Chapter Twenty-Six

Brandy

I barely made it to my room before I collapsed. Vaguely, I heard the sound of a door open and shut and figured Basil must have come home for a break. Part of me hoped she would come, and part of me hoped she wouldn’t. As desperately as I needed someone to tell me I’d done the right thing, I didn’t know that Basil would.

It was a drastic decision. One that I likely couldn’t take back now if I wanted to. I’d told him it was over, to go find someone else. People don’t just bounce back from that. Collin and I were done.

And it ripped my soul out.

The very short time I’d spent with Collin had been the most exciting, eye-opening, intensely overwhelming of my life. I was in love with him. As absolutely insane as it was to say that, even in my head, it was true. I was in love with him and probably always would be. I could live to be ninety and never see him again, and I know in my heart that I would always miss him. I would always want him.

Everything about him was something either comfortable or new and exciting. He was quiet and funny, but he was also strong and bold. He knew who he was and what he needed and wasn’t afraid to tell the world. He was kind and gentle, but the rage I saw in his eyes at the suggestion Eugene Anderson had made about me, the protectiveness in his expression, it was more intense than any angry face I’d ever seen. He would protect me like a lion.

And I threw it away.

I threw it away because I would just ruin him. Like I ruined everything. Like I ruined my grandmother’s restaurant and the show and Basil’s career and my own. All of it. I was the one thing that was the same in all those scenarios. I was the problem.

I cried into the pillow until it was soaked and then tossed it away. Laying my head down flat on the mattress, I slowly stopped sobbing. The tears still came, and the churning feeling in my chest continued like dry heaves. But I stopped sobbing. The whining sound ended, and I no longer reacted to the tears. I just let them flow.

The deed had been done. There was nothing now but to wait until midnight. Then I could go and meet them again, do whatever it was they wanted me to do, and either I’d get the footage, or…

It was awful to think about, but I knew the reality. I was a woman, and I was going to meet someone I didn’t know somewhere most likely as remote as the country club earlier. The likelihood that I would be kidnapped or murdered was high. But it was a risk I had to take. I couldn’t live with the footage being released. I’d die first.

It would kill my grandmother. I knew that much. And Basil would have to leave. To save herself and her career, she would have to go. I’d be alone. With a failing sandwich shop I couldn’t keep the lights on in and probably sued by the production company for backing out of the show.

The darkness was so complete that I couldn’t see anything else in my future. Just more black. I was swimming in a sea of ink, trying to find the paper.

My stomach churned in pain. Slowly, I forced myself off the bed and made my way toward the bathroom, where I was sure I would throw up the contents of my breakfast. Just another hit on the merry-go-round. How did my morning start off so wonderfully, and now I was here?

But as I stood in the bathroom, waiting for that moment when my body would finally give up the ghost and empty out, it never came. I heaved a couple times, but nothing. Just as I’d given up and decided I was just going to lie in my bed and not move until eleven, a knock at my door made me turn around.

“Go away,” I said.

A second knock seemed more insistent than the first, and entirely unlike my grandmother. Groaning, I headed to the door and opened it.

“Hey,” Basil said. “What’s going on?”

I couldn’t respond verbally. The tears did the responding for me. I collapsed into her, and she held me, swaying gently as she patted my back. Eventually, she led me into the living room and sat me down on the couch before going to get me a glass of water. I drank it gratefully while she ran to fill up the water bottle I usually had with me and hadn’t brought. With it in my grasp and water in me, I started to feel a little stronger.

“I broke up with Collin,” I said.

“Oh. I wasn’t even sure you guys had made it official.”

“We didn’t until yesterday,” I said. “Then less than twenty-four hours later, I broke it off.”

“That’s fast,” she said. “What did he do?”

I loved that her first instinct was that he had done something to deserve it. Basil would always side with me, much like how Collin described his family, and she would assume that if I had a problem with someone, it was clearly their fault.

Slowly, I shook my head.

“He didn’t do anything. He’s amazing,” I said.

“Then why did you break up?” she asked. “What happened?”

“Don’t judge me,” I said.

“You know better.”

“We had sex in the office,” I said.

“Kinky. I like it.”

“And someone from the documentary crew, I think, put a tiny camera in there and caught the whole thing.”

“Oh, no,” she said, her hands going to her lips as she gasped.

“Yeah,” I said. “And now I’m being blackmailed over it.”

“Wait, what? Who is blackmailing you?”

“That’s the problem,” I said. “I’m not sure. I thought it was the producer, because I kicked them out when I found the camera, but then there’s also Eugene Anderson, who threatened me pretty directly.”

“What happened to make you break up with Collin, though?”

“He came with me to meet the blackmailers, despite them saying I needed to come alone. He and his brother hid in the back of his truck. But when we got there, they had me get out of the truck and walk toward them, then they texted me to tell me that they know Collin was in the car.”

“Oh no,” she said. “What happened then?”

“They left,” I said. “And as I was going back to the car, I passed out from not drinking enough water. When I woke up, I got back in the car and drove straight here.”

“Boo, you can’t do that. You have to drink enough water.”

“I know,” I said. “I know. But we came back here, and I told him that he should go see other people. That I was the problem and that he would be better off without me.”

“I’m sorry, if we can back up a second. Did you say you kicked the documentary crew out?”

“Yes,” I said. “Why?”

“Because they were there filming all day yesterday,” she said. “They said you told them that your grandma was going to be featured today and that they needed to bring her in. So I spent the whole day working, being filmed and trying to make sure your grandma didn’t burn the place down or say something embarrassing.”

“Oh my God,” I said. “They trotted her out without me?”

“Yup,” she said. “I left you a message about it. When I didn’t hear back, I assumed they were telling the truth about you approving it.”

“Wait a second.”

“What?”

“You’re here right now,” I said.

“Yeah.”

“Then… why are there cars out front of the shop?”

“Excuse me?”

“Tons of cars. Outside of the shop. I saw them when we pulled in. I assumed you were working there and didn’t think anything of it when I heard the door open and you came in.”

“I didn’t come in,” she said. “I’ve been upstairs. I told the crew we were taking the day off today.”

“Then who the hell is in the store?”

Both of us turned to look at Grandma’s room, then took off toward it.

“She was just here,” I said. “She answered the door for me when I got here.”

“She must have slipped out again after that,” Basil said. “The door you heard was her leaving.”

“Oh, my God,” I said, looking out of the window. “That’s a camera crew truck! They are inside with her, filming!”

“We have to get her out of there!”

“I’ll go get her, you shut down the store!”