Home > The Insiders (The Insiders Trilogy #1)(5)

The Insiders (The Insiders Trilogy #1)(5)
Author: Tijan

 

* * *

 

And here we were, heading to a hotel.

We had two SUVs with us.

There was no word to describe this.

Everything was different.

I glanced over to my mom. Chrissy was gazing out the window, a slight excited smile on her face. When I got out to the SUV, she looked at me, but I only said we’d talk later. I might’ve growled it. Or grunted it. I didn’t know. I was still peeved, so I had transferred from the Numb Train to the Not Giving a Shit Train. Either way, she just seemed relieved.

We were driving through downtown Chicago, so her eyes kept going up, her neck craning to see the tops of the buildings all around us.

I recognized the look in her eyes.

She thought everything would be fine now. She was relieved, more than anything else.

I twisted my hands together in my lap.

Brookley had her job. Bingo night at the local VFW. My aunt Sarah. Chrissy was a godmother to two of my cousins. My two uncles. My grandparents. Her younger sister. There was a family tribe there, and they all had their own friends, who were my mother’s friends. Yes, there were issues and divides, but she wanted to be there.

My mom was tough. Hardworking. She never wanted a handout, refused them 102 percent of the time. She got into nursing school, dropped out for a year to have me, then finished the next.

I took that one year from her.

How could I take everything else from her?

“Oh!” Her hand grabbed my arm and squeezed. “Bailey.”

We were pulling into a hotel parking lot. The Francois Nova. It was one of those skyscraper ones, a hotel that could’ve been in a magazine. I might have been impressed a day ago.

Now it was just the last time I’d see my mom.

For a while. That’s what that asshole had said. He needed time. Things would get safe, and I could go back.

Right. I was going with that. It didn’t make my insides feel like they’re being ripped out of me.

“We’re here,” Chrissy said, just as the doors on both sides of the SUV opened and we clambered out.

We were surrounded by cement on a dark parking ramp.

Six guards stood around us, most facing outward, but one went to the door connecting the hotel to the parking ramp. He knocked once, and it opened.

Another two guards stood on the other side, along with a hotel employee. Make that two employees. A woman with her name pinned to her shirt, a pencil skirt, and hair pulled up in a tight bun waited for us. Another employee stood behind her, a bellhop. He was in full hotel uniform, even wearing white gloves.

The woman took us to our room, but it had to be inspected by the guards first.

My mom went inside, and I turned to look at the guards. They all watched me back, their faces impassive. I was going with my gut here. “You guys work for him, don’t you?” I didn’t know the setup, the hierarchies, but while my father might’ve been the big boss, I knew Asshole Kashton was their boss, too.

I didn’t get a response. I didn’t expect to.

“I’ll let you know my answer in the morning, and not a second before.”

Then I slipped inside, not feeling satisfied at all.

I checked the peephole. Two guards were outside the door. I’m sure they had one at each stairway, maybe even at the elevator too.

Chrissy came out from the bedroom. “This place is amazing.”

Yeah. It sure was. Amazing.

She headed for the bathroom. “They gave us clothes … and what’s this?” She picked up a small bag, unzipping it. “And toiletries. There’s almost everything in here we need, but no…” She was sifting through it. “I’m going to need some Tums. With the wine I’m planning on drinking tonight, my reflux will not be pretty.”

“They probably have some in the lobby. I’ll get you some later.”

I couldn’t bring myself to interrogate her throughout the rest of the day.

Maybe I’d already made my decision.

Maybe I wanted to enjoy this last day with my mom.

Or maybe I was already tired, knowing that tomorrow we’d be ripped apart, and I didn’t really know how long this would last.

Or maybe, just maybe, I didn’t want to hear her excuses for the lies she’d told me all my life.

Nope. I just wanted a day with my mom. I was going with that reason.

We ordered in lunch. Ordered coffee. Ordered wine.

It was after dinner when I needed to get a breather.

I used the excuse to get her Tums.

The guards didn’t want me to go, but I needed space. “Look…” I was suddenly exhausted. “I’m going with a feeling that Peter Francis owns this hotel. Am I right?”

They didn’t answer. Again, I didn’t expect them to.

“That means you probably have the entire hotel scoped out with security footage. That you probably have a perimeter set up around the hotel. That anyone questionable or someone who raises red flags will be removed quietly, but quickly. Right?”

Still no answer.

“So the risk assessment is probably less than ten percent if I go to the lobby to get my mom some antacids.”

Still no response. They just stared at me.

“Sixty percent of the adult population experience some type of reflux. That’s around seven million people.” I was quoting straight from the Healthline website. “I’m not asking to go buy a gun. My mom will be vomiting tonight if I don’t get her some Tums.”

Screw it.

I started down the hallway. “I’m going, whether you want me to or not.” But they were right behind me, and I was right. There was a guard down the hall, by the exit door, and he was moving to take point outside the room I just left. My mom was safe.

The lobby was deserted when we got there.

A gold and red rug spread over a marble tile floor, with red and white chairs against the far wall. The front desk itself had a gold trim around the edges, and there were two sweeping stairways that led up to the second floor, separating around two large posts. The same red and gold carpet covered the stairs and the second floor.

The lobby was small, but intimate and grand. I wasn’t surprised. Of course it would be, if Peter Francis owned it.

I started for the clerk but then saw a small shop across the lobby.

I asked the front desk clerk, “Can I get some antacids charged to my room?”

He started to nod, his hands going to his keyboard, but that’s when everything stopped and went into slow motion. This was the second time today that something similar happened.

The hotel doors swept open and in strolled Asshole Kashton.

Like Bright and Wilson, the guards all stood at their tallest height, shoulders back, head up, hands slapped to their sides. The store clerk almost mimicked them without realizing. He was ramrod straight and the epitome of professionalism as he bobbed his head in one firm nod. “Mr. Colello.”

Tension spread around this man.

Lovely. I was already tired of him.

He didn’t look over, but he was aware of me. I knew it like I knew I had two hands. I just did.

“Is he in?”

The clerk’s words almost tripped over themselves in his rush to answer. “Yes, Mr. Colello. We stopped allowing more guests as well.”

Mr. Colello. That’s what he called the guy. I could give him a different nickname.

Mr. Asshole.

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