Blindfolded Innocence (36 page)

---

The next week and a half flew by.
 
We had a business acquisition close, and preparing for it meant extra late nights and jam-packed days.
 
The closing finally occurred on Wednesday at 2pm, and Broward gave our whole wing permission to leave at 5.
 
I'd never been so excited about an eight-hour workday in my life.
 
I was merrily stapling briefs together when Todd Appleton stuck his head in the door.
 
"Can I come in?"

Feeling extra generous, I waved him in with a smile.
 
"Of course!
 
Todd.
 
How's everything going?"

"Great.
 
Really great.
 
We heard in the East Wing that you guys were getting an early night off.
 
Want to come out with us?"

"Where you guys going?"

"Cantina del Mer.
 
Drinks are half off till six."

"Ohhh… tempting."

"Hey, don't act highbrow - you may be putting in the long hours, but you're getting paid the same as me - nothing."
 
He grinned at me.

"Yeah, don't I know it."
 
My phone rang, interrupting us.

"Julia Campbell," I answered.

"What are you doing?"
 
It was Brad.

"Just sitting here."

"With who?"

"I assume you know, or you wouldn't be calling."

"Meaning?"

"I'm talking to Todd." I said sweetly, through my teeth.

"Let me talk to him."

"Why?"

"Because I need to, and he left his cell phone here."

"Just tell me the message, and I'll pass it on."

"Stop being difficult."

"I just feel like we are back in the Bob scenario - the only thing missing is your intimidating self."

"Just tell him to get his ass back here."
 
He ended the call.

I raised my eyebrows at the phone and hung it up.
 
Todd was trying to look like he hadn't been eavesdropping on my half of the conversation.
 
"So… will you come?"

I grinned at him.
 
"Wouldn't miss it.
 
I'll see you guys there around 5:30."
 

"Awesome!"
 
he smacked his hand on the desk and stood, bouncing on his toes a bit and looking around, searching for something to say.

I turned back to my briefs, stapling and sorting them, and he took the cue and started to leave.
 
I waited until he had just past through my door.

"Oh, and Todd?"

"Yeah?"
 
He was back in an instant, standing in my doorway.

"De Luca wants you.
 
Right away."

---

At 5pm I swung by the bathroom and used my emergency makeup stash to amp my look up a bit.
 
I had worn a black suit that day with a light blue lace cami underneath, so I removed the jacket and put my hair down.
 
I had a pair of dangly earrings in the car from some event weeks ago, and swapped my pearl studs for them.
 
I looked good - not sexy, but a big step up from the frumpy intern that had strode into work nine hours earlier.
 
Trying to find a spot downtown is typically hell, but at five thirty a lot of spots had opened, and I was able to snag one just a block and a half away from the restaurant.
 

I saw Jennifer, Renfield's intern, parking her Jeep on a side street, and I waved at her and waited.
 
She jogged up, giving me a bright smile and a quick hug.
 
"Girl, haven't seen you since orientation!" she said.
 
"What do they do - lock you guys up in the West Wing?"

I laughed.
 
"No, just work us to the bone.
 
The Broward rumors are true.
 
What about at Renfield's?
 
Is she as big of a bitch as everyone says?"

"Depends on the day.
 
Most days she’s okay - just every once in a while it's like WHOA - watch out!"
 
She held the door open for me, and we entered the restaurant.
 
Todd was already there, along with Anton, the Asian intern, and Trevor.
 
They all had beers, and I ordered a Michelob Ultra from the waitress as soon as she passed.
 

"We got queso and chips coming," Trevor said, pulling out stools for both of us.
 

"Awesome," I said. Todd seemed to be avoiding my gaze and I shot him a quizzical look.
 
He gave a quick smile and then started asking Trevor something.
 
I shrugged and turned to Jennifer.
 

"You take the LSATs yet?"

"Once.
 
I did okay, but am taking a review course this summer.
 
You?"

"I took one my sophomore year.
 
Did well enough then, but I'm gonna try an online course first, see how that helps me."

We chatting about menial crap, and kept ordering beers and eating chips.
 
Pretty soon I was well buzzed and needing real food.
 
I flagged down our waitress and ordered a chicken quesadilla, then made my way over to Todd's side of the table. He gave me a quick smile then started studying the saltshakers on the table.
 
I moved in front of him, standing where he couldn’t avoid me.
 

"What's wrong?
 
Why are you acting so weird?"
 

"Nothing.
 
I'm not acting weird."

"Yes, you are.
 
You're avoiding me like the plague.
 
You invited me here - if you didn't want me to come, you shouldn't have asked."

"I did want you to come.
 
Then.
 
But.."

"But what?"

"De Luca told me to stay away from you."

I stumbled back, staring at him in surprise.
 
"What?"

He chewed at his bottom lip nervously.
 
"When I got back to the wing today, after talking to you, he called me in his office and told me to stay away from you."

"Did he say why?"

"He didn't allow me to ask any questions.
 
Just told me that fraternizing with coworkers was bad news, and he expected more of me.
 
Told me to stay in our Wing and stay away from the other interns."

"What did you say?" I sputtered.

He looked down.
 
"I asked him if I could still hang out with Trevor, after work.
 
We've been best friends for three years and I told him that.
 
He said Trevor was okay.
 
I really have to go.
 
I shouldn't even be here."
 
He rose despondently and went over to Trevor, placing a hand on his shoulder and whispering something in his ear.
 
I held up my hand.
 
"Todd."

He didn't hear me, so I repeated it louder.
 
"Todd!"
 
That got his attention.
 
He looked up at me quickly, with a beaten look on his face.
 

"You stay.
 
I'm leaving."

"What?
 
No, I'll just -"

"Stop.
 
It's done.
 
I'm leaving."
 
I reached in my purse, rifled through the side pocket until I found $40, and laid it on the table.
 
"Give that to the waitress, and you guys can have my damn quesadilla."
 
I stomped out of the restaurant, leaving them stunned and staring after me.
 
I stood outside in the warm breeze, seething mad.
 
That prick.
 
I whipped out my phone and tried Olivia, then Becca.
 
No answer from either.
   
Damn
.
 
I was too buzzed to drive and didn't know where I was going.
 
I saw a cab approaching and I waved frantically till it turned on its light and pulled over.
 
I got in the back and slammed the door.
 
"Just head north.
 
I'll give you an address in a minute."

---

I assumed that Brad lived in the North side of town - mansions and manicured lawns seemed to be his thing.
 
I pulled up whitepages.com on my iPhone, but there was no listing for a Brad De Luca.
 
Next I checked the property appraiser's site.
 
That did it.
 
1244 Olive Line Trail belonged to Bradley De Luca.
 
So did 3 or 4 apartments, but I figured the Olive Line Trail address was his home.
 
According to the Tax Collector, he paid $1.8 million for it 3 years ago.
 
The beauty of the internet, a stalker's fucking dream.
 
I gave the taxi driver the address and quietly steamed in the backseat.
 
Fucking De Luca.
 
Thinks he can decide who I hang out with?
 
The man who doesn't want me, but doesn't want anyone else to have me?
 
I will wring his ridiculously large neck with my own two hands.
 
I ignored my grumbling stomach and flexed my hands in anticipation.

---

Olive Line Trail was on the north side of downtown, but just barely.
 
We were there within 10 minutes, and I paid the cab driver before thinking.
 
He sped off into the darkness and I stood there, on an oak lined residential street wondering what exactly my plan was.
 
I checked my watch.
 
7pm.
 
The man might not even be home, though he definitely wasn't still at work.
 
I walked up a pavered drive to a set of double doors.
  
I started to reach for the doorbell, but decided that dramatic was a better approach so I reached forward and pounded the shit out of the door.
 
No one answered.
 
I pounded again, then turned, looking at the empty street, taxi gone.
 
Shit.
 
I heard something from around the side of the house, so I teetered down the front steps and went around.
 
In the back of the house was a large pool, hot tub (big surprise) and big covered porch.
 
Brad was sitting on the back porch in a wicker chair turned to face the house.
 
He had a tennis ball in his hand and was throwing it against the house, letting it bounce back, and catching it.
   
He had a phone to his ear and was talking.
 
I cleared my throat and stood on the steps behind him, my hands on my hips.
 
He tilted his chair and looked over his shoulder, his eyes hardening when they saw me.
 
"Rick, I'm gonna have to call you back."
 
He hung up and stood, turning to face me.
 
He wore a white v-neck tee shirt and workout shorts, tennis shoes on his feet.
 
His neck and back were wet from sweat, and looked like he had just gotten back from a run.
 
"What are you doing here?"
 
He sounded irritated.