Secrets and Skin

Chapter 12

The comforting warmth of sunlight against my cheek wakes me. I'm curled up on a wide couch in a very spacious living room. The light is pouring through huge balcony windows with a stunning view of the city; I must be more than ten storeys up. Grant's condo, I realize, having been here before a handful of times.

There are boxes scattered across the hardwood floor - the only mess in an otherwise posh and impeccable room. It looks like someone is moving in. Brie. Talking to a friend, someone I've trusted for years, is exactly what I need right now. I push away the light blanket draped over me and notice, with overdue embarrassment, that I'm still in my bra. I see a plain black t-shirt, probably Brie's, folded neatly on the table across from me. I try to sit up, but every muscle in my body protests. It takes the better part of five minutes before I'm finally upright and longer still before I manage to pull the shirt over my head.

I hear a voice from around the corner and footsteps shuffling back and forth. My knees crack as I stand, but soon I am walking, using the walls as supports.

"Brie?" I call out, turning the corner into a large, black and white-tiled, kitchen. Grant is standing alone, phone in his hand – his only hand – as if he has just hung up. He's already dressed in a sky blue dress shirt, burnt orange tie and slate grey slacks. His right sleeve is tied, just past the elbow.

"She's not here. I just got off the phone with her," he hesitates and looks at the ground, as if he's ashamed, "She... she doesn't know about this. About you being here. About Hunter. As far as she knows I'm one hundred percent on Harvey's side."

"You aren't?" I ask, feeling like I missed something crucial last night.

He sighs and looks at the clock, then back to me. He motions for me to sit down at the breakfast bar and starts making me a tea. "Green or Earl Grey?" he asks, and I'm surprised that he remembers what I drink.

"The Grey, please," I answer. He nods and starts talking while he works away, putting some bread into the toaster and pushing a bowl of fruit in front of me.

"You were out cold last night. Hunter had to carry you to the elevator," he pauses in his work to gesture towards his right side. I wrap my arms around myself, shivering at the thought of Hunter's hands on my body, "I can't imagine what people must have thought of us lugging you around. I didn't know where your keys were, so I couldn't take you home..."

A sudden curiosity builds as I watch Grant fill a kettle with his left arm. "So it's okay for you to drive like that?"

"Of course not. At least not until they finish my prosthesis and I do some assessment or something," he answers, shrugging dismissively.

"Right," I say after waiting a couple of minutes for him to acknowledge the obvious implication that he was driving only last night. I change the subject, not wanting to look a gift horse in the mouth, "What were you saying about Yag... Harvey? Are you like... a double agent or something?"

He stops moving around and meets my eye before asking, "What do you remember about the last time you sang? In that really nice club?"

I tell him that I remember everything, and that I know the man was Harvey Yagher.

"Good," he says, and turns back around to butter the toast, "It was around the same time I was starting to consider leaving my family. Just... living a normal life instead of the stupid political games and bids for power. As I was distancing myself, I made some new allies and connections from other families. Ones that might help protect me if Solomon House decided it was worth charging me with treason. Harvey was one of those allies. He helped me and in return I promised to keep an eye on someone for him."