Page 30 of So I'll Know
But can I just be his friend?
I sigh as I zip up my suitcase and haul it out of my bedroom, checking the bus schedule. It’s two buses and about eight hours to get to the Oregon coast, but it’s not like I don’t have time. I could borrow Tris’s car and drive, but I hate traveling all that way by myself.
I stop in the kitchen to refill my water bottle just as T jumps onto the top of my suitcase and meows loudly.
“I’m sorry, bud.” I scratch under his chin. “I’ll just be gone for a few days.” He meows again, louder this time. I roll my eyes. “Don’t start. Marion will be over to feed you and clean the litter box. You love Marion.”
He cocks his head, unimpressed.
I pick him up and press my face into his soft fur. I feel some of my anxiety ease as he wiggles indignantly against my embrace. I set him on the floor and pick up my water bottle. Then I grab my teal messenger bag, sling it over my shoulder, and walk out the door.
“Bye, T!” I call, letting it close behind me.
I maneuver my suitcase down the narrow hallway. The wheel catches on the stupid hot dog rug, and I yank it free with an annoyed huff. Because I always feel stupid lugging a big suitcase down the street, I call an Uber. The inside smells like Pine-Sol and mint, and it makes me queazy, but thankfully, it’s not long before the guy pulls up to the curb in the back of the pub. The three-story red brick building is perched on a steep hill, so the front door is actually on the street below, and patrons will have to climb a staircase after entering to reach the dining room.
I stare at the back door for a long minute, thinking about the past few days. Marcus and I definitely need to talk about where we stand if I’m going to keep working on this job. Our tension is so obvious that Tris keeps tiptoeing around us like “mommy and daddy are fighting,” as he puts it. I’m not sure if I’m the mom or the dad in his scenario.
I thank the driver as I get out and walk to the pub entrance to unlock the door.
“Hello.”
I startle at the deep voice behind me, and I drop my phone, which lands face down on the concrete. I grab it and wipe it onmy jeans, then turn around to come face-to-face with an older man. He has slicked-back blond hair and is wearing a perfectly tailored, very expensive-looking suit and dark sunglasses. He looks familiar, but I can’t immediately place him.
“H-hi.” I take a step back toward the pub and position my suitcase between us. His whole demeanor makes my skin crawl. Behind him is a black SUV with tinted windows. The whole combination is giving murderyMen in Blackvibes.
“Do you work here?”
“I, uh, yes, I do. The owner hired me.” I lick my dry lips. “Can I help you with something?”
He studies me like he’s trying to figure something out. “I’m actually looking for someone. He hasn’t been returning my calls, and his father is worried, what with it being Thanksgiving and all, so I wanted to make sure he’s okay.” He gives me a reptilian smile. “But it sounds like you work for him. Marcus Conner?”
My gut is still telling me this guy is bad news. “Yes, I know Marcus. But I don’t know where he is. I’m sorry.”
“Do you think you could let me in? I’m just so worried.”
I give a confused squint and resist the urge to drop my hand to my waist. “Who are you?”
“Oh, how rude of me.” The man extends his hand. “I’m Ryan Michaels. I’m a close personal friend of the family.”
I stare at his hand and give him a wary look. “Sorry, I need to pass on the handshake.” I shrug apologetically. “Germaphobe.”
He lowers his hand, a hint of a sneer on his face.
“Have you tried his condo?” I ask, inching backward toward the door.
“No, I haven’t. Do you have his address?” His eyebrows raise like he’s hopeful.
“You’re a close personal family friend and you don’t know where Marcus lives?”
He shakes his head again, staring at me intently. Alarm bells start going off in my head. I creep slowly backward until myback hits the door. I hope he can’t sense my unease while I hurriedly unlock it. “I’m sorry, I don’t.” I give him a small wave over my shoulder. “It was nice to meet you, Mr. Michaels.”
“Are you sure I can’t just?—”
“I’m sorry, but it’s not my building, so I can’t let you in. You understand.” I grab my suitcase and close the door firmly behind me, locking it.
What the fuck was that all about? And where’s Marcus?
I take a deep breath and start down the hallway, typing a quick text to Marcus. But as I walk past the storage room, someone grabs my collar and hauls me into the darkened space.
