Page 29 of Out of the Shadow

Crossing my fingers, I enlist Marlene’s help. “Don’t you think she should get out?” I wheedle. “It’s a gorgeous day now.”

Marlene smiles. “You go, Angie, live a little. I’ll hold down the fort.”

Angie sighs. “I know when I’ve lost a battle. Fine. So long as I’m back here by five.”

After she disappears through that mysterious door in the back, which I now know leads up to her apartment, I go over to my desk and gather up the notes Kaitlyn gave me. I know exactly where I want to go—a beach in Aroostook that Callie and several others mentioned at the condo building’s rooftop party.

The papers in hand, I head over to Marlene’s desk. “Thanks for the backup.”

“Of course.” Her head swivels at the ringing phone. She looks surprised it’s fulfilling its purpose, and I have to admit I am, too. “Angie needs to start living again.”

I can’t ask for clarification because she answers the phone. The interior door opens and Angie walks in carrying an oversized- beach bag stuffed with towels. She’s put her hair into a ponytail, and it strikes me that I’ve never seen her looking this relaxed.

Marlene’s hand flies to her mouth. Placing the receiver to her chest, she says, “Go and enjoy this fine weather.”

Angie hands me a towel as she approaches us. “I wasn’t sure if you had one of these in your car.”

“I don’t. Appreciate it.”

The top of the convertible is already down, so I go straight to the passenger door to let her in. Once she’s settled, I go around the hood, toss my towel into the backseat, and get situated behind the wheel.

“Don’t you need a shirt?”

Without thought, I flex my biceps. “Nah. We’re going to the beach, right? It’s not illegal for me to drive without one on.”

I rev the engine and pull out of the parking lot, immediately caught up in traffic. Angie reaches out and turns on the radio. Cole Manchester’s tenor voice cuts through the car as he sings “To Have and to Hold.”

She turns her head toward me. “So, how are you liking it here on this coast?”

I turn her words over in my head and realize something. “I like it a lot, actually. The gyms are good and my apartment building is a lot of fun. They hold weekly parties that somehow manage not to be lame.”

She nods. “How different is it from LA?”

“There’s a different vibe out here, in this Greater New York City area. I think what appeals to me is how real the people are, you know? There’s an underlying grit around them, if you know what I mean.”

“I think I do. But, if you truly want reality, you should check out my neighborhood in Brooklyn. That’s as real as it gets.”

Poppy’s derisive words pop into my head. “You’re from there, right?”

She sits up, and I bet she’s not even conscious of her defensive body language. “I am.”

I’m about to ask her what brought her to Long Island when the song changes. Hunte’s newest hit comes on. My whole body tenses, and my hold on the steering wheel becomes almost painful.

“Oh, I love this song.” She starts dancing in her seat, then casts a sidelong glance at me, as if weighing my reaction. “Braxton Hunte’s your dad, right? What was it like growing up with him?”

Her words make me want to jump out of my own seat and run across the hoods of the stop-and-go traffic. My breathing shallows out. “He wasn’t around much when I was a kid.”

“Oh.” She turns the radio off, and my muscles instantly relax. “Was he on tour?”

“Yeah.” I rub a clammy hand on my chest.

Angie says, “I’m sorry. That must have been tough for you.” I can tell she means it. I don’t need to ask to know her family’s not like that. Her receptionist is her cousin, and her sister has driven all the way out to the Hamptons, twice, just to do her makeup. Her family’s close.

I force a shrug. “He breezed in and out of my life until I was eight. I don’t really get along with his second wife, so I spent less and less time with them after they got married.”

From the corner of my eye, I see the emotion flit through her eyes. “I guess you’re closer with your mother.”

“Not really.” Why is she dredging up all this shit? I don’t want to talk about my childhood. I can’t. My nerve endings begin to vibrate with resentment, and I honk at the car in front of me, which hasn’t moved since the light turned green a full half-second ago.

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