Part 22 Freddy Cartwright - POV Switch

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"BRENDA'S AUNT IS HERE TO SEE YOU," Peggy said quietly from the doorway of Freddy's office. "She doesn't have an appointment, but says it's very important."

Freddy looked up from his laptop. "Did someone die?"

After attempting to whisper once more, Peggy rushed to the front of his desk. Her black pigtails amusingly lightened up the worried look in her eyes. "She's sitting right outside and said she's not leaving until she sees you. Something's wrong with Brenda. It has to be."

Frantically turning his attention to the many papers strewn about his desk, he struggled to grasp the reason for her presence. "What the fuck is she doing here?" He whispered to himself.

"I'm here because my girl is in trouble," Stacy said from the doorway, stylishly dressed in a white pants suit and red heels holding onto a couture bag. Her white glasses slid gracefully down her slender nose as she perused him from top to bottom. "Hello, Freddy."

Peggy hustled out. "Ma'am."

"Scotch at this hour?" Stacy asked, antagonistic tone front and center.

Freddy confidently took a sip from the glass that's been sitting in front of him for the last hour. "Always a good time for scotch. Would you like one?"

With half a smile, she walked through the door. "Surprised to see me, Fred? We so briefly met a couple of times and seeing how uncomfortable you are, I'm guessing you remember me."

"Forgive me if I don't rush to greet you," Freddy said, feeling every bit as shaken as he sounded. "But I know you don't really like me and yes, your presence is a bit unnerving."

Stacy slowly examined the contents of Freddy's office engaging each picture frame and trophy. "Well, I'm sorry about that. If you had taken even one of my invitations to dinner, drinks, etcetera etcetera, you may not feel that way." She picked up an 8x10 silver frame with a professional photo of Freddy's last race. "It's really too bad what happened to your career."

With a clenched jaw, Freddy exhaled. "I retired."

Stacy grabbed another frame. "Okay. However, I have it on good opinion you had to walk away because of a nasty incident with another racer. Biggest race of your life. Well...he died, you won and got that catchy nickname, Undead Fred."

"Did you come here to rehash unfounded history?"

She selected another photo. "It looks like Brenda's the trophy in this one now doesn't it?"

"Last time I'm gonna ask," he said. "Then you're out of here. Why are you here?"

Stacy calmly set the picture down and took a seat in front of Freddy's desk. "Are you aware there's something going on between her and that new artist you just signed? Modeus?"

With half his heart in his stomach, he barely blinked. "Not sure I know what you mean."

"He was in the salon yesterday. The way he looked at her was more than friends. I can see it in her eyes and I'm worried."

"Did she tell you she was with him?" Freddy asked, folding his arms in front of him. "Or, is this just your observation, because the game is a bit of an illusion."

"I know what the game is, fool," Stacy said scowling. "And I know what I saw. They had an unspoken communication going on."

Trying his best not to get sucked into the drama, he leaned back in his chair. "Look, Modeus is a good-looking guy, but Brenda knows the game and I'm sure it's not what you think. Maybe you should stop trying to meddle in her business so much. Let this all play out how it's going to play out."

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