by Natalie Wrye
My walking shoes are run-through, feet killing me by the time Sevin and I hail a taxi.
I relish in the momentary relief as we settle into the yellow taxi’s back seat.
The air is vibrating with lively activity. Outside my window, I take notice of a slew of walking Chicago Cougars caps, and I glance over at Sevin, finding his handsome face furrowed with utter frustration.
I place my hand on his knee, squeezing tight.
“You alright?”
“If ‘alright’ means ‘losing my mind,’ then yeah, I’m alright.” His smile is sad. “How are you?”
“Hanging in there.” I clamp my fingers. “More worried about you. More worried about Charlie.”
“I know.” His face is half-hidden by his Cougars baseball cap as he stares out of the taxi’s windshield, and I fight the urge to take his hat off. To get him to look at me. To get a glimpse of those green eyes and reassure him. He places his hand over mine. “I am, too. Deborah,” he pronounces her name like a curse, “Charlie’s mom is on her way back from New York, Kayla in tow. And I don’t know what I’m going to say to her. I don’t know how to tell her… I’ve lost our child.”
“I don’t think a woman who abandoned her child should be in the position to judge anyone. And I don’t think you should judge yourself.” I offer up a watery smile, biting into my bottom lip. “I’ve done enough judging you in the past for the both of us. And we could use a break.”
“A break…” he muses, jaw ticking as he considers his words. Tick. Tick. Tick. “I’m sure a break is exactly what Charlie was trying to get when she took off.” He hesitates, and even with the flurry of Chicago city-traffic outside our windows, the taxi air hums, the silence heavy enough to cut with a knife. Sevin lets out a ragged breath that I feel in my soul. He doesn’t look at me. “She knows, doesn’t she? She must have heard us talking last night. Before she… Before we…”
“Don’t,” I interrupt, hand tracing his knee. “Don’t do that.”
“Do what?”
“Play the blame game anymore. It doesn’t help. Sevin,” I lick my lips, needing to say this. “You are miles away from the man I first met, so don’t pretend you aren’t. You’re a good dad. And you have a good daughter. And Charlie’s strong. A complete trooper. Like you.”
I move closer. “Wherever she is, I am sure our little soldier is just fine. And we are absolutely, positively going to find her.” I lean in, peeking under his protective cap. “We will. We’re making the right choice, heading back to the apartment building. Seriously. Charlie’s probably back in front of the apartment as we speak, secretly scolding us for ‘breaking up the team.’”
I notice Sevin smile, a shy curve carving itself on his gorgeous face. His head bows. “Yeah, I almost forgot. ‘The team of ants.’”
I smile, thinking of the eight-year old. “Amazing, isn’t it? We actually wound up ‘Following the Leader’ just like she said. Except she’s the one doing the leading, and we’re just trying to keep up. She’s a natural one, you know…”
Sevin turns to look at me. “A natural what?”
“Leader. She follows the beat of her own drum. She’s certainly better at it than I was at that age. Smart. Resolved. Full of spunk. Head of the pack…” I shake my head at myself. “That’s Charlie. A perfect Emagine.”
“Emagine?”
“My grandmother.” I answer, staring at the sea of people outside our windows, wondering if one of them is Charlie. I exhale. “A woman who followed her own rules. And knew when to break them.”
Sevin’s thumb caresses over my skin, circling my knuckles. “Guessing your grandmother Emagine was a ‘queen bee,’ then?”
I laugh. “She was the ‘queen bee.’ She turned calamity into calm. Anarchy into order. She was…” My eyes water thinking of her. “Amazing.”
“Like grandmother, like granddaughter, I see. A veritable force. Agent of chaos.”
There it is. That notion of chaos.
I realize it was in my grandmother Emagine and all around her. The same chaos is in Charlie, too. And even me.
But I’d been too afraid of embracing it. Too afraid to lose myself to it. And now I can’t think of any other way of living.
Especially when our cabbie slows to a stop by our apartment building, giving us a peek of what’s around the corner…
Pure pandemonium.
There’s a gaggle of cops surrounding the doorway to the luxury Millennium Gardens apartment building, flanking a sea of photogs, cameras poised.
There’s no doubt they’re there for Sevin; they call out his name to any male who exits.
And two weeks ago, this would have freaked the hell out of me, thrown a wrench into my plans.
But two weeks ago, I was a woman who couldn’t function without a plan. And now? I was coming closer to being the woman Violet Keats was. A woman like my grandmother.
A woman Ben encouraged me to be.
Gazing at the quietly clamoring paparazzi, I realize I can slip into chaos. Drown in it.
Or I can swim in it.
The swimming part sounds a hell of a lot better than drowning and before the cabbie can put the taxi in Park, I’m already ordering him to take off, handing him the address from the card in my wallet before Sevin can make a move.
The sports superstar gazes at me, green eyes ablaze. His voice is a low growl inside the car, rumbling soft.
“Em, what the hell are you doing? We just can’t run away. We’ve got Charlie to find remember. I don’t give a damn about those paparazzi right now.”
“I don’t either. But I have a plan. If we’re going to get Charlie back and get her to stay, then we need to do something we’re both familiar with. Something makes sense. We need to work as a team.”
“I thought we were already doing that.”
I shake my head. “Not without the other ants. And I’m taking us back to the anthill.”
Chapter 25
SEVIN
Arriving to Stephan Knight’s infamous Chicago Firm domain is one thing.
Sneaking in is another.
The Firm’s offices are tucked away, barely visible from the street. Enfolded in the same building as an old Chicago cinema, there’s nothing ostentatious about the place where Stephan Knight and his crew solve most of the city elite’s scandals, and as Emily and I walk the short gray block from the cab to the entrance, I can feel the anticipation tugging at me from the inside out.
So many secrets to let go of. So little time.
Two weeks ago, I was a broken man not open to sharing either. But with Emily’s hand wrapped in mine, I know I’m more of a “man” than I’ve ever been.
As a famous baseball player, I’d been caught in a perpetual boyhood, a slave to life’s choices. As a dad, I’m making decisions.
Decisions that could cost me my career. Decisions that could obliterate everything I once thought I cared about.
I tug on Emily’s arm, just as she stops on the sidewalk, her keycard posed over a clandestine sensor. I hold her tight.
“Are we sure you want to do this?”
The clouds from the Chicago sky are in her eyes, but she nods. “I want to do this. I have to do this. It’s going to be okay.”
I lift a brow. “Okay, and if Stephan fires you? I know what this job means to you. And I don’t want to be the reason you screw it up. Not even now.”
The city sky deepens, darkens over us even now as spring thunderclouds roll in.
With the cinema awning hovering over us in hues of dusty red and white—remnants of an old Chicago past, I can make out the new Emily in front of me, the fire in her hazel irises. A flame and determination swirls in their amber depths that makes me damn proud to be at her side.
To see the transformation of the woman once too timid to step out of her own rules.
I’m in awe of her. Especially when she squeezes my hand.
She smiles. “Someone once told me to think about career suicide. To know the path that could lea
d me down to it is not guaranteed. But someone also told me to read the signs. To understand when the universe is pointing me to roads that lead to somewhere great.” Her eyes water. “And this road led us here.”
She points at the sky. Or rather she points at the red letters above our heads, printed atop the cinema.
The featured film on the marquee sign is “The Game Plan,” a sports film from years ago I vaguely remember with Dwayne ‘The Rock’ Johnson. But I can’t recall it all.
Luckily, Emily does it for me.
“It’s a movie about an arrogant playboy star who changes his ways when his daughter comes into his life.”
“And is that arrogant playboy star supposed to be me?”
“There are striking similarities.”
“And you expect me to be any less arrogant by pointing out the similarities between me and Dwayne ‘The Rock’ Johnson?”
I tug her into me, brushing my lips against hers at the thought of how lucky I am to have found her. Even amidst all the madness.
A few minutes later, I find myself alone in an elevator with Emily for the second time since I’ve met her.
Only this time we’re entering and leaving together.
Our lives have come full circle. And now the only piece to complete it is finding Charlie. Something I know we’re close to doing when we step out of the creaking Firm elevator to the ‘team of ants’ waiting for us on the other side.
Sawyer grins the second the doors part, his smile wide underneath his beard. “Bout time you two showed up. Everyone came after you called. They’re waiting in the office.”
Emily and I move forward. As one. Hand in hand.
Breaking every rule we set for ourselves. Setting fire to our old expectations.
And it feels good as hell.
Emily introduces me to her own ‘teammates,’ firm employees, Ben, Bowen and Sabrina who welcome us with warmth. Ben, in particular, smiles at the hand-holding between us, nudging near Emily.
Kayla and Stephan will be the last two firm employees to be present, and with one on her way and the other in the dark, we begin our impromptu meeting.
Each member of our little friend group turned family, including Naomi, takes a seat at the long oak table at the center of the offices, and one by one, we all fall silent, a silent anxiety squeezing the air out of the room as we prepare to handle our biggest problem yet.
Emily stays standing, looking regal, positively royal, her dark hair tumbling down her shoulders. She clears her throat. “Thank you all for showing up. You guys have no idea how much we appreciate it.” She pauses, still holding my hand. I kiss the back of her knuckles.
“We know you all could get fired for even considering what we’re asking you to do. But this isn’t about keeping and upholding The Firm’s reputation anymore. This is about Charlie. We need to make sure she’s brought home as safely as possible and in order to do that, we’re going to need to break some firm rules. And maybe even some of our own. Naomi?”
My assistant, ready as always, stands to her feet next. All eyes, especially Sawyer’s, land on her pretty face, captivated by her commanding presence. The tiny powerhouse spreads her hands, talking quickly, her voice echoing in the open room.
“First things first: We need to figure out how to mitigate the story first. Figure out how to contain it. A salacious one like Sevin Smith’s daughter running away can spread like wildfire when unchecked, and it’s our job as the team on this case to keep the fire in one place. Make sure the other publications don’t pick the rumors up as well. We wouldn’t want to do this magazine any favors by adding any fuel to their fire.” She pauses. “Does everyone get what I’m saying?”
The table answers with a hushed chorus of a few “sure’s” and Naomi keeps speaking, addressing the room.
“That means keeping that ‘cool’ The Firm is so famous for.”
“Of course.”
“That means no speaking to the public. No answering questions.” She stands taller. “And absolutely no scandals to add gasoline to this inferno. This one story’s enough. That means nothing that will draw the attention of law enforcement. Nothing that would make The Firm seem sleazy. Nothing that the Pope wouldn’t approve of. If the Dalai Lama wouldn’t do it, neither should you. At least until…” She trails off ominously.
“Until what?” Sawyer’s the first to speak.
“Or…” she drawls knowingly. “We can address the rumors head-on. Face the fire. See if we can test the heat.” She sighs as the room says nothing in return. “Do you need me to sketch you a map of what I’m trying to say, Saw?”
I interject. “Thanks, professor, but I have a feeling no more markers or crayons will be needed to make your next point.”
Naomi wets the edge of her red bottom lip, the skin tender from the nail-chewing. She drops her hand. “We need to take our time to process this new news.”
“Oh yeah?” Sawyer grumbles, scratching his beard. “Tell that to the ten paparazzi stationed outside Sevin’s apartment at this very moment. Because they certainly won’t give us time. I, uh, don’t mean to add another bucket of water to the rain on this shit-parade. More than what’s already been added.” His dilated pupils bounce from my face to Naomi’s. “But we might want to consider who tipped the press off in the first place. And we might want to do it now. Before Sevin and I have to get on a plane back to Arizona tomorrow.”
“There won’t be a flight back to Arizona. Not if I can help it.” My heart does a double-tap in my chest. I cup the brim of my baseball cap, my eyes lifting to Naomi once more.
And I know where I stand. Finally.
As with Emily, I have to make a decision.
Love or career.
Making a decision, knowing I can’t have both, has never been easier. And I face my two best friends, my gaze steering between both the beard and glasses on either, standing firmly inside of my choice.
“I admit: I should have told you. One of you, at least. But Nome, I’m not going back to Arizona for tomorrow’s game. Not now. Not with Charlie missing.” I manage to finish. “No matter what it could mean.”
Naomi lifts one finger to her spectacles. “Are you serious?”
“As a fucking heart attack.”
“I hate to be a bitch right now, Sev…but a heart attack is exactly what your trainer and coach will have, if you don’t show up for tomorrow’s game against the Fever. And if I didn’t love you so damn much…” She slaps my arms, smirking. “I’d tell you that breaking the news to those guys would cost you extra. You don’t pay me enough to start whacking people.”
I glare over at my rightfully mouthy assistant, resisting a smile. “Really? Because every time Sawyer’s near, you threaten his life.”
She smiles. “That’s because I’d do that job for free.”
I grunt, trying to push the negative thoughts away, the notion that, right now, paparazzi are clamoring outside my apartment.
All because of my secrets.
I was still holding onto a few from some of the most important people in my life.
Having the confidence of your team was priority number one. A lesson I learned from baseball.
Keeping secrets from them was worse than lying to your own parents, and once trust was lost, it could ruin your position on a team.
Like me.
I sigh into my hand, rubbing my palm across my lips. Expelling a ragged breath as I stand to my feet, unable to sit any longer, I notice Naomi’s eyes follow, her frown deepening with every second that I don’t speak.
I spin on my heel to face her before I lose my nerve.
“And you won’t have to look much further for whoever tipped off the press to Charlie’s disappearance. Because the person responsible is right here.” I take a deep breath, letting it out. “The person you’re looking for is me.”
The room rumbles with surprise. Only the shock isn’t at me.
In fact, the rumbling isn’t coming from the rest of the others looking at me. No.
The rumbling comes from the sound of The Firm’s elevator stopping just outside the oval room’s door.
And through the glass walls, I can see exactly who’s coming out of the lift onto our floor without hesitation.
Not that she’s ever hesitated at anything.
Not even in these last nine years.
Pushing away from the table, I make a beeline for the exit door.
The sounds of my own heart beating shoves out all sense from my overworked mind. Because even reason isn’t enough to calm me down.
Several sets of eyes settle on me as I clamp a fist at my side, bottom lip twisting as I come to a stop steps away from where Kayla and Stephan stand.
But it’s not the two firm employees who have my attention.
It’s the blonde behind them who does. And I watch with wary eyes as the sophisticated socialite’s brown irises rest on my body, taking me in.
She hasn’t changed in almost a decade. Except for her eyes.
The pair before me are redder than they’ve ever been. Fresh with tears. And with one timid step forward and one word, she pushes me back into my sordid past, leaving me gasping for air, the time travel sapping my body of all breath as I blink to fix my vision.
But it’s not imaginary. She’s real.
I can tell because it’s my name coming off her usual full lips. She mouths it softly.
“Sevin.”
I grip the fist at my side harder, my words gritty, responding to her unexpected greeting with nothing but disbelief. I say her name back.
“Kimmy.”
Chapter 26
EMILY
Sunday
I hate everything about this woman. And I’ve never met her.
I hate her gorgeous face. Her sly smile. I hate how she walks across the hallway in The Firm office as if she owns it. And I hate that the adoring world allows it.
In fact, I don’t think there’s a thing about this woman I don’t hate.