Page 14 of Real Sexy
Boone
Anthonyand I are turning down the driveway at my place, trying to come up with a strategy based on all the shit the lawyers have told me, when he slams on the brakes to avoid running into a rusted Javelin parked in front of the gate.
“What the hell?”Anthony says.
“It’s Ripley.Let her in.”
“No shit.”
Anthony hits a remote hooked to the visor and the gate swings open.He gives the horn a double tap, indicating that she should go first, and Ripley’s car lurches forward in a way that makes me think her transmission is about to die.
Logan Brantley could make that car purr like a kitten and growl like a bitch, just like he did for my 442.
We follow Ripley up the drive, and she parks off to the side of the garage when Anthony pulls inside.I’m out of the SUV in less than two seconds.
After the pictures of Amber and me hit the Internet, I knew there was a chance Ripley might bail.Most people don’t stop to ask questions with that shit; they just jump to conclusions and assume the worst.
But not my girl.She’s better than that.
I catch sight of her as she climbs out of the Javelin and shuts the door.
Maybe I’m wrong.Her face is pale and drawn, and the dark circles under her eyes tell me she didn’t sleep last night.
Maybe she was worried about me?I told her to stay at my place, but obviously she didn’t, and now she looks like she’d rather be anywhere else.
But Ripley’s not looking at me.She’s looking at the SUV behind me ...as if expecting someone else to follow.
She glances at the ground and then back to the car door again, and that’s when it hits me.She’s waiting for Amber to get out.
“Just you and me and Anthony, sugar,” I say, answering her unspoken question.
I know she wants to ask where Amber is, but I’m way more interested in what brought Ripley to my gate if she expected to find me back with my ex.She’s not spitting fire, so an ass-ripping doesn’t appear to be the answer.
Still, she doesn’t speak, and standing twenty feet away from her while she’s hugging something to her chest and looking broken and lost is more than I can take.I cross the pavement and am about to pull her into my arms when she holds something out in front of her like a shield.Or an offering.
A laptop.
“I have proof.”
“What?”
“Proof that you didn’t touch Brandy and someone else did.”
I look at the laptop and then up at her face.“How?”
“I installed security cameras at the bar.Just some cheap DIY ones that send the feeds to a server offsite, and I can watch it on my computer.Brandy didn’t know.Pop didn’t know.Just me.I wanted to catch her hand in the till so I knew where all my profits were going.”
“No shit.”Anthony says the words on a breath of relief.
“You need to see this.Give it to the cops.They’ll have to drop the charges.She can’t lie about it anymore.”
“Does she know you have this?”
This question also comes from Anthony because I’m too busy studying all the features of Ripley’s face, trying to figure out why she’s doing this if she expected Amber to get out of the car behind me.
Ripley shakes her head.“No.She doesn’t have a clue.”
“That’s a goddamned miracle.”
