30 Days (Lost Love Trilogy #1) - Belle Brooks Page 0,57
Grady, what’s there to know about you?”
“Not much, I’m afraid,” he answers before gulping a mouthful of water.
“Surely that’s not the truth.”
Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep.
“Where’s that sound coming from?” I ask, looking around the quaint restaurant.
“That would be my mobile phone. Would you please excuse me?”
“Sure.”
Standing abruptly, he reaches into his pants pocket before answering. “Hello. Yes, sir.”
I watch the entry door open and then close before he’s no longer in view. Is it Marcus on the line with Grady? He did say, yes, sir. If it is, the both of us should probably hightail it out of here before I get this nice driver fired.
“May I get the bill, please?” I manage to get the attention of a tall and curvy waitress.
“Good evening. Yes, of course. I’ll get that for you right away. Did you enjoy your meal?” she asks politely.
“Very much so. It was delicious.”
“Lovely.” She scurries off.
Life has no limits or boundaries … There are no right or wrong decisions to be made, only differing paths to take on one’s journey.
As each word of the quote that’s written on a blue and white canvas by the bar floods my mind, I wonder if it’s true. Are we just taking differing paths? If you’re cursed, does that mean one’s life is limited with boundaries?
I think deeply about the statement before I’m interrupted by a frazzled Grady, who grabs my clutch from the table and hands it to me with force. Mumbling through a clenched jaw words I cannot understand, his arms flail.
“Grady, slow down, what’s the problem?”
“We have to go now,” he orders.
“Marcus?” I frown, standing.
“Yes, Abigail, Mr Klein is not happy with us.”
“It was Marcus on the phone, I knew it.”
He nods.
“And you told him we were out, didn’t you?”
He nods again.
“Why would you do that?”
“Because he’s my boss. It’s my job to tell him. I’m going to pay this bill. Wait here.”
“You’re a shitty secret-keeper, Grady. Shitty,” I say, loudly, at his back as he storms off. “Geez, Louise,” I mumble, marching to the door, swinging it open before stepping firmly onto the footpath. Brisk air rushes over my bare arms, and the bottom of the dress I’m wearing rustles around my knees. I’m so mad I can hear my pulse thudding in my head. Who the hell does Marcus think he is? Better still, who the hell is he?
Finding myself camouflaged with the many people using the footpath, I shuffle into the pack. I’ve no idea where I’m going, but the more I walk the calmer I become. Opening my clutch, I locate my phone. If anybody is going to know who Marcus Klein is, it’s my mother.
The phone only rings twice before it’s answered.
“Hello, petal. How are you liking Sydney?” Her tone is relaxed.
“Sydney … well, it’s big, quite fancy, and a little on the cooler side at night from my observations so far.”
She half laughs. “I see. How’s the job going?”
“Different.”
“Different good or different bad?”
“I’m not sure yet. Hey, Mum?”
“Yes, petal.”
“Do you know a Marcus Klein?” The line goes silent. I hear Mum breathing quickly. “Mum?” There’s no answer. “Mum, are you okay?”
“Yes, I’m fine. I just thought I heard someone knocking at the front door. I got a bit of a fright.” She’s lying, I can always tell when she’s lying. “Nobody’s there of course. I guess my ears are playing tricks on me. Sorry, what did you say?” Her tone changes from relaxed to tense.
“Seriously, are you okay?” You liar.
“Yes, petal. Now what did you say?”
“I said, do you know a Marcus Klein, or have you ever heard me talk about him?”
“No, darling, never. Why are you asking?”
“No reason really. Just the name came up recently, and I thought I’d heard it before, like I’ve met him or someone has said it.”
“Well, not that I know of, anyway.” All lies. “Maybe he’s a serial killer from one of the investigation shows we watch … you know how those names stick in one’s mind.”
“You are dramatic,” I sing through a tensed jaw. She knows something and she’s not saying what. Serial killer show, sure, Mum, whatever.
“Must be where you get it from.”
“Probably.” I say. “Well, I guess I don’t know him then.”
“Names, faces, people—sometimes it feels like we know them, but we don’t. If I were you, I’d never think of that name again.”
“That’s an odd thing to say.” So odd it confirms all my previous thoughts.
“Abigail, I’m just saying it’s probably a name you’ve heard somewhere before, but as far as