Reveal

by Bromberg, K.

  I head to the door but look back one more time at her and shake my head.

  She’s here, in my bed, and she didn’t run.

  Maybe we’re getting somewhere.

  And just maybe if I get used to saying those three words in my head enough, one day I’ll be able to say them out loud again when they really matter.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  Vaughn

  “What do you mean, I can’t see her today?”

  I stare at the counselor manning the front desk. She pushes her glasses up her nose and glances back down at the computer screen in front of her. “It says right here that Lucy isn’t able to leave the premises this week.”

  “I don’t—what in the—” I take a deep breath and look at her name tag. “Rachel. Thank you, but there’s been some kind of misunderstanding. I have a regularly scheduled time that I get with my niece. Every week. The same days. The same time. There has to be a misunderstanding.”

  “I’m sorry, Ms. Sanders, but when I pull up her name here, it states there is a hold on her file at this time.”

  Panic bubbles up, hysteria close behind it, and my thoughts struggle to connect. Did they rule that Brian gets custody? Is she being taken from me?

  “Joey. Is Joey working today? He can vouch for me.”

  “Joey is working today, but there is no one able to override the mandate.”

  “Can I talk to him, please?” I ask, knowing full well I could text him myself, but I don’t want to get him in trouble.

  “I’m sorry, but—”

  “Rachel. Please. I just—Lucy gets frantic when her schedule changes. I can tell Joey what he needs to do to calm her.”

  She sighs, and I can tell she’s completely uncomfortable, but thankfully she picks up the phone. “Can Joey come to the front for a moment? I have a question for him.”

  “Thank you,” I tell her as I take a step away from the desk and stand close to the door that I typically walk through without any hassle.

  Each second that passes has my thoughts spinning out of control and my anxiety flying through the roof.

  When Joey enters the lobby, he tenses the minute he sees me. “Let’s go outside for a second,” he says in a lowered voice and places his hand on the small of my back to direct me out the door.

  “What in the hell is going on?” I ask the minute we’re out of earshot from anyone.

  “Vaughn.” I hate the sound of my own name right now.

  “I’m freaking out here, Joey. Why are they not letting me see her? This is my normal time. It’s not like anything has changed.”

  “Everything is fine,” he soothes in a voice that all but tells me to calm the hell down. “I’m not sure what’s going on. It’s the first I’ve heard of it.”

  “Is this normal? Have you seen this happen before?”

  His pause before he responds makes me even more nervous. “It happens occasionally. When there is a contentious custody battle or a counselor feels the child could be in danger.”

  “What did Brian do to her?” Rage courses through me at even the hint of a thought.

  “Nothing. Nothing happened to her.” He holds up his hands to get me to stop jumping to conclusions. “Sometimes orders come down for the child to remain on site.”

  “Why?” I laugh, the nerves getting the best of me. “It’s not like they think I’m going to kidnap her or anything.” And then the minute the words are out of my mouth, I realize that’s what they think. “Wait. Do they—”

  Joey sees it on my face and immediately jumps to react. “No. That’s not it. It’s just—I’ll get answers for you. I’m not supposed to, but I’ll see what I can find out.”

  “Thank you. I just—I—”

  “I know.”

  I drop my head and draw in a big breath to try to steady my shaky nerves before looking back up at him. “Can I at least see her so she knows I didn’t forget her?”

  His shoulders sag. “I’m sorry. I could get fired for allowing it.”

  Christ. Tears burn in my eyes, and my stomach churns as much for me missing her as for her thinking I don’t want to see her. “She’s been through so much, Joey. Some days she still thinks her mom just up and left her instead of died. I can’t have her thinking that I did too.”

  “I’ll smooth it over.”

  “But she has her calendar and she counts the days. She knows this is Tuesday. She knows I take her.”

  “Vaughn. The facility has been more lenient with you seeing her and taking her for overnight stays than they are with most others.”

  I stare at him, feeling completely helpless and hating every damn second of it. “I don’t understand.” My voice breaks, and I press my fingers to my eyes to prevent the tears from spilling over.

  I say I don’t understand.

  But I’m fearing I actually do.

  “Ms. Sanders? What are you doing here?” Priscilla looks tepid as she peeks her head out of the door that separates the offices from the general public and sees me.

  I know damn well that the receptionist told her why I’m here, so I’m not buying her I’m innocent look.

  “Can we talk somewhere?”

  Priscilla’s head startles. “About?”

  “I think this conversation is best suited to privacy,” I explain, “considering I went to see Lucy and was told your office gave them mandates saying that I couldn’t.”

  She exhales. “The conference room, then.”

  I follow behind her as we walk through the cubicles. Heads pop up over the edges like meerkats to see who Priscilla is guiding through their inner sanctum of red tape and bureaucracy.

  The conference room is crammed with a scarred wood table top and eight chairs around a six-chair table. She motions for me to sit and then takes a seat directly across from me, making a show of scooting her chair in and squaring her papers up before clasping her hands over the top of them.

  “I was expecting a phone call from you, but isn’t this a nice surprise. In person.” Her smile is tight, and her eyes behind her glasses look two different sizes, normal size above the frame and rather large through the lens.

  “Why is no one allowed to visit Lucy?” I cut to the chase.

  “It’s in her best interests.” Her voice may be monotone, but her words are like nails on a chalkboard to my ears.

  “How so?”

  “It’s evident there are some . . . issues with both of the candidates for her guardianship.”

  “Issues?”

  She offers a judgmental smile, and I find it hard to swallow all of a sudden. “Sometimes during our lengthy process, things come up that have to be investigated further.”

  “Like how Brian showed up to my house and was high as a kite, offering for me to buy his daughter a few weeks back? Like you actually tested him and it turned up positive? Those kinds of things?”

  “I’m sorry, I’m not at liberty to discuss Lucy’s welfare or potential issues at this time.”

  “Considering I’m a candidate, shouldn’t I be in the know on what’s going on?”

  “As I said, some things aren’t up for discussion. I can’t override orders from the bosses.” Her mouth straightens into a line, and her eyebrows lift as if to ask if we’re done here.

  What does she know? What the hell happened? What the hell is going on here?

  And then in the midst of panic, it hits me: Carter Preston.

  His warning. His threat.

  Oh my God.

  Did he do something? I clasp my hands together to prevent the rage I suddenly feel from shining through.

  “Priscilla.” I pause and force myself to contain my emotions. It’s been a long few weeks—hell, it’s been a long damn year—and before I ruin all chances of being awarded custody, I take a deep breath. “I’m not quite sure what is going on here, but I know it’s not normal. You have a little girl dying to be loved and put in a home where she can be loved unconditionally. Whatever it is that you seem to think you have against me, I assure you it
can be explained.” I hold her gaze and tamp down my anger, forcing my hands to relax instead of fist.

  Time stretches, and defeat hits me harder than ever before.

  “Running a brothel out of your house now, are you?”

  Every single ounce of blood drains from my body in an instant. “Excuse me?” I sputter out the words, the room suddenly sweltering, my head dizzy.

  She lifts an eyebrow. “Four men in one night, Ms. Sanders? Is this a suitable environment for a young, impressionable girl with special needs?”

  I must blink a hundred times as I try to process what it is that she’s saying. “I’m—I’m sorry. I don’t think I understand what you’re talking about?”

  My heartbeat rages in my ears. My breath hurts to draw it in.

  “Well, let’s see. It’s been reported that you went to a charity event with one gentleman. Then you have a male babysitter who didn’t leave your house until the wee hours of the morning. Two different cars sat in front of your house at different times, stayed there for a while, and then parted ways.” She leans back in her chair and crosses her arms over her chest. “A revolving door? Is this really a suitable environment for Lucy?”

  Each word she utters makes my jaw want to drop a little farther open, and when she’s finished, my laugh rings out loud and clear in the stuffy conference room. I can hear the hysteria in it bouncing back to me; I just hope she doesn’t hear it too.

  “This is absolutely ludicrous.”

  “Is it?”

  “I’m sorry, but were you having me followed?”

  “A concerned citizen took it upon themselves to call this suspicious activity in.”

  “A concerned citizen?” Another disbelieving laugh falls from my lips. “At two in the morning a concerned citizen just happened to be watching my house. One who somehow knew my personal business and that I was in the process of trying to adopt my niece?” With each word my voice rises, and my mind zeroes in on the only person who could have done this.

  “Perhaps.”

  “And what? You just believe a random stranger who happened to see something and read into it?”

  “I haven’t heard you deny it.”

  “Are you actually accusing me of being a madam?” I shriek, the irony so lost in my rage of emotion that I don’t even notice. Because even though that’s my job, I never really think of myself that way. “Are you kidding me?”

  I shove my chair back and begin to pace whatever part of the room that I can.

  “Ms. Sanders. Now, I assure you my comment was in gest, but it does lead one to question what was going on at your—”

  “Nothing! Nothing was going on. My friend—who’s gay—invited me to a charity event for the Down Syndrome Advocacy Foundation. His name is Archer Collins. Feel free to look him up and accuse him of buying sex in my house. He’ll sue you faster than you can look up his net worth, and you’ll be laughed out of your job. The man I’m dating stopped by for a bit to wait for me afterward, but I wasn’t home. His name is Ryker Lockhart. I’m sure you can Google him and see he’s not exactly a man who has to pay for sex. Lawyers aren’t in the habit of breaking the law. My babysitter is just that—a babysitter. He stayed late and left when I got home. And . . . the last person?” I scramble for an answer that stays as far away from the senator as possible but won’t make her worried for Lucy. “He was a coworker from Apropos—you know, the club where I work. A group of people were going out partying—hence the limo, to avoid drinking and driving—and they stopped by to see if I wanted to go with them. Are you happy now? No sex. No drugs. But sometimes there’s a little bit of rock and roll.”

  My hands are pressed against the table, my body leaning forward so she has no choice but to see the gravity and anger heavy in my expression.

  “Thank you for the explanation”—she clears her throat—“but I can’t exactly take your words at face value.”

  You’re a miserable human being, I want to scream at her, so frustrated with the unwavering stick up her ass.

  “And why would you decide to attend an event on the one night you have Lucy stay over if being with her is so important to you?” she asks.

  “Because life happens is why,” I say. “Because I can’t exactly change the night of a charity function that in fact benefits her in some way. We spent the entire day together, hours on end. Painting and bike riding and therapy and snuggle time. I left for the function about an hour before her bedtime, and I left her with someone she knows and I trust. Feel free to come at me about being irresponsible, but I assure you not having that night with her would have been even more so, because she needs predictability. A missed or moved day throws her off for some time. You know, kind of like me not getting to see her today will.”

  She purses her lips and squares her papers again, even though they are still perfectly aligned. Anything to abate the unease my explanations are bringing her.

  “Did you ever think that it could possibly be Brian who reported this anonymously? He’s the only person who has anything to gain by trying to paint me in a bad light. Hell, he was probably lighting up down the block, half-high, while he was being a Peeping Tom.”

  I walk back to the conference table and grab my purse so aggressively she jumps with a yelp.

  “The next time I go to see Lucy, this better be cleared up so that I’m not given any trouble. My file better not have a hint of any of this in there either. Remember that man I’m dating? I wasn’t lying when I said he’s a lawyer. Try to taint my image in this adoption process to prevent me from getting Lucy, and I’ll be certain to have it cost you your job.”

  Without another word or waiting for her to close her mouth, I stalk out of the conference room with my body shaking from anger and tears of fury burning my eyes.

  And when I push open the doors to the outside and the fresh air hits my face, I keep walking. Down the street, block after block, and only when my lungs feel like they are burning can I actually breathe again.

  I take huge gulping gasps of air and wonder if I just fucked things up for myself or improved them.

  My anger is focused on everything and everyone.

  At Carter Preston, because who knows if he had anything to do with this interesting scenario, and even if he didn’t, I still hate him anyway. And if he did have something to do with it, then I could be caught in the lie I just told, saying he was a coworker.

  At Brian, because he would have the most to gain out of all this. But if it was him, what a dumb move on his part, because couldn’t I just do the same thing to him in the hopes that I’d catch him using and report him for that?

  At Joey, because he’s the only person who really saw all these people at my house. Was he questioned about the two people vying to be Lucy’s guardians? And if so, did he say something that made Priscilla question everything? Or is he at risk of getting in trouble at his job because he was babysitting for me when he probably isn’t supposed to be?

  At Ryker, because I keep trying to forgive and forget, but each time I feel like I might be able to get to that point, something that is a ripple effect from that night comes up and slaps me in the face.

  And more than anything, I’m furious at myself.

  Sure, I entered into this with the endgame—adopting Lucy—in mind, but what in the hell was I doing thinking I could run an escort business and not get caught? What was I doing in there threatening Priscilla’s job by siccing Ryker on her, let alone telling her that a man like him would never pay for sex?

  Lies.

  Everything is lies, and I feel like I’ve spun so many of them that I can’t keep straight who I’ve told what to.

  At some point these lies will intersect like the crosshairs on a target. All I can hope is that I’m not standing there when they do.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  Ryker

  “Are you having an affair?”

  Bianca Preston makes a sound on the other end of the line that leads me to think she’s offended. “If I were, I’d be
in a lot better mood, now wouldn’t I? I’m thinking I should be offended my attorney asked me that question.”

  “And I’m just wondering why you were in such a rush to hire me on retainer, but there’s not an ounce of urgency to file and serve your husband with divorce papers.”

  I purse my lips and lean back in my chair, my cell at my ear, Bianca’s even breathing filling the silence on the other end of the line.

  “It’s complicated,” she finally says.

  “Divorce typically is.”

  “What’s the rush? Aren’t you getting paid for your time?” she asks, and I want to laugh.

  “It’s hard to bill hours, Bianca, when we’re not doing anything but trying to dig up dirt on Carter.”

  “At least you get to bill for that.” She speaks to me like I should be lucky she’s giving me the time of day, and fuck if it doesn’t irk the hell out of me. “And what have you found? Anything?”

  I think of Stuart’s frustration. The wild-goose chases he’s been on to come up with only rumors and hints of impropriety on Carter’s end but nothing concrete.

  Nothing but the pictures of him with girls who seem to be underage. The same pictures no doubt Vaughn has and that Carter knows she has.

  “Just the pictures I told you about.”

  “Mmm,” she says and falls silent, as one would expect when you find out your husband prefers teenagers over you. “That’s it?”

  “So far.” I start to ask the question, stop, and then figure fuck it. “How exactly does he think he’s going to be nominated for vice president and make it through the entire vetting process without any of that coming out?”

  The question has nagged at me.

  “Perhaps it’s happened only during the last term.”

  Why is she defending him instead of raging about him?

  “He just happened to develop an appetite for underage girls now?”

  “It’s possible.”

  “And what? He thinks he’s Teflon and no one is going to dig up this dirt when we were able to in a matter of days?”

  “He can be very persuasive and convincing.”

  “Either that or he’s planning on paying off a whole lot of people,” I throw out there and am met with radio silence.