Page 23 of For Love & Torture
Chapter 12
Grant
One month later
After another busy night at the club and a filling breakfast of a Denver omelet, Isabel and I head out of the small 24-hour café. We all came in the company limo, and Tad Johnson is the first to climb inside. “Fuck, am I tired.”
Steve Wilkins follows him in. “Me too. Bushed completely.”
Frank Devine gets in next, looking back at Isabel and me. “I’m hitting the hay as soon as the driver drops me off.”
“Grant!” I hear a man shout at me.
I turn slowly as I recognize the voice immediately. “Jake?” I turn to see my younger brother, a man who’s too young to be out drinking as he’s only twenty. But by the way he’s stumbling, I know he’s found some alcohol somewhere.
“He looks like you,” Isabel is quick to spot. “Is that your…”
“Brother.” I have to hold out my hand to stop Jake from trying to hug me, but it does no good.
His arms are all around me as he hugs me tightly, reeking of gin. “Grant. My God. It’s so good to see you, brother. I’ve missed you. We all have. It’s been three years. Did you know that? Three years, big brother. Three years too long.” Hiccup.
Isabel tugs on my arm. “He’s driving, Grant.” She tosses her head to the car he got out of. “You should drive him home. He’s in no condition to be driving.”
“You’re right.” I hold my brother out and give him a scowl. “Why are you driving, Jake? Do you know how dangerous that is?”
His light blue eyes cloud up, and he sniffles, “I miss her. I miss Dad. And I miss you.”
Running my arm around his shoulders, I head over to his car with him to get him away from the others. Then it occurs to me that I’ll need a ride home after I drop him off. I’m not about to take his car home and have to deal with him tomorrow.
Looking over my shoulder, I call out, “Isabel, come with us, please.”
“Of course,” comes her quick reply. I have to hand it to the young woman, she’s every bit the consummate professional, not letting our little problem in the beginning stop her from making this job work for her. She’s at my side in no time. “It sounds like he’s pretty sad, Grant. Perhaps you should consider spending the night with him tonight.”
“No.” That’s all I can say.
I’m not entirely sure it’s such a good idea to have Isabel around my drunk brother, who has already said more than I wanted anyone to know. But I would rather it be Isabel than anyone else.
Once I’ve gotten the car keys from Jake, I unlock the doors, and we all get in. Jake is in the back, I’m in the driver’s seat, and Isabel is in the passenger side.
“Is she why you don’t come around anymore, Grant?” Jake lays back on the seat and glares at Isabel.
“Me?” Her hand flies to her chest. “Not me. So your name is Jake. Hi, Jake. I’m Isabel Sanchez. It’s nice to meet you. I work for your brother.”
“You should probably just close your eyes and go to sleep, Jake.” I don’t want him saying too much.
“And you should just accept my phone calls. Jenny and Becca would like to talk to you too. There’s been some news we’ve been trying to tell you, but you won’t accept any of our phone calls. Mom’s body is going to be executed.”
“Executed?” Isabel asks in horror. “But how?”
“He means exhumed.” I shake my head as it fills me with dread to know they have managed to get that done without my help after all. “Shit! Why did you all do that, Jake?”
“Because we had to. You don’t understand. Mainly because you don’t want to. Something else was up. We all talked and figured it out. Jenny said Mom wasn’t herself the last months before they left on the trip.” I hear Jake gulping and look in the rear-view to see he’s got a bottle of something and is chugging it.
“Shit! Get that away from him, Bell.”
She turns in the seat, reaching back and pulling it out of his hands quite easily. “You don’t want alcohol poisoning, do you, Jake?” She sits back down and smiles at me. “Bell? A nickname. I like it. My granny used to call me that.”
“It’s just quicker, and I didn’t want him to ingest any more of that stuff he’s been drinking.” I can see her inner delight that I have come up with a little nickname for her on the fly.
