“Yes, Brandon is different. I won’t deny it.”
“I think it’s cute,” Alison said in a matter of fact tone. “The big bad sadist is in love.”
“Alison.”
“Well, you are. I think it’s great that you have found someone who gets your blood going. I’ve been around you enough to know when someone gets you going. Brandon definitely does that.”
“He does.”
“Have you guys done it?”
“Alison,” I said a little more firmly.
“Well.”
“No.” I paused and thought about all of our playful touching, well, groping. He loves it when I spank him. When the time is right, I’d take him. “Not yet.”
We drove around, and as we made it to Beverly Hills, where Brandon grew up, my phone blared the notification of an incoming text. Quickly I looked at the screen, and Alison asked if it was Brandon.
Andrew: I made it to your house and will hang out inside. I drove through your neighborhood a few times and looked for him. No sign of him, though.
James: Thank you. Sam will be stopping by after he gets off work.
Andrew: Got it. I’ll be sure to let him in.
“No. It was Andrew. He just arrived at the house.”
I returned my attention back to the sidewalks and mansions as the humid air from outside seeped into the car. Beverly Hills was full of what I called overnight money. Considering how skittish Brandon was around money, it was almost ironic that he lived there most of his life. I rubbed my hand over the rough stubble along my jaw as I considered where Brandon’s hang-up with money stemmed from. There was a chance that it was from growing up here, though I was still pretty sure it had to do with something else.
From what I knew about the demographics of Beverly Hills, many who lived here had success and earned money outside of mainstream employment or lines of work. They were public figures or celebrities of some sort—musicians, actors, models. There were also a fair amount of high profile attorneys and doctors who lived here too, though.
“Shit. These houses make me feel dirt poor,” Alison said as we drove along an obnoxiously lit sidewalk. Each house had between two and three natural gas lamplights.
“Honestly, if Brandon was roaming the streets somewhere, I would feel much better knowing he was roaming around up here,” I admitted.
“Who was his mom again? I forgot.”
“Haley Cooper,” I reminded her.
“That’s right. The supermodel. I remember seeing her in magazines. Clothing mainly, if I remember. Oh! And she did makeup ads too.”
“She had Brandon modeling a bit as well.”
“I’m not surprised. I bet he was quite the handsome and popular kid in high school. He has those brilliant blue eyes and that playful gleam in them.”
“Brandon is very easy on the eyes,” I agreed with her and looked down at my cell phone when it made the noise again.
“What is it?” Alison asked eagerly.
Sam: I’m at your place. I asked the emergency room desk to notify me if Brandon showed up.
James: Thank you.
Sam: I checked the streets as I drove over here. I didn’t spot anyone who looked like Brandon.
Even though I was focused on the cell phone, Alison’s wide yawn hadn’t escaped my attention. She was tired.
“It was Sam,” I informed her before returning my gaze to the sidewalks. “Did you work today?”
