“Yes.” Collins. The end-of-the-season football bash that I don’t have money for. My kidnapper. I get an idea. “What do you offer in the way of dresses? How long does it take from paper to me wearing one of your designs?”
“I have the drawings on my phone. And a week if you need them right away. Four weeks if it’s intricate. But I can make it happen within your time frame, no probs.” She sticks her hand in the pocket of her boy short panties and pulls out her cell.
“Wait a minute, those have side pockets?”
“Yep.” Shit-eating grin on her face. “Here are the designs. I can send you a screenshot and you can pick. Feel free to send to your friends too.”
“Sure thing.”
We exchange numbers.
“Are those boy shorts available in satin and with side pockets?”
“Yes. I also have garter belts and thigh highs with pockets. They’re great for storing cash, cell phone, or a weapon. A girl never knows when she’ll run into danger.”
She shrugs as though she couldn’t care less, but like me, she carries with her the nightmare of her trauma.
“I had a knife in my pocket when I was taken, but my kidnapper caught me by surprise. He came up from behind and drugged me.”
“Though you protected yourself, you were still helpless.”
“Very much so.”
“Do you have regrets about that night?”
“Many. I regret not listening to my family. Regret that my bodyguards took the punishment for my sneaking off. I regret putting my grandfather and cousins through the heartache of searching for me.”
“The news media said you were kidnapped on your way home from seeing your friend.”
“That’s what they were told. What no one knew is that I snuck out three days prior. My cousin Roman later told me my grandfather had his men looking all over Oakland for me.”
“You went missing for three days. The first forty-eight hours is the most important before the trail goes cold. It’s the reason you started your foundation.”
Gia is smart and perceptive.
“Yes. Putting my grandfather through my disappearance and kidnapping—” I heave a shuddering breath. “I’ll be forever remorseful for putting him through that kind of uncertainty.”
“What was your bodyguards’ punishment?”
“Gia—”
“Please, Blaise. I need to know. There was no mention of your bodyguards in the media.”
“They were beat for leaving me unprotected. That’s all I know. I’m sorry.”
“Have you made contact with them? Apologize for what your cousins did?”
“How do you know it was them who did the beating?”
“I’ve seen your cousins, Blaise. See the way they keep a watch over you. They’ll do what is necessary to make sure no one hurts you again.”
“My cousins and your brother are cut from the same cloth.”
“They are.”
Is that an admission of her brother’s involvement in her rapists’ mutilation? The doorbell rings. Gia rises from the couch.
“That’s probably your bodyguard. I should go.”