Entrapment

by Aleatha Romig

  Was it bad to long for some familiarity? This stranger wasn’t Pat’s fault; the car and driver belonged to Aunt Gwen and Uncle Preston. More tears squeezed from my closing eyes as I longed for Isaac or Clayton.

  “Sir?” the unnamed driver asked.

  “Is there an ice cream shop around here? I can’t remember.”

  “Yes, sir, on Broughton.”

  I stared at Pat and shook my head. “No, we need to get back. You don’t know how they get.”

  “Leopold’s!” Patrick exclaimed. “I haven’t been there… well, in years.” Enthusiasm twinkled in his light brown eyes. “Come on, cuz. That’s better than the DQ we used to get when we escaped the manor.”

  “I-I can’t.”

  Ignoring my protest, Patrick informed the driver to circle back to Leopold’s, closed the screen, and pulled the phone I’d been granted just the day before from his pocket. Swiping the screen, he put the phone to his ear. “No, this is Patrick again.”

  I couldn’t make out what Bryce was saying, yet without words his displeasure emanated from the phone to the car. The prospect of ice cream or any other food became even less appealing.

  “Of course she’s here,” Pat said, “but before I hand her the phone, we both wanted you to know we’ll be a little bit late… We’re stopping for ice cream.” Patrick rolled his eyes at whatever Bryce said. “Nope. Not a problem.” His responses came separated by short breaks. “Sure, but she’s upset about Aunt Adelaide, make it worse and I’ll…” Pat smiled “No, a promise.”

  His self-assured merriment was contagious, making my cheeks rise as I took the phone.

  “Alexandria?” With one word, my glimmer of cheerfulness was gone.

  “Bryce.”

  “Ice cream? Mother says there’s a list of things to get ready for the party.”

  I sighed. “That’s what the staff is for. She simply needs to tell Jane and it will be taken care of. Pat is determined to cheer me up.”

  “Cheer you up? What happened? How’s your mom? Is she talking more today?”

  Shit! I hadn’t even asked Pat.

  “Is she talking?”

  Pat shook his head, his smile fading.

  “Yes,” Bryce confirmed. “You were there, weren’t you?”

  “Of course I was there. No, she’s not talking, but she’s calm.” I said the last part hoping I was right. Pat nodded to confirm.

  “This is all very stressful.”

  “You think?” I asked impudently.

  “You don’t need to be out all day. Come—”

  I sat taller, my eyes on Pat. “You’re welcome to your opinion, Bryce, but I’m not asking and neither was Patrick.” The words gave my self-esteem a much-needed boost while at the same time planting a seed of dread. The shifts in his demeanor were difficult to predict. Nevertheless, I persevered. “We’ll be back after ice cream. Instead of being upset, be happy that I’m keeping you informed.”

  “Really? Do you think I don’t know where you are and where you’ve been?”

  My stomach dropped.

  “I’m sure you’re getting up-to-the-minute reports.”

  “Since you don’t need my permission, let me give you my advice: get back to the manor before your father.”

  My jaw clenched. “I’ll take that into consideration. Goodbye.” Before he could respond, I hit the red button and shoved the phone back in my purse. Laying my head back on the seat, I let out a long sigh as I closed my eyes.

  Barely an hour earlier I was coming undone with the man I love, and now I was back in the madhouse that was now my life.

  “I knew I was right,” Patrick said, shaking his head.

  “About what?”

  “Everything. You need a break, more than my gift, though I do wonder why you didn’t have a smile ear to ear when we picked you up.”

  Ignoring the subject of Nox, I asked, “How was my mom?”

  His shoulder rose and fell. “I don’t have anything to compare it to. The nurse said she’s better. They couldn’t give me much information, but they said she was better.”

  “I should have gone. Now I won’t see her until tomorrow.”

  He reached for my hand. “Sweetie, you couldn’t do anything for her. Despite the fact that you still look forlorn, you needed that break.” His eyes widened. “You haven’t lost him, you can’t. Girl, that man loves you.”

  I shook my head. “I hope I don’t. I love him too… I’m not marrying Bryce.” Saying the words reminded me of the ring. I’d slip it on later.

  “The road, tomorrow night?” Patrick asked.

  “You know about that?”

  “Yes, it was my idea.”

  “It’s at least fifteen minutes. I don’t know…”

  Pat winked. “Girl, Cy and I are ready to take the heat. We’ll be the life of the party. Your engagement may be a big deal, but a Fitzgerald officially coming out with all of Savannah watching.” He waved me off. “Honey, I’m sorry, but you’re going to be halfway down the society page. My man and I will have top billing.”

  “You want that?”

  “Why the hell not? I don’t care how our relationship started. Cy and I are real. Mom has accepted it, and Dad can speak civilly to Cy. It’s a start. What better place to make all the rumors true than Montague Manor?”

  He said Montague Manor as if it was a famous Broadway playhouse and they’d be center stage. I leaned closer and gave him a hug. “I love you.”

  “Yeah, I know,” he said with a kiss to my forehead.

  “You really do smell divine. I need the name of your cologne.”

  “And have that man of yours wear it? No way. He’s got the tall, dark genetic thing happening. Let me have something.”

  As the car pulled along the curb, a glimmer of hope sprang to life, lighting a spark to my otherwise dark outlook. I used to love this shop. Leopold’s had been in Savannah as long as I could remember and decades before.

  Coming here had been my treat when I was young. Jane would bring me, letting me choose my favorite flavor. If it wasn’t too hot outside, she even let me get a cone. The memories warmed my heart.

  I took in the historic shop. Just like everything else in Savannah, it was exactly the same, from the red scrolled Leopold’s Ice Cream sign to the old brick facade and large glass windows. As the driver opened the door, I caught a glimpse of the line of patrons, waiting their turn for the premium ice cream.

  I stilled. “Seriously, Pat, I don’t have time for this.”

  He nudged me with his shoulder. “I helped satisfy one need. Now let’s take care of putting some more meat on your bones.”

  As we found our place in line, I whispered, “Nox said something about that.”

  “What?”

  “He said I needed to get back to his cook’s dinners.”

  Pat scanned me up and down. “Honey, you’re beautiful, but they’re killing you slowly. Not even slowly. You’ve been with them, what, a week?”

  I nodded. “It seems like forever.”

  Step by step we moved forward. It took a few minutes before we were under the awning and out of the direct sun. As if finding solitude in the shade, Pat leaned close. “Talk to me.”

  “About what?”

  My most innocent Southern-belle voice did nothing to stop Patrick’s brow from furrowing. “How about we start with the meltdown in the car?”

  “I’d rather talk about flavors.”

  “Oh, girl, you’ve always been vanilla.”

  I used to be. I tilted my head to the side. “Not anymore.”

  “There,” he said, “look at that beautiful smile. Whatever dirty thoughts are going through your head, keep them on repeat. I like seeing you smile.”

  With the scent of sugar filling my senses, we inched forward, reminding my stomach that I enjoyed the simpler things in life, like ice cream and talking to a friend. “I’m sorry for the meltdown. It’s not like me, but I’m not me. It doesn’t make sense, but being with Nox…” I closed my li
ps and scanned the restaurant. Speaking softer, I went on, “…being with him for even a short time reminded me of who I am when I’m with him, and I miss her. I hate the person I am here.

  “I’m on edge. I can’t trust anyone.”

  “Hey?”

  “Okay, only Jane…” I winked. “…and you. And what’s the deal with Aunt Gwen? Does she know your plan… did she know?”

  Pat shook his head. “Apparently my mother’s not a fan of your future mother-in-law. It goes way back. Mom didn’t spill the dirt, but I have my suspicions. When I told her I wanted to get you away from the wicked witch for a little while, she asked how she could help.”

  “Hmm. I wonder what happened?” I scrunched my nose. “I get the feeling Suzanna’s after Alton. It seems like she’s stepped in as his best friend and confidant. It pisses me off. She’s supposed to be my momma’s best friend, but since I’ve been back, she hasn’t been to the hospital once.”

  “Has Uncle Alton?”

  “Twice. Once when we met with the doctor. The other time he just showed up. I’m not sure if it was for her or just verifying that I was where I was supposed to be. He should have known. Normally I lead a damn parade.” I looked around as we stepped to the counter. “I feel kind of vulnerable without the usual shadows.”

  “We lost them. Once they’d figured out where you’d gone—to Magnolia Woods—Mrs. Witt called and we left.”

  At the sound of Deloris’s name, I turned toward Pat in disbelief.

  “Can I take your order?” asked the girl at the counter, interrupting our conversation.

  Scanning the cases, I whispered to Pat, “I should probably get yogurt.”

  “Because?”

  I opened my eyes wide. “I have a wedding dress to fit into.”

  He shook his head. “Live dangerously.”

  “Believe me, I am.” I turned to the young lady. “I can’t decide between chocolate raspberry swirl and coffee chocolate chip. Which do you recommend?”

  Before she could respond, Patrick said, “Give her a scoop of each and put some hot fudge on top. I’ll take two scoops of Rum Bisque with caramel sauce on mine.” He looked at me and grinned. “Oh, and add whipped cream and two bottles of water.”

  A few minutes later we were seated near the back of the shop amongst the picture-lined walls.

  “Deloris helped with this afternoon?” I asked.

  “Helped? She provided your alibi.”

  “My alibi?” I nearly hummed at the divine sweetness melting on my tongue.

  “Wrong word,” he corrected. “Because you don’t need one. Somehow she hacked the cameras at Magnolia and spliced in images of you from before. We were never in a frame at the same time, but somehow it looks like you were there.”

  I sighed, leaning back. “I was worried about that. But don’t you think this is a bit ridiculous?”

  He tilted his head. “Have you really chosen a wedding dress? You can’t do that without your man of honor.”

  “I told Suzanna I wanted you, but she nixed it.”

  “Wait a minute? Whose wedding is this anyway?”

  “Since I don’t want it to be mine, it feels like hers.”

  “I know Mr. Good-looking’s plan to free the princess. Tell me yours.”

  “My plan is to get my mother better. If that means I have to play along until Christmas Eve, then so be it.”

  “I don’t want you with that jerk—within his grasp for that long. I say you find another plan. Listen to your Prince Charming. Get out now.”

  “He told me once that he was no Prince Charming.” I shrugged. “He’s offered to steal Momma. To take her to someplace else for treatment.”

  “Well, I don’t know the official definition of a Prince Charming, but I’d suspect he comes pretty close. That man is a keeper.”

  I pursed my lips as I dug my spoon into the frozen goodness and freed a piece of chocolate.

  “Tell me what that was…” He waved his spoon toward me. “…that face.”

  “I didn’t make a face.”

  “You most certainly did. What did he do?” He leaned closer and widened his eyes. “Is it kinky?”

  “No.” My indignation rose. “It was deceitful. And I shouldn’t tell… but fuck it.” I kept my words hushed, but they came out with more vigor. “Infidelity is the worst-kept secret.”

  “Don’t tell me he wants out of your agreement. He knows you don’t really want—”

  “No, nothing like that. He… well, Deloris… Chelsea…”

  Patrick shook his head. “The way that girl just sat there by you, after she’s been all over your fiancé… tsk-tsk.”

  “It isn’t how it looks. We’ve made up. I was mad, but now I know what happened. And after this afternoon, I know who’s responsible.”

  “For her messing around behind your back for years? And you were so worried about her.”

  “No. It’s an act. She’s Bryce’s cover for the whole Melissa thing. He’ll probably be cleared of her disappearance because of Chelsea.”

  “And you’re okay with that?”

  I shrugged. “There are too many pieces to this puzzle to get upset about one or two. I don’t know that he is responsible. I also can’t say he isn’t.”

  “But the fact he’s using your friend as his cover? You’re okay with that?”

  I didn’t answer as I plopped the chocolate chunk between my lips.

  “Just like your momma,” Pat said.

  “What do you mean?”

  He lowered his voice. “You know my mother would never say, but I think the reason she doesn’t like Miss Suzanna is because of what you said… Uncle Alton. Mom hinted that it’s been mighty convenient for him, and either your mom’s been blind, clueless, or she doesn’t give a shit. Either way, my mom thinks Miss Suzanna is a whore.” He shrugged. “It’ll be history repeating itself. Just like Uncle Alton, Spence will have a wife and her best friend—his own whore.”

  I laid the spoon down on the table and covered my stomach. “Jeez, Pat, I think I’m going to be sick. Besides, I’m not sure that could be true.

  “I shouldn’t say, but I learned that someone who works closely with Alton is also employed by Infidelity. I doubt he’s that virile.” I shook my head, freeing another piece of chocolate. “It’s as if the employees are everywhere and I’ve never noticed.”

  “I think they are. I don’t think it’s as unusual as I’d first thought. But it doesn’t matter. You’re not going through with this. You’re meeting Mr. Good-looking Saturday night and blowing this popsicle stand.”

  “It’s an ice-cream shop and I’m afraid it won’t be that easy. I’m not leaving without both Momma and Chelsea.”

  “I get your mom, but why do you even—”

  “Because they set her up. She’s not Bryce’s cover because she wants to be. She’s his cover because he bought her agreement.”

  It took a second, maybe two, but Patrick’s spoon clanked to the table and his eyes grew two sizes. “Are you shitting me?”

  I shook my head. “I told you, they’re everywhere. And the bad part is that Deloris talked her into it. Chelsea’s never had money. I’m sure the interview payment alone was more money than she’s ever had at one time. Now she’s been here for a few months.” The whole thing made me sick.

  “Why would Deloris send her here? Was it to spy on your family?”

  “Nox said Chelsea wasn’t supposed to go to Bryce, but to someone else and somehow the plan was messed up. And now she needs out.”

  Patrick sighed. “There’s no out, not for a year.”

  “Yes there is… one.”

  Once again his brown eyes narrowed. “If you’re fucking serious, I’m taking you back to the hotel. You’re done with that scumbag.”

  “I’m serious, but I can’t help Chelsea from the hotel. I can at Montague.”

  “I’m here for you. You say the word and I’ll give him some of his own.”

  I smiled, taking in Patrick’s physi
que. “I think you could.”

  “Oh, little cousin, I could, and more importantly, I would.”

  LEAVING PATRICK IN the limousine was like walking in the final steps of a condemned man. It was that scene, the one in all the movies: the long corridor, flanked by shadows and impending doom. As I entered Montague Manor, the entire setting was there, all the way to the eerie lighting and hushed background voices. As they came into range, the voices sparked both recognition and curiosity.

  Though the foyer was empty, the voices alerted me that I’d exceeded Bryce’s deadline.

  A booming laugh followed by deep male retorts confirmed that my stepfather was home.

  Curiosity was a strange thing. My brain told me to go up to my room, shower, and prepare for dinner. However, my feet followed the sounds and voices as if taking me to answers I may not otherwise find.

  The door to Alton’s office was closed; nevertheless, I stilled near its threshold. The room beyond was quiet. The voices were coming from farther within the manor. I followed the corridor as it opened to a bright sitting room near the back of the house. It was the same room where Alton and Momma had taken my trust fund. The pristine windows glowed with the orange of the remaining early evening sunlight. The storm last night had cleared the air, literally. The sky was sapphire blue, cleared of moisture, except for the pink and purple of the impending sunset swirling near the horizon.

  “That’s the best news I’ve heard in months.”

  Alton’s voice coming from the den refocused my mission. The doors were ajar. Was it an invitation or a trap?

  “Mr. Fitzgerald, I wouldn’t have missed this. Thank you for including me.”

  I turned the corner, needing to see the face of the man speaking. Like old recordings or songs, I tried to fit the voice with a name. I’d heard it before. I just couldn’t place it. I stepped through the open doorway.

  “Alexandria,” Alton said, his gray eyes narrowing my direction. “I trust your excursion was worth it?”

  A lump formed in my throat as I considered his dual meaning. At the same time, the gentleman turned, a tumbler of amber liquid in his grasp.

  “Miss Collins?”

  The temperature of the room rose. “Senator Carroll?”

  “Doyle, you know my daughter?”