There's Beauty in my Flaws by B. B. Grace

Author:B. B. Grace [Grace, B. B.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Independently published
Published: 2020-02-16T22:00:00+00:00

33

My body roused to the demand of my alarm before the sun showed itself through the drapes. I’d ditched the comforter at some point when the sheets had become so saturated with sweat that they started to stick like a second skin. Dreams had kept me from restful sleep, but when I tried to recall them, I couldn’t.

I gulped down a double dose of vitamin C and apologized to my immune system for the inadequate nourishment it had received for several consecutive days. I’d traded my predictive routine for the promise of truth and understanding, replaced scheduled meals for lukewarm afterthoughts, and gained a few sugar pounds from drinking too much liquor.

When I showed up at the office close to eight, a silver Mustang was waiting for me in the parking lot, its windows rolled down, the engine cut. Unfamiliar with the vehicle and its occupant, I stayed in my truck.

A middle-aged man dressed in khaki shorts, a collared shirt, and loafers emerged. He waved and headed in my direction. I cracked my window as he approached the driver side door.

“Mawnin’, miss. I’m looking for someone that works here. Name’s Tally.”

“And you are?” I questioned anonymously, taking note of his accent.

“My apologies. I’m Mah-in Esdan. Not used to making introductions through winduhs.”

He shuffled his hands in his pockets. His dark hair and features were stern, but even a practiced smile and smoothly shaven face couldn’t neutralize his heavy heart. I pushed the door open and stood.

“Tally,” I said, offering my hand. “Nice to properly meet you.”

Martin accepted my handshake warily, his eyes scanning me with inquisition. My phone etiquette suggested that of a suit wearing office assistant well versed in dealing with the public. Clad in a lacey tank-top and faded skinny jeans, Martin voiced his surprise.

“You’re much younguh than I expected.”

I ignored his comment. “What are you doing here?”

“I think you know,” he said, stepping closer.

I took a step back and the truck pushed me from behind. Martin closed the distance.

“I need that 911 call.”

I wondered how long he had been parked there, waiting for me. Rolling the request around in my head, I could hear Vic’s cautionary voice of warning. “For my own protection,” I told Martin, “I don’t know if I can do that.”

“I fig’ed as much.” He rifled through his pocket and produced a small thumb drive. “This is our conversation from last night. For my own protection.”

After searching my face, Martin said, “When I get the 911 call, you get this.”

I stared at him without blinking. He was so close I could taste his cologne.

“Why should I believe you?” I asked him, considering whether he might somehow be involved in his father’s death. “You could have another copy.”

“I could.” He dropped the USB back into his pocket and shrugged. “But I don’t.”

Martin had more reasons to be mistrustful that I did. Besides, Camila needed to pay. The call would give him a shred of hope to keep him going, to keep him digging, to keep him sane.

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