Something True (Joel Bishop Book 2)

by Sabrina Stark

  I gave the safe a closer look. It was dark gray with a classic combination lock. I couldn't be sure, but the safe looked brand new. What it contained, I had no idea.

  Obviously, it belonged to the brothers, but for the life of me, I couldn't figure out what valuables they'd want to secure, or why they'd leave the safe just sitting there, out in the open.

  When they showed up a couple of hours later with yet more pizza, I pointed to the safe and asked, "Is that yours?"

  Steve set the pizza boxes on the nearby counter and said, "Yeah. For now."

  I gave him a perplexed look. "What does that mean?"

  "Eh, nothing," he said. "But leave it there, will ya?"

  I looked to Anthony for a better explanation, but all he said was, "And when he says don't move it, he means don't move it. Like not at all."

  I wasn't exactly thrilled with the idea. "For how long?"

  "As long as it takes," Anthony said.

  "But you're leaving in just a couple of hours."

  "I know," Anthony said. "That's why we're leaving it."

  The more they talked, the less I understood. By now, I should be used to this sort of thing, but I couldn't stop myself from saying, "So you're not taking it with you?"

  Steve gave me a look. "Why would we want it?"

  "Well, it is yours, isn't it?"

  Steve said, "For now."

  And there we were – full circle. Again, I looked to Anthony. "Why shouldn't I move it?"

  He said, "It's sort of fragile."

  "It doesn't look fragile."

  "Well yeah," Anthony said, "I'm not talking about the safe. I'm talking about what's inside the safe."

  I made a forwarding motion with my hand. "Which is…?"

  He grinned. "Fragile."

  Well, I should've seen that coming.

  After several more attempts, I finally gave up. But they didn't. Somehow, they managed to wheedle a promise out of me that I wouldn't touch the safe until they came back for it.

  The promise had barely left my mouth when I thought better of it. "Wait a minute," I said. "When you say you'll come back for it, you do mean in a couple of days when you stop by to pick up backhoe." I gave the safe another glance. "Right?"

  Anthony said, "I don't think it'll be that quick."

  "So you're not picking up the backhoe on Friday?"

  "Oh, we're picking up the backhoe," Anthony said. "But the safe? Eh, it's hard to say."

  I wasn't liking the sound of this. "But you're not going to just leave it on the counter, are you?"

  "Sure we are," Steve said, "where else would we put it?"

  "I don't know," I said. "Maybe in a closet or something?"

  "Nah," Steve said. "A closet's no good."

  I felt my gaze narrow. "It's nothing illegal, is it?"

  "Hell no," Steve said, looking almost insulted. "How dumb do you think we are?"

  "Sorry," I stammered, "it's just that—"

  "If it were illegal," Steve said, "we'd put it in the basement, maybe dig a hole down there or something."

  "Yeah," Anthony agreed, "I mean, we wouldn’t just leave it out here, for anyone to see. You think we're nuts?"

  Choosing to believe this was a rhetorical question, I opened the nearest pizza box and took a slice. Before biting into it, I said, "I don't even have a basement."

  "Sure you do," Steve said. "I can tell by the structure."

  "Well, yeah," I said. "Technically, I guess I do. But it's not like a basement-basement."

  "No kidding?" Anthony said. "What is it?"

  "Well, actually, it's a wine cellar."

  Steve grinned. "No way. You got a wine cellar?" He leaned forward. "Is it just wine? Or beer, too?"

  I gave it some thought. "As far as I know? Just wine."

  Steve was no longer smiling. "Well, that sucks."

  Anthony said, "As far as you know? What does that mean?"

  Briefly, I relayed the story of my wine cellar. Shortly after the death of my parents, Derek's dad had hired a locksmith to secure the door that led to the wine cellar steps. At the time, he'd claimed it was a liability issue, because I'd been under the legal drinking age.

  But looking back, I wasn't sure this was the real reason. After all, Aunt Gina, who'd been my guardian at the time, had been in her thirties. And she did love her wine.

  Then again, maybe that was the problem.

  Before I knew it, we were all standing around the wine cellar door. It was located off a small hallway near my kitchen. The door was made of thick, ancient oak and secured with a much newer lock, which had been drilled a couple of inches above the doorknob.

  Even though I was now weeks past my twenty-first birthday, I still didn't have a key. And given my newly hostile relationship with Derek, I knew the odds of getting one.

  They weren't good.

  Thinking out loud, I said, "Maybe I should call a locksmith."

  "Screw a locksmith," Steve said. "We can get this."

  "You can?" I said. "How?"

  "Like with an ax." He shrugged. "Or maybe a crowbar."

  I was absolutely horrified. "What?"

  "Or," Anthony added, "there's always a chainsaw. You got one?"

  "No," I said. "And even if I did, I wouldn’t let you use it."

  "Why not?" Anthony asked.

  "Because I don't want the door destroyed. I just want it opened."

  Steve gave me an annoyed look. "Now, you tell us?"

  "I shouldn't have to tell you."

  "That's what you think," Steve said, looking distinctly disgruntled. "If you change your mind, let us know."

  I wasn't going to change my mind, and I told them so in no uncertain terms. But I did make a mental note to ask Derek about it, assuming I was unlucky enough to see him in the near future.

  As it turned out, I did see him, early the next morning after being summoned to his family's law firm for an emergency meeting. But what happened there was so shocking that I completely forgot to ask about the wine cellar – or anything else for that matter.

  Chapter 41

  It was seven in the morning, and I'd just walked into the law firm. I'd slept terribly the night before, and was barely awake, much less ready to take on Derek and his dad.

  I was greeted at the front desk by a receptionist who I'd never seen before and then ushered into their nicest conference room. She said, "Mister Mitchell will be with you in a few moments."

  "Wait," I said, "Which Mister Mitchell? The father or the son?"

  She looked surprised by the question. "The son, of course."

  I wasn't sure why she'd be surprised. But then again, I still had no idea why we were meeting at all. I only knew that it was supposedly urgent.

  I said, "Did he say what the meeting was about?"

  "I'm sorry. I'm just the receptionist." She gave me a smile that looked a little tense. "I'll let him know you're here."

  The whole situation was unnerving to say the least. I'd been summoned to this meeting not by Derek, but by his dad, who had called last night and insisted that it was important.

  And yet, the guy wasn't even going to be here?

  Even as the thought hit me, I reminded myself that probably, this was a good thing. Dealing with the son was bad enough.

  I'd been sitting there alone for almost fifteen minutes when my cell phone rang. I pulled it out and took a look.

  It was my aunt Vivian – the one I loathed. I had no idea why she'd be calling me so early, but I did know that I'd rather deal with her now than later. Besides, what else was I going to do while waiting for Derek?

  When I answered the call, she said in a tightly controlled voice, "I suppose you think you're funny."

  I frowned. "What do you mean?"

  "Don't play dumb with me," she snapped. "I know exactly what you want."

  "Well, that makes one of us."

  "Oh, so you want me to lose my temper? Is that it? You want a nice big laugh at my expense? Well let me tell you something, missy. I'm
not going to give you the satisfaction. But I will say this. I was wearing my favorite dress, and now it's ruined. So, go ahead. Laugh it up. It won't be so funny when you get the bill."

  I sighed. Not this again.

  I heard my uncle say, "And don't forget my suit."

  My aunt hissed back, "Like she'd care about your suit. The little snot doesn't care about anything."

  Well, that was nice. Apparently, the little snot was me. To think, all along, I'd been a lot nicer to Aunt Vivian than she ever deserved. I said, "Oh, I care, alright."

  My aunt paused. "Pardon?"

  "Yeah." My voice rose. "I care about you staying out of my house. So you got a little wet. Big deal. It happens to all of us, right?"

  She gave a little gasp. "Wet? It was more than wet! It was disgusting!"

  So much for not losing her temper. "Oh come on," I said. "You're blowing this way out of proportion."

  "You think so, huh? Well, let me tell you something, you little snot. You might think you're clever now, but you're paying for it. And I don't mean for the dry-cleaning."

  I almost laughed. "I’m not paying for anything."

  "Oh, yes you are. And you know what? I want new shoes, too."

  In the background, my uncle said, "Don't forget my shoes."

  My aunt yelled back, "Forget your shoes! Mine were Jimmy Choos!"

  My uncle said, "You mean the guy in our bridge club?"

  "Oh, for God's sake," my aunt hissed. "That's Jimmy Woo. The banker." Under her breath, she muttered, "Oh, forget it." Returning to the phone, she said, "So when you get the bill, I suggest you pay it, pronto."

  And with that, she hung up.

  That was fine by me. She could rant all she wanted. I couldn’t – and wouldn't – be paying for her shoes.

  Cripes, I could barely afford cheap shoes for myself, much less shoes for someone else, especially the kind that would set me back a small fortune. I was just tucking my phone back into my purse when something made me pause.

  It was the sound of music – violins maybe? – coming from somewhere down the hall. As I listened, it became louder, until a moment later, the conference door swung open, and a trio of musicians playing – yup, violins – sauntered into the room, followed by Derek, holding a bouquet of red roses.

  As they all approached, I eyed them with growing trepidation. I didn't know what exactly was going on, but I did know that I wanted no part of it.

  Chapter 42

  Already, I was on my feet. Ignoring the musicians, I looked to Derek and said, "What's going on?"

  His face was pale, and his eyes were red-rimmed around the edges, like he'd just gotten off a two-day bender. He took a deep breath and said, "I'm proposing."

  My mouth fell open. "What?"

  He looked to the musicians, who were still playing. I didn't recognize the tune, but it was slow and obviously intended to be romantic.

  It didn't sound romantic to me, not under the current circumstances. It sounded more like the soundtrack to a horror movie, starring myself – because I was horrified.

  I eyed the door to the conference room. If I bolted now, would they all chase after me? Cripes, if they kept on playing, we could form our own little parade.

  But before I could make any such move, Derek dropped to one knee, pulled out a small black box, and opened it up to reveal a massive diamond engagement ring. He visibly swallowed before saying, "So, will you marry me?"

  I stared down at him. "No."

  Instantly, the music stopped, ending on a jumble of notes that didn't quite mesh.

  Into the silence, Derek said, "Are you sure?"

  "Of course, I'm sure." I made a sound of frustration. "Now, will you please stand up?" I looked to the musicians, who were now making a point to look at anything but us. I cleared my throat. "That was really nice, but, um, would you mind giving us some privacy?"

  I didn't have to ask twice. They practically bolted for the door, carrying their now-silent instruments with them, I looked back to Derek. He was still on one knee, and he was still holding the ring box. In his other hand were the roses, gripped loosely, as if he'd forgotten they were there.

  He wasn't getting up. Instead, he took another deep breath and said, "Just listen. We've always been good friends, right?"

  "Not lately," I muttered.

  "And if we get married," he continued, "we'll be even better friends. And just think, your money problems, they'd be gone. We could fix up your house, and do whatever you wanted." He gave me a smile that looked half-crazed. "Wouldn't that be nice?"

  If I'd been hoping for words of love – which happily, I wasn't – I would've been sadly disappointed.

  Nowhere in my wildest dreams, did I ever envision getting a marriage proposal that centered around finances and home-improvement projects.

  I couldn't help but compare all of this to Joel's proposal – so raw and wonderful, right there in the open doorway to my house. There'd been no violins or flowers, or even a ring. But it was a million times better than this.

  Joel's proposal had touched my heart. Even at the time, with everything else going on, I could clearly see the love in Joel's eyes – a love he must've seen mirrored in my own.

  But with Derek, I had no idea what I was seeing. I didn't even know why he was doing this. No matter how I sliced it, it was pretty obvious that something was terribly off.

  I squinted at his face. "Have you been drinking?"

  "No."

  I leaned a little closer. "You are such a liar."

  "Alright, fine," he said. "So I've been drinking. Big deal. A guy has to get up a certain amount of nerve to propose, you know."

  Well, that was sexy.

  "Yeah," I said, "especially when he doesn't want to."

  "What's that supposed to mean?"

  I had a theory. And the more I thought about it, the more it made sense. I said, "Your dad made you do this, didn't he?"

  "What?" Derek gave an awkward laugh. "No."

  Sure, he didn't. I gave Derek a pleading look. "Will you please stand up?"

  "Not 'til you say yes."

  "Well then you'll be kneeling there forever," I said, "because the answer isn't just a no. It's a hell no. And you know what?"

  "What?"

  "Somewhere, in that thick skull of yours, you're doing a little happy dance, because you don't want to marry me any more than I want to marry you. Just admit it."

  But he didn't admit it. Instead, he launched into another marriage sales pitch. This one centered on uniting our two families like our parents had always wanted.

  What a crock. My parents had mentioned no such thing, at least not to me. And even if they had wanted this, so what? I knew for a fact that they'd want me to be happy. And there was no way on Earth I'd be happy with Derek.

  Besides, he wouldn’t be happy with me either.

  If this were a genuine proposal from someone who truly loved me, I'd feel terrible saying no. But all I felt now was pure annoyance.

  I said, "Get up."

  "No."

  I looked at him for a long moment. Part of me – an evil, twisted part of me – wanted to kick him in the face. But instead, I stepped around him, grabbed my purse off the table, and stalked toward the conference room door.

  When I passed through it and turned toward the reception area, I spotted a silver-haired man – Derek's dad – poking his head out of a nearby office. At the sight me, he flashed a hearty smile and said, "So, are congratulations in order?"

  What an asshole.

  "No," I said, and kept on walking, passing him without another word. Stalking past the reception desk, I saw the musicians milling around, as if waiting to be called in for an encore. Or who knows, maybe they were just waiting for their check.

  Either way, I was done with the whole scene. As I drove back to my house, I considered my theory – that Derek's dad had been behind the whole thing.

  The more I thought about it, the more I decided I'd been right. In that case, Derek owed me a
huge favor.

  Someday, maybe I'd collect. But for now, all I wanted was strong black coffee and a dozen chocolate donuts. But in my kitchen, I found no donuts – even though I'd picked up a couple dozen yesterday – and the only coffee I had was decaf.

  Deciding it was better than nothing, I made a pot anyway and stood in the kitchen waiting for it to finish brewing. While waiting, I happened to glance around and noticed something that made me curse for a whole new reason.

  The safe – the one the brothers had left – it was missing.

  Holding my empty coffee cup, I stared down at the bare counter-top, where the safe should've been. I tried to think. When was the last time I'd seen it? Last night? Or was it yesterday morning?

  I couldn’t be sure either way. But it was definitely gone.

  I squeezed my eyes shut and tried to think. The timing was awful. As luck would have it – meaning bad luck – the brothers were planning to swing by later this afternoon to pick up the backhoe and take it to the other side of the state.

  I still had no idea what the safe contained, but I did know that the brothers had been adamant about it not being moved. Now, it wasn't just moved. It was gone entirely.

  I wasn't looking forward to telling them. Deciding I'd rather tell them in person than on the phone, I waited nervously for them to show up. I wasn't sure when they were coming, but I prayed it would be soon, only to get this over with.

  It was nearly four o'clock when my doorbell finally rang.

  But when I went to answer it, it wasn't the brothers at all. It was their sister, Luna.

  Chapter 43

  Standing in the open doorway, I glanced around. I saw no sign of her brothers, just her. I said, "Uh, hi."

  She gave me a sunny smile. "Hi."

  For some reason, I felt almost awkward. It's not that I was unhappy to see her. In fact, I owed her, big-time, for the help with the sewer. And yet, I wasn't blind to the fact that she lived on the other side of the state, so there had to be a particular reason for this visit.

  Given my luck lately, I didn't want to speculate. With more than a little trepidation, I stepped aside and said, "Would you like to come in?"

  "Sure, if you don't mind." And then, as if sensing my nervousness, she added, "I'm meeting my brothers here. They did tell you that? Right?"