Page 35 of Elijah’s Whim

Chapter Nine

Elijah

“It’s called priapism,” Grant informed me with an unsettling air of authority given the topic of discussion.

“Do I even want to know why that just rolled off your tongue so easily?” I looked to my best friend with trepidation.

We walked into Sebastian’s office side by side, and Grant wrapped up our conversation with one last comment. “Are you forgetting who followed a married woman around like a love-sick puppy for…shit…I don’t even remember how long?”

I held my hand up to stop him from elaborating. “Enough said, man.”

Shark wrapped up his phone call and pointed toward the ceiling. Grant and I fell in step with him, and the three of us walked down the hall to the elevator that carried us up to the roof. This had become our new safe meeting place since the incident at the Abstract kitchen.

Somehow, video footage was taken of Hannah inside the walk-in cooler and immediately sent to her cell phone. The end of the video had still shots of Grant while he was held captive spliced into the feed. When we swept the kitchen for surveillance equipment, we couldn’t find a single candy sprinkle out of place.

“Whooaa, dude, look at this! When did you do this?” Grant was like a kid on Christmas morning with the exuberance in his voice and delight on his face.

“Bas, you really outdid yourself here. Or did Abbi pull this together?” I asked, appreciating the new patio furniture, pergola, and outdoor dining set that sat in place of the old, dilapidated set that basically fell to pieces the last time we met up here.

Of course, Sebastian had to play it cool. But I caught the little grin that slipped out from behind his carefully controlled veneer.

Putting his stoic mask back in place, he said, “Actually, I enlisted Pia to do the honors. You know that woman never says no to a decorating opportunity. Especially when she has her big brother’s credit card funding the project.”

And that was when he let his genuine smile and radiant pride show completely. Bas was always the first one to sing the praises of his sister, Cassiopeia. Her accomplishments were as good as his own when it came to prideful displays. So he had the honor of leading us to the seating area to show off our new, unofficial, outdoor meeting space.

“Thanks for doing this, man. That other set had definitely seen better days,” I said to Sebastian after we all got comfortable on the sofa and love seat.

When Bas didn’t respond, I followed his glare across the seating group to where Grant was getting situated on the cushion of the love seat and looking like he was about to put his feet on the table in front of him.

“Dude—” was all I had a chance to say before Bas’s growl reached Grant.

“I swear to all things that are holy, Twombley. If your fucking feet touch that table—”

“Oh, here we go again.” Grant threw his hands up in frustration. “Are you fucking kidding me with this shit, Shark? We’re out-fucking-doors. Birds and mice are going to shit on this table in the next twenty-four hours, and you’re worried about my twelve-hundred-dollar loafers.”

“All right, boys, that’s enough. Let’s get down to business.” I pointedly raked my gaze down Grant’s long legs to his feet. “I thought those were new. Nice choice, man.” I nodded a few times before saying, “I know we all have full schedules, so let’s talk while we can.”

Grant sat up to his full height and leaned forward to rest his elbows on his knees. “Is there any news from any of our sources on the douchebags who kidnapped me?” My friend shook his head in what seemed like disgust with himself. “Fuck…that sounds so ridiculous saying that. I’m fucking six and a half feet tall and weigh two hundred fifty pounds. How the hell do you get kidnapped at that size?”

“Don’t take this the wrong way, my brother,” I said. “Are you still seeing Dr. Shomberg?”

Grant laughed, but it was a forced sound that pained my heart as much as my ears to hear. “Yeah, man, can’t you tell?”

This particular therapist had come highly recommended in dealing with patients with PTSD and abductions. At the time, I thought it was unbelievable that there were that many cases similar in nature to Grant’s that a psychologist could narrow the focus of their practice to just that cross section of the population.

“Give it time. Don’t forget we’re here for you, okay?” I offered, and neither Bas nor I spoke again until Grant acknowledged it.

“I know, I know. And I appreciate it. I’m hoping if we can just make some headway in finding them, it will help me get over some of this.” Grant gripped the back of his neck in frustration.

Surprisingly, Bas asked, “Are you still having the nightmares?” He usually just listened to the conversation and added his opinion or information when directly asked for it. He hadn’t admitted it to me, but I had a suspicion he felt somewhat responsible for what had happened to our best friend. We all knew who the real target of this bullshit was.

Him.

“Nah, thank God. It’s just been those two. The first one when I attacked Rio, and the other one when I fell out of bed trying to fight off my dream captors. The doctor gave me a prescription sleep aid, but I’m not a fan. I was so groggy in the morning. I just don’t want to take it if I don’t have to.”

“All right,” I said, ready to move on to the next topic. “There are some growing concerns with Hannah.”

“Banks,” Grant said with a mischievous grin playing at his lips, “I already explained to you downstairs. It’s a known medical condition—”