Audrey’s Inn

by Aycart, Elle

  By now Audrey was as red as a frigging tomato, so Con went to her and encircled her shoulders with his arm. “Come on, Grandma, stop embarrassing her.”

  Greta waved him off and sat near her friends. “Nothing to feel embarrassed about. Audrey,” she said, taking off one of her necklaces, “This belonged to your grandmother. She gave it to me because she knew I loved it. I think it should go back to you now.”

  Audrey shook her head, trying to refuse, but Con knew there was no stopping Greta. Especially when the other OGs were smiling and nodding and oohing-aahing about how nice the jewelry looked on her.

  “I really can’t accept this,” Audrey said.

  “Nonsense,” Greta countered and turned to the tombstone. “Your granddaughter is too humble. We’ve got tons to tell you. I was sent to a shrink by my son, can you believe it?”

  “What she won’t believe is that he declared you sane,” Rebecca muttered.

  “True,” Greta said. “And I didn’t have to bribe him. What else do we need to tell Audrey?”

  As the OGs began describing how they’d gone to a simulator for skydiving, and how Rebeca had gone blonde in Florida, Rachel and Mike sat on the blanket and ate sandwiches, Con took Audrey aside and hugged her.

  “I can’t accept their presents.”

  “Yes, you can. And you should.”

  “I’m not who they think I am,” she whispered against his chest.

  “They think you’re the only thing left of their dear departed friend. You said yourself that Audrey had no one but you, which makes you the only reminder of the real Audrey. Which makes you the only thing on earth connected to the old Audrey.”

  The logic was shaky, but it was there. Audrey didn’t try to fight it—although she was feeling uneasy, he could tell. “Can’t follow you too well. I’m getting confused with so many Audreys.”

  “Tell me about it. Old Audrey. Real Audrey. Fake Audrey. I can’t keep them straight anymore. My argument is sound, though.”

  His goofiness got him a smile, so it was worth it. “Come on, let’s eat something.”

  They went back and sat on the blanket with Mike and Rachel. They listened to the grannies’ stories while they ate sandwiches and drank Kool-Aid. The stories were old, from when the OGs were young, and Con had heard them before, but he enjoyed them nevertheless. Audrey was spellbound, her eyes glittering with excitement.

  Con studied the picture on the tombstone. It was of a young, smiling woman. His grandma and the others had picked their own tombstone pictures long ago, he’d heard. From when they were “pretty and fresh,” he’d heard that too. OG Audrey did look like fake Aud: similar features, same eye and hair color. Probably what made them most alike was their demeanor. Something in the attitude, in the posture. Oh, and that cute birthmark near her mouth.

  After a couple of hours, they ran out of food and drink and decided it was time to leave.

  “Sorry we didn’t bring any alcohol, Audrey,” Wilma said, talking to the tombstone. “We didn’t drive here, but we felt dizzy enough with the speed and the bumps. Rachel installed seat belts in the sidecar, but just in case, we abstained. We’ll have a drink in your honor later.”

  “What do you think of having Audrey drive us back?” Rebecca suggested.

  If Audrey’s expression was anything to go by, that question had caught her by surprise. “Me?”

  Wilma and Greta each grabbed one of Audrey’s arms and headed for the front gate. “Great idea,” Greta said. “Let’s get our drink at the inn.”

  “I don’t think I can drive the OGmobile, ladies. I don’t have a driving license for it.”

  The OGs waived her off. “Like that ever stopped them,” Mike grunted at the same time.

  “We’ll soon be in-laws with the sheriff,” Wilma pointed out. “We’ll tell him we forced you to. Besides, what can he do to us? Arrest us? Please, “happy hour” cell, here we come.”

  With an amused snort, Greta and Rebecca assented. Con wasn’t too clear on what a “happy hour” cell was, but obviously it didn’t scare the OGs in the least.

  “It’s pretty easy, much more stable than a traditional motorcycle,” Rachel offered. “And it’s a straight line from here to the inn. Mostly. You guys should be fine.”

  “Oh God.”

  “We’ll drive behind you,” Mike suggested.

  They had made it to the motorcycle by then, and Audrey grimaced as Rachel explained how it worked.

  “More or less like the Jet Ski, but without a safety cable to keep me from flying off,” Audrey said to Con. “Oh, and let’s not forget that asphalt is a bit harder than water.”

  “You got this,” Wilma said, putting on a helmet and handing Audrey another. “We have faith in your abilities. Your grandmother never once had a spill.”

  “If you want, we can sign waivers exempting you from liability,” Rebecca volunteered.

  “No need, Grandma,” Mike said. “Everyone in Alden knows none of you were forced into the OGmobile.”

  Audrey made a face at Con, who laughed. God, she was gorgeous even in dire straits. He kissed her on the lips and put the helmet on her. “Break a leg.”

  “Better mine than theirs, right?” she asked, tilting her head toward the grandmas, who giggled.

  “Same black humor as your grandma, honey.” The aviator sunglasses and vintage helmet clashed badly with her clothes, but Audrey still looked adorable.

  Once the OGs were on board and well strapped in, and Audrey had taken the wheel, Rachel snapped a picture. Audrey barely had time to turn a bit so her face wasn’t too visible.

  “Okay, here goes nothing.” Audrey kicked the pedal, and the engine roared to life.

  At first she drove very slowly, but she soon got the hang of it. “They’re having a blast,” Mike commented as they watched the motorcycle from behind.

  Yeah, no more reluctant driving. Audrey seemed to be having fun, and she was speeding. Maybe padded jumpsuits were a good idea for all four of them.

  Mike, Con, and Rachel parked in front of the inn. Audrey and the OGs went up the driveway and stopped near the front door, in the spot they had agreed upon that first time. As publicity stunts went, it was very eye-catching. When Con reached them, the old ladies and Aud were chuckling.

  “That was so much fun,” she said, taking off her helmet and helping the grannies unstrap.

  “We told you! You have daredevil genes from your grandma,” Wilma said. “She would be so proud.”

  A man who had been leaning against a tree nearby and who seemed to be paying too much attention to Audrey, walked their way. He was wearing sunglasses and a cap and had a beard. Con frowned. The stranger didn’t look like Andy, who was still in prison by all accounts, but his interest in Audrey seemed suspicious. And he did look familiar somehow.

  “Did you see me? I rocked,” Audrey told Con, smiling wide, totally oblivious to the guy approaching.

  “Finally I find you,” he said to Audrey, who turned white the second she saw him.

  “Matt… What—”

  “Who’s this man, Audrey?” Greta broke in. “Is he a friend of yours?”

  The stranger scoffed and crossed his arms over his chest. “Are you going to explain to your brother what the fuck is going on, Nicky?”

  Chapter Twelve

  Crap. What the frak was her brother doing in Alden?

  “What’s he talking about, Audrey?” Wilma asked, looking back and forth between Audrey and Matt. “Who is this fellow?”

  “He’s my…” Audrey’s mind drew a blank. She looked at Con.

  “Bruh from the hood, right?” Con suggested and nodded toward Matt. “Whassup, bruh?”

  “Yes, exactly. My bruh from the old neighborhood.” Hoping Con’s explanation would lead the OGs astray and confuse them enough to stop them from asking questions, Audrey hugged her stunned brother and whispered in his ear. “Just smile and nod. I’ll explain later. I promise.”

  Kudos to Matt, he kept his mouth shut. Didn’t smile
, though. Then again, he didn’t smile often anyway.

  “Ah, okay. Audrey’s bra is our bra too,” Wilma stated, offering him her hand.

  If the situation hadn’t been so dire, Audrey would have laughed. Matt’s face as he shook Wilma’s hand was indescribable. On the plus side, it looked like they were going to get away with it.

  “Why did he call you Nicky?” Greta asked.

  Fuck. There was that too. “Oh, that. It’s from… Nicky Minaj,” Audrey hurried to say. “Because of my voluptuous bootie.”

  Everyone except Con and Matt nodded in understanding. She didn’t know whether she should feel offended or relieved that everyone agreed with her statement. Then again, people nowadays transferred fat to their behinds and got ass implants to make their booties look bigger, so yeah, she was going to take it as a compliment.

  “Not sure who this Minaj is,” Rebecca added. “I thought it was from Niki Lauda. You know, because you’re a daredevil.”

  Both Wilma and Greta rolled their eyes. “We’ve been telling you for over half a century that NASCAR is the way to go,” Greta chastised her friend.

  Wilma nodded. “Your fixation with Formula 1 and Niki Lauda was never normal.”

  Not really understanding what they were talking about anymore, Audrey smiled feebly, desperate for a way out. “Hmm, would you excuse us? My… bruh and I have lots of catching up to do.” Audrey grabbed Matt by the arm and pulled him toward the cottage. “You guys get that drink you were talking about. We’ll join you later. Or maybe not. I don’t know his plans. He might be in a hurry to go back to the hood.”

  “Just remember, tonight is movie night. Bring your bra,” Rebecca said.

  Mike had been glancing at the sky for a while already, trying not to laugh. “Bruh, Grandma. Bruh.”

  They started arguing, and Audrey hurried away, dragging her brother with her.

  “What the fuck was all that, Nicky?”

  She shushed him. “Not here.”

  Once in the cottage, she closed the door and faced Matt, who was giving her the same look he used to give her when she was a teenager and got caught sneaking out at night.

  “How did you find me?” she asked.

  “Really? How did I find you? Is that with what you want to roll with first?”

  As good as any question at this stage. “I told you I’d contact you.”

  “I know, but imagine my surprise when I saw a picture of Amantis’s tour launch and there, half-hidden in a corner, is my dearly departed sister.” He grabbed his cell and showed it to her.

  Damn. She’d missed one. “Was that published in the press?” Her face wasn’t clear enough to be easily recognized, but still. Getting her mug in the newspapers or on TV would be a bad thing.

  “No. Facebook. It was one of those freaky things when a friend of a friend posts a bunch of pics you scroll over just because you’re fucking bored. Then I did a bit of digging and found out the party had been held in Alden, so I decided to come here and see if anyone remembered you.”

  “You showed my pic around and asked if someone had seen your sister Nicky?” Because there was not a chance in hell she could come up with a believable lie for that.

  Matt gave her another of his patented looks, the “are you dumb?” one. “Of course not. I showed it to the receptionist. She said right away that you were Audrey, the owner of the inn. Care to expand on that?”

  Okay, only the receptionist. Audrey could work with that. “Why did you come looking for me? Didn’t I tell you not to contact me?” she repeated.

  “Yes, and I’ve been doing as you asked for almost a year, sis. Until the cops came knocking at my door not long ago and told me they think you were killed and that the fire wasn’t an accident.”

  “How? Why did they conclude it was murder?” She hadn’t heard anything about that, although it wasn’t as if she could walk into a police station and inquire herself.

  “Apparently, you called the cops from your cell to tell them about some crime being committed? Something about human trafficking? They raided the place and didn’t ask questions about the whistleblower, but something must have changed. When they decided to trace the call and question you, they discovered you ‘died’ in a fire.”

  Of course. And now that fire wasn’t looking as accidental as it had before. “Fuck.”

  “They wanted to know if I knew what you would be doing in that deserted location you called from, and if you had any relationship with the criminal ring.”

  Oh God. “What did you tell them?”

  “What could I tell them, sis? I said I knew nothing, which is totally true. And now, can you fucking explain to me what’s going on?” Matt asked, seemingly running out of patience. And who could blame him?

  Someone knocked at the door. When she opened it, Con walked in. “Everything okay?” he asked, his face weary.

  “Matt, Con. Con, Matt,” she said. “He knows everything,” she added to Matt, who snorted.

  “Great. That makes one of us, because I don’t have a fucking clue. I only know I went to my sister’s funeral while said sister told me she was alive and laying low. Who the fuck did I bury?” Matt roared, coming up to her.

  Con intercepted him. “Back off,” he growled.

  Matt wasn’t a pushover, but Connor had that vibe about him—that scary military vibe. Matt lifted his hands and backed down. Then he narrowed his eyes on her. “Who is this guy?”

  “He’s with me.” She squeezed Con’s forearm softly. “Calm down, honey. Matt would never hurt me. He’s a pain in the ass sometimes, but he’s a great brother.” And most importantly, he did have the right to know who he had buried. “You buried Audrey. I didn’t kill her, but I’m impersonating her.”

  “Your weird college friend? What did you call her, Pudding?” She nodded and he waited for her to elaborate. When she didn’t, he cursed. “Nicky, dammit. I can’t help you if I don’t know what’s going on.”

  “You can’t help me either way. You’re better off not getting involved.” The less he knew, the better.

  Matt sighed, deep and loud, and looked around. “So I’ve been worried sick while you’ve been living the life? Shacking up with this dude, getting cozy with suburban grannies, and attending movie nights in frigging Massachusetts? Not to mention you’re now the owner of an inn. Where the hell did you get money for this?”

  “Savings and bank loans, mainly. Some private loans from unsavory people, but small ones.”

  Both men turned to her at the same time, looking livid. “Loan sharks? You borrowed money from loan sharks?” That was Con, his voice scarily low and hard. “When were you going to tell me about that?”

  “Relax. I still have a week before they’ll come for my kidneys.” She realized too late that her audience wasn’t appreciative of her jokes, so she hurried to explain. “Which they won’t get, because I can cover the payments. I think.”

  “Fantastic,” Matt muttered while Con cursed. Then Matt gestured at Con and continued, “Did he get you into this mess? Is he one of these criminals the police said might be involved in your murder?”

  Con turned to her right away. “Wait a second. What’s this about the police thinking you were murdered? I thought you said they believed you died in an accidental fire.”

  Jeez, one crisis at a time, please. She lifted her hand to Con, asking him to wait. “Of course not, Matt. Con’s been helping. He’s not a criminal.”

  “Helping to do what? Spill it, Nicky.”

  “Why are the police looking into a murder?” Con asked simultaneously.

  With a resigned sigh, she sat down, signaling Matt to explain to Con, which he did. She didn’t know where to begin when it came her turn to come clean to Matt, but Connor must have sensed it, because he did it in her stead. The whole story was a convoluted mess in her head, but he managed to deliver the message in a handful of concise, albeit rather brutal, sentences, after which Matt sagged into the sofa by her side. “Fuck.”

  “My thoug
hts exactly,” she muttered.

  * * *

  Con left Audrey peacefully sleeping in bed and walked to the garden. He had issues sleeping in the best of circumstances. This wasn’t the best. When he reached the pool area, he found Matt lying on a lounger.

  “Problems sleeping?” Con asked as he lay on a lounger next to Audrey’s brother.

  Matt nodded. He was a man of few words too, Connor had noticed. Of course, they hadn’t had the opportunity to talk much. The OGs had come to pick them up shortly after the conversation in the cottage and had stayed around for hours. Then outdoor movie night had happened, a crowded event not really conductive to interrogations, not to mention Audrey had snuggled up to him and leaving her side had been the last thing on his mind. But spending all evening in close proximity had given Con time to assess Audrey’s brother. And it went without saying that Con had run a comprehensive background check on Matt Rubin long ago, the second he found out about Nicky. He was what he appeared to be. A solid guy.

  They lay in silence for a while before Matt spoke. “I always knew Nicky was impulsive, but I didn’t expect her to get into this kind of a mess. About the loan sharks. I couldn’t get the names out of her.”

  “I’m on it.” If She couldn’t cover the sum, Con would. He wasn’t swimming in money, but he’d never spent much of the cash he made in the military.

  “So what’s the plan?” Matt asked. “I mean, does she even have one? She can’t hide forever.”

  “I don’t think there was ever a plan.” Con let out a resigned sigh. It seemed that from the beginning she’d just been reacting, not thinking. Survival mode. “At this point I don’t think the police would believe her. She did break the law. At best she might be offered a plea deal in exchange for information if it leads to the cops catching Andy and the other guys. Those scumbags aren’t the forgiving type. They think she’s dead. Lying low seems to be the best option for the time being.”

  “I found her. They might too.”

  Con asked what he’d been dying to know from the moment Matt appeared, “How did you find her?” Had she called him to tell him her location herself? Had she been that careless?