“What am I gonna say?” I plead with Michael, hoping for one of his razor-sharp, solving all my problems type answers.
But he just shrugs and keeps driving.
“Tell him you’re with me,” he says nonchalantly.
What? Tell the truth?
Crap. This is more real than I thought.
And way before the time when I thought anyone would find out about….
“He doesn’t have to know…about us. Not yet if you don’t want him to,” Michaels says, smiling, making me gasp with relief. “Tell him you’re at a worksite with me, familiarizing yourself with what we do, and you’ll see him later,” is all he suggests.
Not a lie.
Not technically anyway.
While I wrack my brains trying to think about what to text to my Dad, Michael calmly observes that he’s still waiting to hear back from Jase. As if he’s already forgotten the fresh hell I’ve found myself in.
I thought this was like being a Princess, and Prince Charming here was gonna save the day? I never thought I’d have to tell my Dad stories so soon. I mean, Michael hasn’t even, I mean…we haven’t done anything yet.
Not that anyway.
But if I trust anything right now, it’s Michael, so I quickly reply to Dad, telling him I’m on the road with the CEO of Hart Construction, and we can catch up later.
Dad’s reply is instant. So proud of you. CEO huh? Wow! You’ll be running the place soon lol See you tonight then XXX
“There,” I say, my voice breaking as I try to remain calm. Wondering how far we are from Michael’s place. A bathroom might be useful right now.
“Better?” he asks, and I nod feverishly. “Almost there too,” he adds, reading my mind and pointing to a tree-packed, hilly rise off the expressway.
One of those housing estates that are dotted with oversized homes overlooking the coastline.
I know the name of the area from what Jase has told me, but I never imagined it was really one of those areas. The kind of neighborhood you need a passkey to even get in, and with their own security, that kind of thing.
“I can text Jase if you want,” I offer, glad to do something useful except sit here with my jaw-dropping.
“Could you? I think he’d answer you quicker somehow,” Michael smiles to himself.
But I also realize something. Jase hasn’t texted me at all, especially on my first day at work.
Not once.
I guess I have been kinda busy anyway….
The fresh memory and slick feeling still between my legs makes me hum and smile as I ask Jase via text where he is.
I don’t get a reply by the time we pull up to the housing estate’s gates. His Dad keys in an access code and swipes a card before cruising in. Something’s off.
I know I ignored Jase after the interview, but that’s different. Surely he wouldn’t be mad about that now? Only one way to find out….
I call his number, which goes straight to voicemail, making me think he’s either actually busy with his work or…?
Busy with something or someone else.
Michael drives a few streets, and I feel his truck tilting up as we climb the hill.
His place is right at the top, and the huge wrought iron gates swing silently open, revealing a gorgeous home set on immaculate grounds that makes me forget all about Jase for a second.
“Here we are,” Michaels says, but sounds a little uneasy from my reaction.
“Home sweet home,” he sighs. He pulls up by the huge double doors under the front porch, which is about the size of our whole house.
“No luck with Jase?” he asks, changing the subject, and I struggle to take in the house and Michael and think about Jase all at the same time.
Whatever Michael’s done to me has changed me already. It’s unplugged something inside, and it feels like he still has some work to do down there if all it’s done is make me feel half crazy. Like I’m outside of my body or something. But really, I’m just plain old me in a very different setting.
The Hart Mansion by the looks of things….
“Uh… No,” I murmur, shriveling in my seat, feeling like a fish out of water as the giant penny drops in my mind just how ‘comfortable’ the Hart family is compared to people like us.
People like Dad and me.
“Probably a good thing,” Michael remarks about Jase. “Means he might’ve made his meeting after all. I hope he has. C’mon, I’ll show you around,” he adds with enthusiasm.
Opening my door for me and then taking my hand as we walk up to the entrance, I look back toward the gates, swinging shut again automatically.
The traditional English-style gardens, complete with a huge fountain and sandstone steps that match the house’s giant blocks, did not escape my notice. And no doubt there’s a hedge maze to boot, tucked somewhere down back, making it all seem so out of place somehow.