Page 42 of Glamour and Grit

Then it hits me, that maybe thisisthe real Dane, and the persona he showed me last night is the facade. Maybe he’s one of those guys who’s really good at making you feel wanted and special when they really could take or leave you?

As much as his attitude has hurt my feelings, I don’t believe that about Dane, however. I still think that he’s a decent man on the inside. But he’s a decent man with baggage, clearly, and that baggage is getting in between us in the worst possible way.

Even when I stir from my slumber, head resting on the passenger side window, I try not to give any sign that I’m no longer asleep. It just seems a lot less awkward if I pretend.

In a way, the sleepiness is a blessing. I don’t have to feel anxious about not speaking to Dane, since I’m about to pass out anyway when we return to the compound. I collapse into the bed, barelytaking the time to slip off my shoes and bra without taking off my shirt.

I sleep the sleep of the dead, ironically enough given the show I work on. When I awaken, the afternoon sun beams through the compound windows. Dane is nowhere on the rumpled sheets. I get up and pad on bare feet into the living room and find him slumbering on the sofa.

Seeing him asleep hits me like a slap in the face. If he’d been awake and doing something, it would have been different. But now it just seems like he’s trying to avoid me, and that hurts.

I go back to bed and try to sleep, but it’s too late. My mind has come fully on-line and works itself up too much for me to return to slumber. Instead, I lay there on the bed and stare at the ceiling, trying to figure out where I went wrong with Dane.

Thinking back to it, things were going great until after we slept together. Then he went out to ‘check security’ or whatever he wanted to call it. In truth, that was when his avoidant behavior first began.

He’s only gotten worse since then. I don’t know how long I lay there, staring up at the ceiling before drifting back to sleep. The sound of Dane’s phone awakens me. I hear him stir in the living room, then answer the call with a slumber-heavy voice.

“What’s up?”

I can’t make out who’s on the other end or what they are saying. But I can hear the excitement in Dane’s voice when he responds.

“No shit? Where? Hang on, hang on, let me find a pen or something…or you could just text it. Yeah, text it, text it! I’ve got to move fast before he goes on the move again.”

Is he talking about my brother? I rush into the living room just as he ends the call.

“What’s going on, Dane?” I ask.

He starts at the sound of my voice. His eyes remain inscrutable as he looks up at me.

“The office has been working some angles on this case for me. They just fingered a possible person of interest we really need to speak with.”

“Oh. Who? Is it someone who will know how to find Justin?”

He cocks an eyebrow at me.

“Maybe. It’s William Petty, the guy I mentioned earlier. I don’t want to get your hopes up too much, but he’s a well-known associate of the Moreno family.”

“Associate? Like a friend?”

Dane grunts as he pulls on his boots and laces them up with efficient moves. The tendons stand out in stark relief on his hands as he pulls the laces tight.

“More like an unofficial member of the mob. Petty’s not Italian, so he’s not a member of the family. But he does work for them.”

“What kind of work?” I ask.

“Nothing too hands on. He’s a Cleaner, as in he takes illegitimate money and makes it look legit by funneling it through various shell companies, among other tasks. I guess you could say he’s a subcontractor for white collar crimes.”

“Everybody's got to earn a living somehow,” I say. “All right, so what are we going to do? Are you going to shake him down for information?”

“If I have to,” he says. “Listen, it’s not safe for me to leave you alone, but Petty could be dangerous, too.”

“You want me to stay in the car? Or maybe I should just get in the trunk, I’ll be super safe in there.”

Dane’s mouth twitches a scowl. “I’m serious, Selene. Don’t let your guard down, not even for a moment.”

“All right,” I say, more stiffly than I intend.

We don’t talk much on the way back into town. I make a few forays into conversation, or an attempt at one, before his terse answers irk me and I stop. Now I’m starting to think that it might be a good thing that we’ve found this lead in Petty.

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