I have no clue what illicit this change in him until I turn to see a man dressed similarly to him. Blue scrubs. White hair. Wrinkles around his eyes. His badge reads: Harold Wright, Chief of Cardiovascular Surgery.
“Dr. Wright.”Grayson lets out a nervous laugh, the kind a kid makes when he’s been caught red-handed.In truth, he’s just a thirty-two-year-old man caught bullying his best friend.“Would you like to join us for lunch?” He gestures to the empty seat beside him.
The old man laughs so wholeheartedly that I might get a toothache. “Oh, no, that's alright.“I only came here to tell you about this new case we got today. Hope to get your input if you have some time on your hands.There’s no rush, though. You can join me in my office after your break.” He smiles one last time before walking away.
It’s only when the man exits the cafeteria that Grayson's soul re-enters his body.
“Boss,” he says, like it explains it all. “I need to stay on his good side if I want to get hired after residency.”
“You seemed scared of him, though.”
Grayson shrugs. “He’s a nice man for the most part, but once you piss him off, there’s no going back. Plus, he keeps asking me if his daughter can shadow me for a few weeks to discover the ‘joy that is cardiovascular surgery,’ and I keep avoiding it. If he likes me enough, he won’t take it as an insult.”
“Why are you avoiding it?” I ask.
Apparently, I’ve been kept out of the loop when it came to Grayson’s work life.
“Why don’t I want a seventeen-year-old girl following me around for weeks? I feel like the answer is obvious.”
An image of Dr. Wright pops up in my mind.Seventeen?The man is too old to have a daughter that young. But his last name sounds oddly familiar.Wright. I’m not sure if it’s a common last name, but I feel like I know someone who shares it.
Needless, I nod in agreement. “I can’t blame you.”
The slice of peace I’d gotten during our interaction dissipates when Grayson slams his fist down on the table, eyes blazing in my direction.
I recoil in fear.
“Back to business,” he seethes. “We’re here to talk about your problems, not mine. So go fuck up your ex-friend and win the girl.”
———
A chill runs up my spine as I get out of my car, circling around it to face what must be the most deserted building on the outskirts of the city.
According to Melanie, this is the location of Carter and the Crawford Aerospace headquarters. And if it weren’t for my trust in her stalking skills, the sole other vehicle parked in the lot, and the trash bags accumulating next to the front entrance, I’d say the place was abandoned.
I take a deep breath in, shoving down the feeling of uneasiness that settles in my bones as I take my first step forward. With each one in the direction of the brick establishment, snow crunches beneath my boots—the sound awfully loud in such a quiet space.
This was it. The confrontation of the century. There was no backing down now.
I freeze when I reach the door and place my hand on the handle. My heart beats faster at the uncertainty that lies on the other side. And while a part of me hopes I can avoid the inevitable altogether, the universe has other plans for me.
The door squeaks open, and just as I take a large step back, it slams against the wall from a strong gust of wind.
Dusty desks. Chairs askew and jutting out at odd angles. Empty alcohol bottles litter about every inch of the space. What’s supposed to be an office looks far from such.
A creak drifts down from the floor above, followed by the sound of footsteps and the muffled shouting of someone arguing.
Someone’s here—there’s no denying it. And like all main characters in horror movies, I follow the direction of the noise as quietly as possible to make my way up the weathered wooden stairs.
“Leave me alone, Mom!” an angry voice shouts.
The air, heavy with quiet, is broken by frantic pacing. Back and forth. Back and forth. I'm growing dizzy just thinking about it.
“I know I failed you. I know I failed the Crawford legacy. But there’s nothing I can do about it now. Just wire me the money so I can stay afloat for the next while.”
Well, I’ll be damned—Melanie was right. Carter motherfucking Crawford is here. And as it turns out, he still speaks to his mother the same way he did in university.
I stop midway up the staircase, deciding it’s the perfect place to listen in on this conversation.
