Total pages in book: 112
Estimated words: 105734 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 529(@200wpm)___ 423(@250wpm)___ 352(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 105734 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 529(@200wpm)___ 423(@250wpm)___ 352(@300wpm)
With no specific agenda in mind, I pull out of the parking garage and onto the street. I’m making decisions with my subconscious mind at this point. Each turn I take is automatic. I’m not considering my final destination.
I find myself on the freeway, going God knows where. I look at the road signs and step on the gas. The highway takes me out of the city, and I feel a modicum of relief at each passing mile.
One exit looks familiar. I know I’ve taken it several times before. It’s the exit for the university where Marlena’s brother goes. I suppose he would be my uncle-in-law, although technically, he’s a few years younger than I am.
Brandon was kidnapped by Carlo Andretti a couple of years ago, and he never really got over it. My father extended his protection, but Brandon didn’t want it. He didn’t want to go on the run either, electing to continue his studies even though he knew it would be dangerous. So far, Andretti has remained underground. Although, of course, he sent that letter to my father indicating that he’s still around and paying attention.
I decide to pop in on Brandon and see how he’s doing. Maybe I can use the excuse that Andretti has resurfaced to explain what I’m doing there. I don’t really want to go into the specifics of my drama with Sofia. I need time to mull over what happened between us before I’m ready to talk with anyone.
I hope Brandon will be home, and not away on vacation or something. I have his phone number and email address, but I hadn’t decided to visit him until now. By the time I pull over to text him, I’ll already be there. So it looks like I’m just going to show up out of the blue and hope for the best.
Brandon has an apartment near campus with three of his friends. I’ve visited twice before, and I know Marlena disapproves. She wishes that Brandon would let my father pay the bills so he could get a nicer place on his own.
Brandon wasn’t exactly polite when he said that he didn’t want my father’s money. He maintains strained relations with our family, even though we all feel like he’s part of our brood. I pull into the parking lot near his building and shut my engine off. Getting out of the car, I stretch. It’s been a three-hour drive and I’m tired and thirsty. At least I’m not focused on the guilt surrounding Sofia. That’s the point of this whole exercise: to forget about her.
I cross the parking lot and enter the building on the left side. There’s an external stairway that goes up to the second floor. I don’t have a key, but there’s a girl coming out at the same moment I’m trying to get in. She holds the door open with a smile, and I give her a friendly nod.
People are so accommodating. That’s something my father likes to stress. Most people don’t realize something illegal is going on until it’s too late. I don’t like to take advantage, but there are certain times when I’m pleased that the general public is so trusting. Now is one of those times.
I walk down the hall to locate Brandon’s door. There’s no buzzer, so I knock and wait patiently while whoever’s inside comes to the door.
“Who is it?” someone asks from the apartment.
“Frankie Corello,” I announce. “I’m Brandon’s in-law.”
“Sure,” the person answers, opening the door. It swings back to reveal a skinny young man in a giant sweatshirt. “I remember you.”
He doesn’t say anything more than that, simply leaves the door open and walks away. I enter cautiously, checking all the corners and hidden places out of habit. I spot one person at the kitchen table staring into a bowl of cereal. There’s another person on the couch in the living room watching TV.
“Brandon?” I ask.
The person watching television raises his hand. It’s hard to see in the apartment since all the blinds are drawn. Someone has taken the added precaution of hanging a sheet over the window, blocking out even more of the sun’s light. The effect is that the place looks like a vampire’s den. Nobody inside is speaking, and there’s a general low level of energy that permeates all the residents.
“Hey,” I respond, moving over to the couch.
Brandon looks up but doesn’t move. “Frankie.”
“Mind if I come in?” I ask even though I’m already inside.
“No, have a seat,” he replies, moving a pizza box out of the way so I can sit down.
I know Brandon is supposed to be working on his degree, but I don’t see a lot of studying going on here. There are no books or computers anywhere in sight. And there’s a smell that lets me know people aren’t cleaning regularly.