If I wasn’t watching Mallory specifically for her subtle reactions, I might have missed the annoying flicker in her eyes before her entire face lights up again. “I’m so happy to hear that.” She looks around, as if curious. “Where is our little rock star?”
“Oh,” I say, before nodding to the door behind her, “she’s probably taking her morning walk. Why don’t I take you on a little tour while we look for her?”
Mallory blinks, appearing caught off guard. “That sounds wonderful.”
I clap my hands together. “Great. Right this way.”
“I guess she must be in the office by now,” I say.
Four hours later, after several breaks so that Mallory could sit to tap out frantic messages on her cell phone and one tortuous lunch alone with the overly flirtatious woman, we're finally heading back toward reception. I know far too much about her six years at Urgency, all the high-profile clients she’s had the pleasure of working with, and how eager she is to be of assistance with Camp Bexley’s reopening. Even after I was insistent on the fact that we’re in good hands, she didn’t seem to hear it.
I lead Mallory back into the main building through the staff entrance and down the hall to my office. Hope is there, her eyes laser focused on the screen while she types like mad. I almost hate to disturb her, but any more delays and I think Mallory will bust a blood vessel in an eye.
Hope looks up at the sound of our approach. She adopts a shocked expression that just might be believable. “Mallory, what a surprise.”
Mallory’s laugh comes out a bit forced as she steps into the room. “I wanted to stop by and check on you. See how you’re doing. See if you need anything.”
Hope’s tight smile spreads wide. “Everything is going great here. You should have called.”
There it is. The crack in the armor, and the tension is already billowing out.
Mallory presses the tips of her fingers to her chest and gasps with what seems like exaggerated offense. “And miss the opportunity to see Camp Bexley for myself? No way. Anderson just got done giving me a tour, and I already have so many ideas I’d like to run by you both.” She looks between us like she’s bursting at the seams with all that she wants to contribute.
Hope’s smile falls. “That’s wonderful, Mallory. Unfortunately, our budget leaves little wiggle room for wish-list items, but if you’d like to send me an email with your ideas, I can find some time to run them by Anderson once our work here is complete.”
Mallory’s lids narrow slightly before she widens them again and beams back at Hope. “Nonsense. There’s always room to enhance the quality of our offerings.”
Hope sharpens her eyes. “I assure you, our client is very pleased with the offerings he’s been provided.”
This time, Mallory’s eyes lift in surprise. “Is that so?”
Both women turn to me, and I know this means I have to pick a side. Of course, I’m with Hope, but how do I let Mallory know that without digging Hope a bigger hole than she’s already finding herself in because of me? Part of me wants to stay and agree with everything Hope is saying, and the other part of me wants to lead Mallory straight back to her car where she can drive off into the sunset.
What kind of environment is there at Urgency after all? And why the hell am I giving them my business if Dexter pits his employees against each other like they’re competitors instead of members of a team? Only an arrogant prick would do something so evil.
“I am very pleased with all the offerings,” I say, hoping to dissolve the matter with a few words. “However, since you came all this way, I would love to hear your ideas and take them into consideration.”
Mallory smiles as if she’s won. “Wonderful.”
I can feel Hope’s harsh glare and cringe. I don’t like how Mallory makes Hope feel. I sure as hell don’t like the fact that Hope has had to deal with this condescending woman for the past year. And I hate that Hope still feels loyal to a company with people who have done nothing but belittle her in my presence. It’s shameful, but I made Hope a promise that I wouldn’t interfere, so I won’t.
I watch Hope for the cues I need to make my decision about what to do. And right now, her level gaze is telling me to get the hell out of her office so she can talk to Mallory alone. So I nod begrudgingly and close the door behind me as I go.
“This is going to be interesting.” Jami’s voice startles me, causing me to freeze then walk toward him.
“You have no idea.”
Jami chuckles. “Oh, I know a thing or two. Did you forget I’m familiar with Dexter’s company?” He points to the wall, signaling to the room next door. “That woman is ferocious. You don’t want her on your bad side.”
My gut feels weighted with discomfort. I can’t believe I left Hope alone with that woman. “I think it’s too late for that. I’m sure Dexter sent her here to rattle Hope.”
“That doesn’t surprise me one bit.”
I fold my arms and lean into the door frame, knowing that if I’m going to do as I promised and let Hope handle her career without my interference, then I need a distraction, a change of subject. “Any more thoughts about hiring a private eye to find Benny?”
Jami cringes. “Those thoughts never stop. I just want to know he’s okay. Mom would appreciate some good news too. She loves their land in Bellingham, but she’s mentioned several times how much she misses when we were all together. I know she’s with Dad, but she’s lonely, Andy.”
My chest squeezes. I know the lonely feeling all too well, but if my brothers never return home, there’s nothing I can do to fix what’s been broken. We’ll all have to find a way to cope.
“You still haven’t talked to Dad, huh?”
Jami shakes his head. “Nah. Just Mom. So much time has gone by. Sometimes I have trouble remembering what caused such a huge divide, and then other times, I remember the pain so deeply, it’s like I’m right there back in the stables getting whipped by his crop like I was some fucking horse he needed to train.”
An image of Jami at nineteen, with a long, red welt slashed across his back makes my chest clench and my body ache. But there’s no worse image than Jami’s face after Dad took the crop to him. I’ll never forget those sad, watery, hazel-green eyes staring back at me. It wasn’t pain from the rope that made him cry that day—it was the permanent scar left on his heart.
I wince at the memory. “I wish I’d gotten there sooner. He was out of control.”
Jami shakes his head. “It wasn’t the first time, but I’m glad it was the last. He completely lost his fucking mind after Ty died. I tried to deal with it for as long as I could, Andy, but five years later, I hit my limit. Anyway, all that shit is in the past now.”
I want to argue that clearly it’s not. He’s still thinking about it. And while he might have stuck around another five years after his last beating, his resentment for our father only grew darker and more intense. Even then, my father wasn’t completely responsible for Jami leaving. Something awful happened on that final day—something that drove Jami to do what he’d always threatened to do and run off to the city where he could get lost in the lights. I don’t know what. To this day, Jami refuses to tell me what happened.