Black Lies (8 page)

“Negative connotations?”

She glanced over. “Oh—I forgot—you were too young. Sheila Anderson. The little girl who was murdered all those years ago. It was the summer Brant started working all the time. They never found her killer—or her body for that matter. Just…” Her voice faltered. “Just her clothes. Bloody. Not far from here. A few girls disappeared that summer, but she was the first. And… Brant had always had a crush on her. He took it hard. That was around the time… well.” She stopped talking, glancing over my shoulder, the kitchen suddenly smaller as I felt Brant move up behind me, his hand wrapping around my waist and pulling me into his body.

“Mom putting you to work?” He planted a kiss on my head.

“Barely. She was just telling me about—“

“Old memories,” she interrupted. “Thanks for bringing her by, Brant.” Grabbing a hand towel, she wiped at her palms. “It was a pleasure to meet you, Layana.”

I smiled. “Thank you. It was wonderful to meet you both.”

“You leaving?” The large body of Brant’s father closed off the doorway, and the space was suddenly claustrophobic.

“Yes. Thanks.” Brant clapped his father on the back, and we squeezed our way out of the kitchen and made our exit.

I was quiet during the ride home, my mind walking me back through the evening. I wondered at the reasons behind Jillian and Mr. Sharp’s aversion to our relationship. Wondered whether Mrs. Sharp had agreed with her husband, despite her apologies for his statement. Wondered about Sheila Anderson and why Brant didn’t mention that she had died. I could have asked questions. But I didn’t. I looked out the window and thought.

I stuck my head in Brant’s office, his head popping up, hands furious on keys, un-pausing in cadence as he smiled. “This is a nice surprise.”

“Don’t get too excited yet,” I teased, walking around the desk, his fingers keying at a rate faster than humanly possible, his eyes glued to me, his mind capable of more simultaneous action than mine. “I’m kidnapping you.”

“Sounds…” He finished his typing, picking his hands up and swiveling his chair to face my approach, his hands reaching out and pulling me into his lap. “Interesting. Where are we going for this kidnapping?”

I shook my head. “Nope. I’m not telling you that. That’d ruin the fun. How much time do you need before we can go?” I glanced at his computer screens, three side-by-side monitors that each displayed file download progresses.

“I’m yours. Steal me away before Jillian reminds me about the budget meeting that starts in fourteen minutes.”

“Shoot.” I hopped off his lap, snagging my purse off the floor. “Then let me get you out of here.”

“You make me so bad,” he murmured, his eyes dark as he snagged me back for one last kiss.

“Oh yeah,” I giggled. “Skipping budget meetings. You can get fitted for your leather vest now. Stick with me and you’ll be going to bed without flossing. Getting really crazy.”

I pulled him around the desk, peeking out of his door with an exaggerated gesture before turning back and putting a finger to my lips. “Run on three,” I whispered. “One…two…” I opened the door and sprinted.

“Here?” Brant looked out the window at the homes before us, my car settling into a spot out front. “I’ve been here before.”

“At the ribbon cutting. I know. I was there too. That didn’t count. Get out.” I opened my door and stepped out, taking a few steps back and snagging a stuffed unicorn off the lawn.

Brant’s door shut and I looked over to see him, his posture awkward, his eyes sweeping over the compound, five brick homes, a fenced yard connecting them, three kids clustered in the shade of an oak, a dog sniffing the edge of the fence and eyeing us as if wondering whether to attack. Brown eyes hit me and his tail started to wag. I stepped toward the gate and flipped the latch. Squeezed through and squatted, running my hands over the collie. “Hey Buster.” I ran him through his three tricks: sit, shake, and down, glancing over when Brant entered the yard and crouched to our level.

“Buster, huh?” He reached out a hand and tousled the collie’s head.

“Yep. Meet the most loved dog in the Greater Bay area.”

I heard the soft sound of steps seconds before a small body flung through the air, knocking my squatting self back into soft grass.

“Miz Lana!” Hannah, a six-year-old bundle of trouble, squealed as she squeezed my neck tightly enough to restrict air flow.

“Hey sweetie,” I gasped. “Let me up a minute so I can introduce you to someone.” I put a hand on the grass and hoisted us both to standing, flashing a smile at the two other kids, ones I’d never seen but would guess to be a few years older than Hannah, the close press of their bodies indicating a sibling familiarity verified by the twin shocks of red hair both possessed. I readjusted Hannah’s weight until she rested on my hip. “Hannah, this is my friend Mr. Brant.”

“Hi Mister Brant.” She reached a solemn hand out, a hand Brant shook with equal seriousness.

“Nice to meet you Hannah.” Brant’s eyes flipped to mine. Dark and intelligent.

I turned to the others. “You guys must be new. I’m Lana, and this is my friend Brant.”

“I told them all about you,” Hannah said with importance, her dark arms tight around my neck.

“Well… tell me about them then, since you know everything,” I teased.

“This is Samuel and Ann. They’re from Boatland.”

“Oakland,” the boy corrected, glancing at his sister.

I smiled. “Welcome to the house, guys. Which one are you staying in?” The houses were named after states, HYA’s goal to have fifty in the next five years. At the moment, our three-acre estate contained five. We were looking at a lot in Sacramento for more homes, as well as spots in San Jose and Los Angeles.

“Georgia. Though they said we have to split up next month.” Worried glances shot between two faces that were too young to have any concerns other than spilled milk.

“Don’t worry about that.” I readjusted Hannah on my hip, her weight tiring. “By next month you guys will have so many friends here you’ll be begging for time away from each other. And the separation will only be at night. Days and meals are all free-for-alls between homes, so you guys will have lots of time together, should you want it.” I glanced at Brant. “I’ve got to take Mr. Brant inside, but I’ll see you guys again before we leave.” I gently set Hannah down, giving each newbie a big smile before looping my arm through Brant’s and pulling him toward the main house aka HQ, a six thousand square foot structure on the back of the property, where meals were served, sleepovers and movie nights held, and general bedlam occurred all day every day.

“This place is amazing,” he said, glancing at the homes, the basketball court filled with moving bodies, a bevy of girls sprinting around the corner of a nearby house and flying past us.

“It is.” I nodded. “All made possible by your donation.”

“Maybe I should increase it.”

I grinned. “That was, in part, my ulterior motive in bringing you here.”

He paused, his firm hold on my hand bringing me to a stop. “You don’t ever need motives, Lana. Anything you want, anything that makes you happy… just ask.”

“I know.” I tilted my head. “But I figure you might as well see the impact of your money.” I pulled him forward. “Come on. I want to show you the main house.”

We stopped on the third floor deck, an open area scattered with outdoor furniture, a group of girls sunbathing to our right. From its height, you could see the entire campus. “How many kids live in this house?” he asked.

“None. This is the social hub, where everyone eats, plays, and studies. The houses are set up for breakfast and sleeping, little else. That system seems to cut down on temper tantrums over who is in which house.”

“I can’t imagine that the kids would ever want to leave. This place is like summer camp.”

I looked away. “Every kid wants love. To have parents whose focus is on their happiness. We can’t do that for a hundred kids. We try, but we can’t. They’d all leave this in a heartbeat for a chance to feel wanted. Loved.”

“You weren’t?”

I laughed, pushed on his arm. “I was talking about homeless kids, not my parents. My parents gave me everything I ever wanted.”

“Money and presents don’t equal love. I live in a huge house that doesn’t hold a bit of love. I know what empty feels like. It’s one of the reasons why I hate living alone.”

“My parents loved me.” I know the words must be true. Parents love their child. They just choose to show it in different ways. Mine chose to love by expectation.

“I love you.” He stepped closer, his hands settling on my waist. “You, Layana Fairmont, are impossible not to love.”

I scoffed. “You don’t know me enough to love me.” I’ve never been loved. Thirty years old and no man had ever uttered those words. A sad truth. Made possible by the dark lines of my ability to push away every man other than the one who stood before me, pulling me closer, his eyes owning me. This man I pulled closer, had turned over my heart somewhere along the place where I made the valiant effort to try and escape the artificial life plan that was ingrained in my blue blood.

“I love you. Every dark and light piece of you.” He lowered his mouth, but I stopped his kiss, pressing a hand on his chest.

“There’s no kissing on campus,” I whispered. “HYA policy.”

He frowned. “Don’t I hold an office of some sort in this organization?”

“Board president.”

He grinned. “I hereby, and for the next five minutes, strike that rule from the books.” He pulled me closer and pressed his lips to mine, a soft sweet brush of commitment, one that changed, grew more passionate and possessive, his hand moving to cup the back of my head, his mouth sealing the deal, catching my heart as it jumped over the edge of forever.

I loved this man back. Done. My heart was officially toast. When the kiss ended, I told him as much, his mouth taking mine with a final touch that celebrated the occasion.

I heard a gasp from our right and broke our connection. Turned to see Hannah, her brown eyes big as saucers, alarm on her face at our flagrant breach of the rules. She pressed a firm finger to her lips, then made a zipper motion, doing a solemn and careful pantomime of locking her lips and throwing away the key.

Then, her face broke into a grin and she tore off into the house with a squeal.

I pulled up to his house, the entrance lights glowing, illuminating the path as my car pulled forward, sensing the presence of a vehicle, more lights coming on, palm trees and stone coming to life in an orchestration that must have set Brant back a few hundred thousand. I pressed the garage door opener, my bay opening, and I parked. Waited for the door to shut, to stop the cold wind from whooshing in.

I left my shoes just inside, Brant’s level of clean OCD ridiculous. I walked through the silent house, waiting at the base of the stairs; my head tilted, and I listened. No sounds. He was probably downstairs.

I took the elevator, the doors quietly opening to an underground computer lab that rivaled Ironman’s in size and capabilities. His back hunched, bare under the fluorescents, pajama pants the only thing on his tall frame. Straddling a stool, he worked over a pile of wires, a loop on his head, his hands moving quickly, tools lined up beside him in neat order. I settled into the leather chair in the corner of the room. Tugged the blanket off the back of it and wrapped it around my body. Watched him work.

“Hey baby.” He didn’t turn, the clink of tools the only sign of his activity.

“Hey love.”

“I’ll be done soon.”

“Take your time. Mind if I put some music on?”

“Please. I adjusted the play tracks. Let me know what you think.”

I picked up the Laya, Brant’s latest prototype, a tablet that wouldn’t hit markets for another year. Opening the music center, I was instantly impressed. He had done more than adjust play tracks. The layout of the music center was completely different. I chose my mood: lazy. Drawing an abstract sketch with my finger, a lazy swirl with an occasional dot or skip of interest, I clicked play. It knew my touch, recognized fingerprints with the speed of a blink. And, within seconds, it was playing the exact song desired—a song I didn’t even know, but it was exactly what I wanted. Coldplay. The music flowed through speakers hidden along the walls, and I curled into the chair and watched the love of my life.