Brandt started dialing the number from the answering machine. It was terrible that he was thinking of his sister in that way. Unlike him, she was a good student, a hard worker, and someone who did what she was supposed to do and did it right the first time. If she said she’d run out of money for school, then she’d run out of money for school, and there was no other excuse to go with it. The phone rang several times before there was a click, and the same voice from the answering machine spoke from the other end of the line.
“Hello?”
“Dr. Rivers?” Brandt asked. “This is Michael Evans. You called me and left a message on my machine?”
“Ah, yes, Mr. Evans. Olivia’s brother. How are you doing today?”
Brandt tossed the first thing that had come to mind, a comment about being hung over, and decided to keep it obscenely pleasant. “I’m doing fine.”
“That’s good. Listen, I was wondering if you would be available to meet with me this evening to discuss Olivia and her future at Emory?”
Brandt almost told him no. His plans for the evening involved eating dinner with Olivia—and he still needed to figure out what he was going to cook—and going bar-hopping again so he could get away from the too-quiet interior of his house. But that damn curiosity of his ate at him, not to mention his concern over what Olivia had gotten herself involved with. “Yeah, sure. I’ve got dinner plans, but maybe we can meet up for a drink or something afterward?”
“Sounds fine to me. I have an evening class to teach. Eight o’clock okay with you?”
“Just fine,” Brandt said. Dr. Rivers gave him an address to a bar that he was vaguely familiar with but had never been to, and they hung up. He turned his attention to his more immediate needs: figuring out what the hell to cook his sister for dinner.
Later that evening, he and Olivia sat down to roast beef and instant mashed potatoes, Brandt’s low effort Crock Pot specialty.
“I’m going to go to the bank in the morning and see if there’s anything they can arrange to help you out with your tuition,” he said.
Olivia glanced up from her plate with a wide-eyed look. “You will? Really?” she asked. There was hope in her voice, and that was enough to cement his decision.
“Yeah, I will,” he said. “I figure, if anything, it’s worth a shot, right? Maybe I can see about taking out a personal loan, and you can worry about paying me back when you’re some big shot doctor chick.”
Olivia grinned at him and hopped out of her chair, circling the small two-seater dining table and flinging her arms around his neck in a tight hug. “Oh, thank you, thank you, Michael!”
“No need to thank me, sweets,” Brandt said, though he wrapped his arms around her and returned the hug. “I would hope you’d do the same for me if I ever found myself in the same situation.” She let go of him to return to her seat, her face glowing with excitement. “Then again, I have no intentions, and no hope, of getting into medical school, so I don’t think you have much to worry about there.”
Olivia laughed softly. “I’ve been thinking about specializing,” she said.
“Oh yeah? In what?” Brandt asked, scooping a forkful of mashed potatoes into his mouth.
“Epidemiology,” she answered. “I’ve been enjoying my virology classes. They’re so much more fascinating than I thought they’d be. Dr. Rivers thinks I’m a natural in the subject. He said he can see me working at the CDC one day.”
“Lord knows you’re smart enough,” Brandt said. “I bet you’d blow them all away.” He toyed with his tea glass, took a sip, then added, “Speaking of Dr. Rivers, I talked to him on the phone earlier.”
“About what?” Olivia asked, sounding intrigued.
Brandt shrugged. “Nothing much, really. He wants me to meet with him this evening around eight in a bar.”
Olivia snorted. “Hey, at least he already has a sense for what your natural habitat is,” she joked. “In all seriousness, what does he want to meet with you about?”
“I have no idea,” he said. “He didn’t go into detail. I’m sure he’s planning on doing that this evening, though. I’ll give you a call as soon as I know something.”
“Oh please, please,” Olivia begged. “If I don’t hear something from you, I think I’ll go nuts worrying that it’s something bad.”
Brandt laughed. “Livvy, seriously, is it even humanly possible for you to get in trouble?” he asked. “I don’t think you’ve ever been in trouble at school in your entire career as a student.”
Olivia laughed with him. “You’ve got a point there,” she said. “I always was accused of being a goody two shoes.”
“Clearly, Adam Ant wrote that song all about you,” Brandt joked, taking a bite of roast beef before grinning at his sister across the table.
Olivia was silent for several long minutes, eating her dinner. She finished and pushed her plate away. “What are you planning to do this evening after your meeting with Dr. Rivers? You’re not going to try for a repeat of last night, are you?” Brandt hesitated, and Olivia’s face grew hard. She slammed her fork down onto the table beside her plate and pushed away from the table. “Fine. Whatever. Turn into an alcoholic louse and see if I care.” She stood up abruptly and started to gather her things, shrugging her coat on.
Brandt stood, starting to circle around the table toward her, trying to figure out how everything had gone to hell so quickly. “Olivia, I—”
“Don’t even, Michael,” Olivia said. “I ask you to do one thing for me, one thing. All I want is for you to, I don’t know, take care of yourself! I don’t like seeing you going out all the time and getting drunk and putting yourself at risk of getting hurt!”
“Why do you even care what I do with my life, Olivia?” Brandt demanded, his anger flaring up and already starting to get the better of him. “I’m almost forty! If I want to go out and get drunk every evening of my life, then that’s my problem!”
“I care because you’re my brother!” Olivia yelled. “I know we lost Mom and Dad and you lost Devon, and I know that that hurts—”
“Don’t you dare bring him into this,” Brandt snarled as his sister invoked his deceased son’s name. Olivia plunged ahead.
“—but you’re all I have left, and I can’t handle losing you too!”
Silence fell between them, silence that was punctuated only by the soft, choking sounds of Olivia trying to hold back tears. Brandt stared at her as she fought to not cry. This was the point where he was supposed to say something, where he was supposed to reassure her that he wasn’t going to go out and get drunk, that he wouldn’t do anything that would put him in danger so she wouldn’t have to receive another one of those phone calls like she had the day their parents had died. The words wouldn’t come. She looked at him with ill-concealed fury and spun on her heel, jerking on her jacket the rest of the way as she stormed out the front door and slammed it closed behind her.
Chapter 3
It had taken Brandt a full hour after his sister had left the house and he’d recovered from their argument to track down where he’d left his truck the night before. He’d finally located it in a parking garage near the Hard Rock Café and had to pay an exorbitant amount in parking fees to exit the garage. He now sat at the exit, waiting for the one-way traffic to clear up enough for him to pull out into it, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel and thinking about what had happened at dinner.
He’d really blown it with Olivia, and he still wasn’t sure what he’d done to get her hackles up. Sure, there was her fussing about his drinking, but what red-blooded American man didn’t drink? It wasn’t like he was drinking to excess—at least, not often. He felt like he was playing catch-up with his life and the things he’d missed out on as a younger man. It wasn’t his fault Olivia didn’t approve of his lifestyle.
When he pulled his truck into the street, he glanced at the scrap of paper in the passenger seat to double-check the address where he was supposed to meet Dr. Rivers. It wasn’t too far from where he was. C
hecking the clock on the dash and seeing that it was almost time to meet the man, he started in that direction, figuring it’d be wise to be on time for something for once in his life.
The bar Brandt walked into ten minutes before his meeting with Dr. Rivers immediately made him feel out of place and underdressed. He glanced down at his wrinkled, dirty jeans, his rumpled t-shirt, and his leather jacket and wondered if it was too late to go home and change his clothes. But there wasn’t enough time; the bar’s hostess was already approaching him, her blue eyes sweeping over him from head to toe. She was a pretty woman, maybe in her late twenties, with thick blonde hair swept into an updo, her long, slim legs emerging from the short hemline of a slinky black dress. She had a menu in her hand, and she gave him a smile that revealed perfectly straight, white teeth. She didn’t appear to mind the fact that he was dressed in grunge-wear in an upscale bar whose patrons wore suits and dresses.
“Evening, sir,” she greeted. Judging by the gleam in her eyes, she liked what she saw. “What can I help you with this evening?”
Brandt looked her up and down in a manner similar to what she’d done to him, trying to imagine her in bed with him. It wasn’t hard; she was a beautiful woman, and she was clearly interested in him. However, he couldn’t let his mind wander in that direction. There would be time for that later. First, he had important business to attend to. Mustering a smile, he said, “I’m supposed to meet a Dr. Rivers. Do you know if he’s here yet?”
The woman went back to the hostess stand and looked at the book on it, then nodded and beckoned to him. “Right this way,” she said, smiling and slipping out in front of him. She led him through the bar, sliding around tables, swaying her hips enticingly. Not that that was necessary: she’d already gotten his attention. She stopped beside a table close to the bar and indicated the man already sitting at it with a sweep of her hand. “Dr. Rivers, your guest is here.”
Dr. Rivers was nothing like the image Brandt had built in his mind based off his voice on the telephone. He’d pictured an older man, a thirty-plus year veteran of the classroom, with hunched shoulders, white hair, and glasses. The only thing he’d gotten right was the glasses. Olivia’s professor was a slender, well-built black man not much older than he was. If he had to guess, he’d place Dr. Rivers in his early fifties, and when he stood and offered Brandt his hand, Brandt discovered that he met the man eye-to-eye. Dr. Rivers gave him a warm, welcoming smile as they grasped hands and shook.
“Michael, I’m so glad you could make it,” Dr. Rivers said, motioning to the chair across from him. When Brandt sat, the pretty blonde hostess moved away, casting a last glance at him as she returned to her hostess stand near the door. “Olivia speaks so highly of you. It’s good to finally put a face to the name.”
“She talks about you a good bit too,” Brandt said. He shifted on the chair, trying to get more comfortable. The little wooden seat felt absurdly fragile, and he had the irrational paranoia that he was going to break it. He wasn’t a big guy, but he was by no means small. Rather, he was strong and muscular, and even with his drinking, he’d still managed to maintain the physique he’d built up during active duty. He refocused on the doctor and decided to get right to the point.
“Dr. Rivers—”
“Please, call me Derek.”
“Derek,” Brandt conceded, “I have to be honest. I don’t understand why you asked me to meet you here. As far as I’m aware, Olivia’s grades are all fine. Is she in some kind of trouble that I need to be aware of?”
“Not trouble, per se,” Derek said. He lifted a hand to flag down a waitress. “You want a drink? My treat.”
“Rum and Coke,” Brandt said automatically. “I have a feeling I’m going to need it.”
“Probably so,” Derek said. He put in an order of bourbon for himself and then turned his attention back to Brandt. He rested his elbows against the table and scrutinized him for a moment, his dark eyes scanning Brandt up and down as if he were trying to assess what sort of person he was outside of what Olivia had told him. Brandt fought to not squirm like a kid in the principal’s office under the man’s gaze. Apparently satisfied with what he saw, Derek sat back. “She’s not in trouble with her grades or in her classes, but I fear her educational opportunity may be in danger.”
“Yeah, she mentioned that her financial aid had run out,” Brandt said.
“Am I right in assuming your family doesn’t have the funds to assist with the high costs of Olivia’s tuition?” Derek pressed. His eyes lit up as he leaned forward again, awaiting Brandt’s response.
“Dr.—Derek,” Brandt said, pausing while the waitress delivered their drinks. He picked his glass up and took a sip of his drink. “It’s just Olivia and me. There is no ‘family.’ And there’s certainly no money, you’re right about that. My income is my military benefits, and it’s enough for me to live off of. I don’t have much wiggle room in my budget, certainly not for something as expensive as tuition.”
Derek nodded slowly, as if that were the answer he’d expected, and Brandt had to wonder just how much, and what, Olivia had told the man about him, her, their family, and their financial situation. The thought of her spilling his dirty laundry to one of her professors made him grind his teeth together, but he put the feeling aside for now and focused on what the doctor was saying to him. “It would be a shame if she were to have to drop out due to financial problems,” he said. “She is, and I say this with all sincerity, one of the most brilliant students I have ever had the pleasure of teaching in the seventeen years I’ve handled Emory’s virology courses. She’s a true natural in the subject.”
Despite his irritation with the idea of Olivia waving around his business, Brandt felt himself warm with pride at Derek’s words. He knew his sister was intelligent. He had recognized that when she was young and doing things like teaching herself how to read when she was three. It felt good hearing what he’d always known from someone with an outside perspective.
“Yeah, she’s always been really smart. I don’t want her to have to drop out if I can help it.”
“Understandable,” Derek said. “I don’t want her to drop out either. Which is why I wanted to meet with you. Do you have any particular plans to help her find a way to stay enrolled at Emory?”
Brandt shifted in his seat and took a deep gulp of his drink. He wasn’t sure how comfortable he was with talking details about his finances with someone who he didn’t know. But Olivia’s probably already told him, Brandt reminded himself. And this is her future we’re talking about. When it came to his sister, there was nothing he wouldn’t do for her.
“I’m going to go by a bank or two in the morning and see if I can take out a personal loan to make up the difference,” he said.
“Do you think you’re going to have any problems with getting one?” Derek asked.
Brandt had a feeling he probably would. His credit score wasn’t good enough for a major loan, especially since the economy was in the shitter. Hell, he could barely even get a credit card with a workable credit limit on it. But Derek didn’t need to know that much. “I think it’ll work out fine,” he said, trying to sound confident, though he didn’t feel it.
There was silence between them for a few minutes while they each nursed their drinks. He stared into his glass and tried to figure out where to go with the conversation. He still wasn’t sure why his sister’s professor wanted to meet with him, and though he was curious about the “opportunity” the doctor had alluded to on the phone, he wasn’t sure how best to broach the subject. He drank a sip of rum and Coke and swished it around in his mouth, considering his words before speaking.
“So, not to be rude, but is there a reason you asked me to meet you here, besides to tell me some stuff about my sister that I already know?”
Derek set his empty glass down and signaled for the waitress again. “Actually, yes, but let me get a refill before I dive into it.” After the waitress brought him a fresh drink, he pulled a sheet of paper out of the
bag hanging from the back of his chair, sliding it across the table to rest in front of him. Brandt looked at the paper and raised his eyebrows when he saw the words “Non-Disclosure Agreement” printed across the top of the sheet.
“What’s this?” Brandt asked, leaning closer to read the smaller print below it.
“I’ll need you to sign it before I can explain,” Derek said. He held out a pen in offering, but Brandt didn’t take it right away.
“Seriously, what in the world does a college virology professor have to tell me that requires me to sign an NDA?” Brandt asked forcefully. He pushed the paper a few inches away from him. “If you can’t tell me what’s going on without me signing this paper, then I don’t think it’s something I want any involvement in.”
“Answer me this, Michael,” Derek said, resting his hands against the sheet. “Do you have a backup plan in case your loan applications get rejected?”
Brandt hesitated again, looking from Derek’s face to the paper and back again. He shook his head. “No, I don’t,” he said, his voice low.
Derek tapped his finger against the paper and slid it across the table to him again. “This is your ticket to a backup plan,” he said. “I’m offering it to you, but I can’t tell you what it is unless you sign this paper.”
Brandt stared at the paper again, but he didn’t see the words printed on it. Instead, he saw the image of his younger sister, her brown eyes bright with excitement and her face alight with hope, and he could almost feel her arms wrapped around him in a hug all over again. He snatched the pen out of Derek’s hand and scrawled “Michael Evans” across the signature line on the NDA. Then he looked the doctor in the face and said, simply, “Tell me.”
Derek set his glass of bourbon down and shifted in his seat, looking at him across the table with more seriousness than he’d seen on another person’s face in quite some time. He took the NDA and stuffed it into his bag with barely a glance.
“Teaching virology courses at Emory is not my primary job. It’s just what I do when I’m not busy with my other duties at my day job.”
Origins (The Becoming Book 6) Page 2