got a pretty deadly set of tattoos yourself.”Dred nodded his chin toward Trent’s arms, and Trent put them out in front of him, turning them to let Dred study Junior’s hard work.
“Yeah, thanks.Had it done by the person I apprenticed with.Legendary tattoo artist out of Miami.”
“I’m thinking of getting my halfs turned full, maybe down my hands.”Dred stood up again and pulled off his leather jacket.“What do you think?”
After an hour of bonding over music and tattoos, it was clear that even if they didn’t pick him for the show, he’d made a good friend in Dred.Same sense of humor and taste in music, tattoos, and cars.When Dred asked him to go drinking with his boys that night, it was a no-brainer.
“Listen, I gotta go take care of some paperwork of my own for this shit, but why don’t I swing by the hotel and pick you up around eight?”
It was nearly six when Trent pulled into the luxurious L’Ermitage hotel.He came to a stop by the tall pillars of the covered walkway.A liveried valet came dashing out of the hotel and took his keys before getting his case out of the trunk.It felt a bit weird having someone half his size retrieve his luggage, like he somehow wasn’t capable of getting it himself.He tipped the guy and went to check in, trying not to gawk at what was likely the best hotel he’d ever stayed at.
The large open-plan room was bright and airy.A low bed sitting on a wooden plinth dominated the bedroom area, piled with way more cushions than any guy would realistically use.He opened the sliding doors and took in his surroundings—gardens pruned to within an inch of their life.He turned back to the room and sank down into one of the two large sofas that flanked a glass table.A wrapped gift and envelope sat atop it.
Trent, Glad you could come out and see us.Think this is the start of a fantastic journey.Michael.
A bottle of Louis Royer brandy.Not his usual drink of choice.Beer or whiskey was more his thing, but he appreciated the sentiment.
Hanging his clothes in the closet, he wondered what Harper would make of his room, which was twice the size of her apartment.
Harper.He was beginning to regret having been dishonest with her.Even he could see the double standard in pressing her to be honest with him and then keeping this back.If he’d told her, she’d be here with him now and he could ravage her on that wicked excuse for a bed.It wasn’t like his agenda was jam-packed either.The meeting was only a day and a half of the trip.The rest was all R & R, buddies, beers, and maybe a bike ride up the coast.Too late, he realized just how much better it would all have been with her there.
He headed out of the suite in search of dinner.Passing a boutique, he remembered that he still owed her a polka-dot bikini.Maybe he’d try and pick it up while he was here in LA.Yeah.He loved the idea of her in a tiny bikini, on a wide lounge chair where he could climb over her while she was hot and oiled.
He reached down to adjust himself.Definitely a mistake not bringing her along.
Maybe they’d have something to celebrate when he got back, though.If this screen test worked out okay, he’d be making some really good coin.Taking a trip with her would be awesome.They could go last minute to Mexico or somewhere in the Caribbean.Her next appointment was likely to be her last, and after a couple of weeks her back would be fully healed.They could afford to take an amazing trip in a level of comfort not quite within his current reach.
Hell, maybe he could even talk to her about moving in.It was getting old carrying a bag of clean clothes in the back of his car in case he got the opportunity to stay the night.Yeah, it was moving fast, but this was it for him.He’d known after the last tattoo appointment, but seeing her with his parents and sister had confirmed it.
He could only hope that Harper was heading to the same place.
***
Second Circle?The fifth is for you.
The circle of Hell for anger.Did Nathan know about the tattoo studio?Was he letting her know how furious he was?How on earth did he know?Outside of Trent’s immediate group of friends, only Lydia knew about their relationship, and she trusted her lawyer with her life.
Harper looked at the anagram she’d unscrambled—Offences stultify horrid choice?—and threw her phone back into her purse.Four messages total.It wasreallyscaring her now.It was definitely not a coincidence.It was Nathan, but how could she convince anyone else?The first message she could convince herself had been a wrong number.The second had made her nervous.The third had taken a while longer to figure out:Father wrongdoer cheek abasement—Absence makes the heart grow fonder.But four?What were her options?In the highly unlikely event it wasn’t Nathan, the investigation would still start with him and she couldn’t risk the Chicago P.D.passing her whereabouts along.If itwashim, she was screwed.The Miami cops might help, but their first call would be to Chicago, and she could only imaginetheirresponse.At best, they’d make her a laughingstock, discredit her, and spin the story like they did at her trial.At worst, they’d persuade the Miami police to share her location.How did police cooperation between states work anyway?Would they be able to do that, or did the police have confidentiality rules about sharing information with other forces?Lydia would likely know.
What if Nathan went after Trent?Or the studio?Who knew what his reach was or what four years in prison had done to his moral code?Would he just come after her, or would he really hurt Trent?
As she pulled the break room door open, her phone rang.She ignored the no-phones-while-working rule.It could be Trent.
“Taylor!”Lydia exclaimed.“I’m so glad to get ahold of you.”
Harper tried not to sound too disappointed.“Hey, Lydia.I was just thinking about you.I’m not supposed to take personal calls on my shift here.”
“Ah, yes.The coffee shop.I hate to have to tell you this, Taylor, but Nathan’s parole was approved this morning.”
Blood rushed to her head, leaving her extremities chilled.Harper put her head down between her knees.This day was always going to come; she’d just hoped it wouldn’t come quite so quickly.She breathed in, slowly and deeply, a little surprised at how quickly she was able to get herself back under control.Two months ago and the news would have provoked a full-blown panic attack.
