Brooks looks at his big brother from across the table. He brushes his hand over his face, looking up at the ceiling like he’s searching for some clarity. Finally, he nods and leans forward.
“Alright,” he says. “What can I do?”
Julian clears his throat.
“You are the only one who has worked closely on Dad’s end of the businesses in the last ten years. There are some key players that are in this with him, and we need to know what makes them tick. We need to know how to get Wren hired. And we need to know what the process looks like.”
Brooks looks at him, then his eyes move back to me. He nods slowly.
“Give me the names. I’ll figure it out,” he says.
“We need answers quickly,” Keaton reminds him. “She needs to apply.” Brooks nods and stands up.
“I’ll get back to the office today,” he says. He starts walking toward the door, but he stops just feet from me. “I believe these stories,” he says. “But you…there is something about you that I don’t trust. I will do everything I can to help these women. But if there is any other reason that you are doing this besides getting to the truth, I will find out what it is.”
“Brooks—” Keaton starts to warn him, but I scoff as I roll my chair back and stand.
“No need to worry,Brooks,” I say with a condescending spin on his name. “I don’t trust you either. So the feeling is very mutual.” I turn back to Keaton and Julian. “I hope you will both understand that I don’t feel one hundred percent confident in my chances—or my safety—resting inhishands. We will need to all discuss everything together.”
They both nod.
“Of course,” they say in unison. I nod back. I turn back to Brooks, but he is on his way out the door.
“We will call you as soon as Brooks has some info,” Julian says. “And Wren?”
“Hmm?”
“Don’t write him off yet,” Julian says. “He’s different, but he’s still our brother. He has a good heart. This is just a lot, but we can count on him.”
I nod slowly. “Okay,” I say. “Talk to you both soon.”
But as I make my way out of the weird little secret suite, I feel anything but reassured.
BROOKS
My head is spinning.
I so badly wanted this to be a bad dream.
I so badly wanted my dad to be a good man.
I so badly wanted there to be a way out of this.
But it’s not a dream. Innocent women are getting hurt—have been getting hurt—for God knows how long.
And yet, all I can think about is my mom.
The mistress.
The twenty-something-year-old massage therapist that my dad left his first wife—my brothers’ mother—for.
When he was in his fifties.
She had nothing. And when he decided enough was enough, he made sure to leave her with nothing too.
I’ve spent so much of my life hating him for what he did to her. But I knew the only way to take care of her, the only way to give her everything she deserved, was to play his games. Make the money. Give her back everything he took.
And over the last few years, that’s what I’ve been doing—slowly but surely getting my shit together, trying like hell to leave my joke persona behind.
