Staying On Top(80)

“I am Mr. Bradford’s attorney, but I am retained on your behalf. So, yes.”

My throat hurt, my heart hurt. If I believed I had a soul, it would hurt, too. Sam had walked out of my life without a backward glance, but he hadn’t forgotten me. The wafting scrap of hope that the friendship at the foundation of our time together had survived wrapped around me like the warmth of Sam’s body.

I’d never had a friend before, but it turned out losing one was the pits.

“Sam sent you?” I managed.

“Yes. We’ve arranged your bail, but I’m afraid you won’t be able to leave the country until the charges are resolved.”

“But I’ll be able to leave the building?”

“Yes. It’s the best we can do, but I will continue to work on the charges as long as Mr. Bradford wishes it.”

“What’s your name?” My voice shook. I wasn’t even sure what I was feeling; it was too many things to articulate or pick out at one time.

His face, which had been stern and devoid of emotion, softened. “Renaldo.”

“Renaldo, please tell Sam that this is more than enough. I need to resolve things with my father before I leave the country, anyway.”

“As you wish.” He opened his briefcase and extracted an envelope with my name on the front, sliding it across the table. “You’re free to go.”

“Thank you.” I picked up the letter with weak fingers. It would be a while before I would get up the nerve to read it.

An hour later I’d been given a shower and the clothes that had been stowed in my backpack. I felt better, I smelled better, but part of me was missing. I knew it was Sam’s presence, but there was nothing that could be done to get it back.

It was time to go see my dad. Alone.

*



“Dad, I know you’re watching me on the camera right now. Open the gate or I’m climbing it.”

I stood outside the gates barring strangers from my father’s massive island home. He spent the majority of his time in the Caribbean but only had one house—the Alessandra was his home.

The gates swung open a few seconds later and I hiked up the sandy, stone-covered drive. The circle of green grass in the middle sparkled with spittle from the stone fountain, the burbling sound peaceful in the morning. I was so tired I could sleep for a week, but more than anything I wanted to go back to Whitman. I wanted my stupid, uncomfortable sorority house bed and the sound of Audra grinding her teeth. The idea that Sam might have ratted me out to Quinn, that I might not be welcomed back, made me sick to my stomach.

The front door was unlocked, so I let myself inside. Unlike the houses in Jesenice, Belgrade, and Santorini, this one had been decorated with warm colors, potted plants, and antique furniture. It felt rich and homey even with the ceramic tiled floors that led me onto a patio complete with a table and chairs. Beyond lay a swimming pool in the middle of another expanse of rich, green grass.

“Hello, dear daughter. I must say I’m surprised to see you. And a little impressed.” My father sat at the table dressed in what passed for island wear for him—a loose, pale gray linen suit and a lightweight white shirt. He still had shoes on, but it weirded me out to see him so relaxed.

I shut down all of the emotions that had spilled out of me so readily with Sam, knowing they would work against me in any negotiation with me father. “I got tired of waiting. How long were you planning on leaving me to rot in prison?”

“School’s out for the holidays in less than a week. I figured I could keep you there until January, if that’s what it took to teach you a lesson.”

“Kind of an unnecessary burden on the Cayman economy, don’t you think?”

“I pay them enough for their assistance and discretion.”

I wasn’t surprised the police were at least somewhat under my father’s influence, but I worried how dearly the cap would pay for letting Sam go.

“Well, I guess I’ve picked up a few tricks of my own over the years.”

“Yes, seducing a world-class athlete. Once again, I’m impressed.”

My face felt hot. “I didn’t seduce him, Dad. We’re friends. Were friends, anyway.”

He didn’t answer, leaving me with the impression he didn’t believe me.

“And this friendship is the reason that you did not finish the job? Have I taught you nothing? We don’t make friends, Blair. Because we don’t get to keep them.”

This was it.

I called on the tatters of courage left inside me, the ones planted by Sam’s staunch belief that I could be that girl—the one ready to shake off the life she’d been born into and step into the one she wanted. One full of honesty and, maybe someday, trust.