Total pages in book: 99
Estimated words: 97369 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 487(@200wpm)___ 389(@250wpm)___ 325(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 97369 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 487(@200wpm)___ 389(@250wpm)___ 325(@300wpm)
“What was she like? I don’t feel like I remember much.”
“Mom?”
I nod.
Baylor steers his truck with one hand while holding his energy drink in his other hand. Three candy apple air fresheners hang from his rearview mirror. They don’t smell like candy or apples. “She worked a lot. When she was in a good mood, she was in the best mood. When she was not in a good mood, she didn’t get out of bed. And she missed you—her baby. The money didn’t matter. Hell, I knew nothing about the money until after she died.”
“What?”
He shrugs. “Yup. Apparently, she didn’t want to touch it. She felt too guilty. So Rosa and I split it. She went to med school, and I invested my share, so I don’t have to live in the middle of nowhere forever.”
I don’t know how to respond. It’s … tragic.
“What about you? What was it like growing up with a billionaire?”
I stare out the window and grunt. “Overrated.”
“After she died, I spent more time with my dad. He’s a veterinarian. Rosa’s dad owns a restaurant in San Antonio now. Had Mom not died, I wonder how many more of us there would be?” He laughs.
“Because she never settled down with one man?”
“Well, sure. I suppose that too.” He shoots me a quick side glance. “She was uh … an escort. You knew that, right?”
What?
“Our names. You were conceived in a private jet over the state of Indiana. I’m the hometown boy from Waco. She never explained why I was conceived at a university neither she nor my dad attended, and I didn’t ask. I was too busy thanking the good Lord that my name isn’t Waco.” Baylor chuckles. “And Rosa was a New Mexico conception in Santa Rosa. Supposedly it was a scuba diving getaway.”
In the next moment, I snort. Then I do it again, doubling over in a fit of laughter—the crazy kind.
“What did I miss?” Baylor asks.
I shake my head, wiping the tears from my eyes while gasping for breath. “Oh … oh my gosh …” My stomach hurts from laughing so hard. “I’m …” More giggles escape. “I’m the million-dollar baby of the devil and his whore.”
Baylor clears his throat. “We don’t call her that. I mean, she was a pretty good mom.”
“Sorry.” I wipe my eyes. “I didn’t get to see much of that side of her. Children are supposed to be priceless. I had a price.”
“To be fair, I think he held a lot over her head, and the money was just the final nudge to get her to walk away.”
Of course, Fletcher held something over her head.
I simmer into sadness, no longer feeling the effects of my temporary nostalgia. And for the rest of the way, I remain silent.
“Will I see you again? Rosa would love to see you too.”
I start to open my door when he parks his truck outside my apartment building. And I can’t help but wonder if Lincoln’s been looking for me. Has he contacted the police?
“I’d like that.”
“No phone?” he asks.
I frown. “Not at the moment.”
“Well…” he reaches for his glovebox and pulls out a pen, scrawling his number onto a torn-off piece of a fast-food bag and handing it to me “…this is me. Call me when whatever’s going on with you gets settled. Okay? And I hope I don’t get in trouble with that big guy for not taking you to the airport.”
I nod. “Thank you. I’m sure you’ll be fine.” I give him a second glance before closing the door. There are so many things I want to say and questions to ask, but now, I can only focus on Milo, wondering if I’ll ever see him again.
Wondering if he’s alive.
“Your rent’s late,” my landlord says, opening her creaking door. Her apartment smells like something’s burning.
Grilled cheese.
“I was abducted, but I’m back, and if you let me into my apartment, I’ll get you paid.”
She rolls her eyes, grabbing a ring of keys. “I’ll hand it to you…” she leads the way to the elevator “…you get points for originality. That’s the first abduction excuse I’ve heard in twenty years.”
When she glances over her shoulder, I return a tightlipped smile.
Stepping off the elevator on the fourth floor, she rattles her keys, searching for mine. “Texas’s wealthiest man died a few days ago. Did you hear about it?”
My gait falters. There are a lot of wealthy people in Texas. Maybe she doesn’t know who’s the richest. And my name on the lease is Indiana Hill, so she doesn’t know who I am … who I was.
Lorraine opens my door and narrows her eyes at me. “Coming?”
“Who?” I whisper. My body tingles like it’s been anesthetized.
“Fletcher Ellington. Blew his brains out. He’d been in a wheelchair after an accident. Maybe he no longer thought life was worth living.”