Billionaire's Escort
“Couldn’t say.”
“My staff breached the security of my private home.”
“Because they’re scared shitless, and they’re worried. And I’m your goddamn brother. Not some psycho killer. So relax. Come on. Get ready.”
“Fine.” I hung up and jumped into the shower.
When I got out, I wiped the fog off the mirror and took a look at myself. My face sagged, and a thin beard had sprouted on my face. I never let my facial hair grow. It made me look like a hobo, and that’s exactly how I felt. Without Mercedes, I didn’t feel at home, even in my own house.
Andrew was waiting in the living room when I walked in. Normally, I would’ve hunted down and fired whoever did that, but dammit, they were right. It was time to accept that Mercedes was gone and move on. I didn’t like thinking that, not even in my head. It was too painful. But the truth kept slapping me in the face. He was just the messenger.
“You look terrible.” Andrew got off the couch and walked up to where I stood in the foyer, leaning against the bannister.
“I don’t want to talk about it.”
“That’s cool,” he said and threw up his hands.
“Don’t bullshit me, Andrew. I mean it, and I’m not going to let you take me out and get me drunk so you can get me to talk. No alcohol, and no fucking interrogation.”
“You want ice cream? I know you can’t turn that down.”
“Do I look like I want to leave the house right now?”
“What car should we take?”
“Doesn’t matter.”
“You’ve obviously lost your mind.” Andrew looked me up and down, tearing through what little composure I had. I shrank back. “Tell me what happened, Jake?”
“Don’t come at me like this.”
He looked right at me and took a step closer. “Something is seriously wrong with you.”
“Something is going to be wrong with you if you don’t stop. I’m not into this. Let’s go.” I led him into the garage and picked a car. “You want to drive?” I motioned towards the big, black sedan.
“Really?”
“Yeah, why not?”
Andrew started to walk around the driver’s side of the car. Then he stopped and looked up at me. “It’s almost like you…”
“Like I what?” I snapped.
“Like you… never mind.”
I threw him the keys, and he got in. The drive was short and tense. Andrew made a big deal about being allowed to drive the car. Then he hit the accelerator and realized that I gave him a soccer mom engine. He expected me to let him drive something nice with a turbocharged engine and a sweet stick. I wasn’t about to step outside in a car that brought unwanted attention.
I figured he’d be happy, but he wasn’t. He tensed up, and we both went quiet while I listened to the sound of his heavy breathing. Several times, he looked at me like he was ready to say something. I kept my eyes out the window and watched as the city passed by.
When we got to Frank’s, Andrew had to get the salted caramel. He noticed me standing behind him with my arms folded when he got it, but he didn’t say anything until we walked out to the back patio, where he tore into his cone.
“What’s your deal? I’m tired of this crap.”
“That’s the only reason you came here. You just want to see me fucking squirm. Well, you know what, you disgusting piece of shit? I won’t allow it. I should leave you here.” I stood up with my chest puffed out.
“Sit down.”
“No, y