Shacking Up(105)

It's the "our date" part that I get stuck on. I haven't spoken to Brittany since I took her to the engagement party. Not once. The fact that she's treating a dinner party-one I'd completely forgotten about, and at which my entire family will be present-as a date is fairly concerning. The picking up where we left off part is another concern. Fuck dinner. I'm not going.

I hope Ruby didn't hear this message. The machine is so old it doesn't register the date or time messages are left.

I continue the hunt for Amalie's phone number, but after another fifteen minutes of searching, I abandon the mission and call Armstrong. I get an answer, finally, but it's Amalie, not Armstrong.



       
         
       
        

"Bane." She says my name as if it's profanity. Or like I really am the epitome of my name.

"I hope I didn't wake you." It doesn't sound like it, despite the early hour.

"You didn't. Armstrong's still sleeping, though."

"I'm calling to speak with you, actually."

"Is that so." Amalie is generally a pleasant, sweet woman. Today she's the opposite: cold and snippy.

"I'm looking for Ruby."

"I can't help you."

Something is really off here. "You can't help me or you won't?" At her silence I sigh. "Do you know where she is?"

"I'm not answering that."

"I got in this afternoon and her room is empty, all of her things are gone."

"What a surprise."

What the fuck did I do to deserve this treatment? "Is she okay? Is she safe? Can you tell me that?"

"She's as okay as she can be."

"What does that mean?"

"She's safe."

Well, that puts my mind at ease a little. "I don't suppose you'd be willing to tell me where I might find her?"

"Probably asleep. In her bed. Or someone else's if she's taken my advice."

"What? I-" Dead air follows before I can get another word out.

What the hell is going on? What could've happened in the days between Ruby ending up in my bed and now that she's up and vanished?

Based on the time of day, she's likely already at the club. Which is exactly where I'm going. I don't bother to change out of my wrinkled suit. I drive my truck instead of Ubering, so I don't have to deal with waiting. A woman I recognize as one of the ladies who was in my living room, scuffing up my hardwood with her heels, greets me at the door of the club.

She props a fist on her hip. "If you're looking for Ruby, she's not here."

She always works on Saturday night, and she's usually here by now. "Is she coming in later?"

She gives me a funny look. "She doesn't work here anymore. I need to get ready. We have a new girl and she's just as clueless as Ruby Tuesday was when I trained her."

She closes the door in my face.

What the fuck is going on? Did she get fired? I'm sure Amalie will have the answer to that. If she wasn't going to be at dinner I would bail simply to avoid Brittany. Now I don't seem to have a choice but to go so I can find out what has happened to change things so drastically in the time I've been gone.

As it is, I arrive nearly half an hour late. My mother is irate. I can tell by the tic in her left eye. 

"Bancroft. You're late," she hisses as I bend down to receive a kiss on the cheek.

"Sorry, Mimi, traffic."

"Everyone else managed to avoid traffic."

"I must've come a different way."

I'm in too bad a mood to be able to placate my mother, and of course I'm assaulted by Brittany the moment I enter the sitting room. She's standing conveniently close to the foyer, so as soon as I cross the threshold she rushes over and throws her arms around my neck.

"Banny!" Her shrill voice makes a shiver run down my spine. She kisses my cheek, then backs up, giggling as she wipes away the lipstick residue. "I'm so glad you could make it. Mimi said your plane landed just a few hours ago. You're such a trooper."

"I got here as quickly as I could," I lie. I take her by the shoulders and step away in an attempt to make it appear as though I'm appreciating her dress. "You look lovely, as always." This is untrue. Much like the other time I was forced into entertaining her, she was dressed like she was ready for a night at the club. And this time her parents are here to witness it.

I feel a prickle at the back of my neck and look up to find Amalie glaring at me from over the rim of her martini glass.

When I'm finally able to make it over to her side of the room, she gives me a tight smile.

"I need to talk to you," I say quietly.

"You have nothing to say that I want to hear," she replies through a plastered on smile and gritted teeth.