Accidental Tryst (Charleston #1)(36)

"Yes, sir!"

I hit end, my chest heaving. "Fucking incompetents."

I blow out a breath. I dare not tie up the line by calling, so I text Emmy.



* * *



David called, he's near the financial district. Paris Cafe. I don't add that he might not still be there. But then I realize they might not get him back. Shit. I go back and delete the text before sending and try again.

David is okay. He's in the financial district. Tracking him down now.



* * *



Emmy: OMG. Did you talk to him? Is he okay? Where is he? How did he get there?



* * *



He's fine. More when I know. Oh, and what's his last name?



* * *



Emmy: Same as me. Dubois.



* * *



Soon as I talk to him again, I can have a car there in under thirty minutes to pick him up and bring him back out to Far Rockaway. I'll let you know as soon as he's safely picked up.



* * *



It's a promise I hope I can keep.



* * *



I borrow Ravenel's phone to call Dorothy and get the number for my driver and explain the situation to him.

Then I dial back the bar. "This is Trystan Montgomery, did you manage to get David back?"



* * *



I look up Armand's number in Emmy's phone as I massage the tension in the back of my neck. What a day.



* * *



Hi, it's Trystan. Not sure if you heard from Emmy, but I'm renting her place tonight and apparently I can get the key from you?



* * *



I pull up the address Emmy sent me and when I map it, I realize I can walk there pretty easily. Charleston is still bustling in the early evening. Bars and restaurants are starting to fill. I find myself in the same cobblestone alley she sent me to the first morning to have breakfast at Armand's place. Makes sense then that he's taking care of her cat and has a key since he works such a short distance away. The café is closed up, I hope he knows I'm coming. I find the address pretty easily and stop by a gate in a wall. It's locked.

Looking through the bars down the narrow plant-lined pathway, I look ahead to the periwinkle blue front door. It's so Emmy, I think, even though I have no idea why I should assume that. As I look at it, it opens and Armand steps out.

"Ahh, Trystan! Emmy told me you are renting her little casa." He reaches back inside the house and the gate buzzes open.

"Armand." I greet him.

He nods, looking at me speculatively as I approach. "Interesting new development, no?"

I shrug. "I needed a place to stay."

He nods slowly. "Of course, of course." He stands aside and gestures me inside.

I have to duck slightly through the doorway as it's basically built for a hobbit. Inside, the space is rectangular with a small kitchen against the closest wall to me, an eating area in its mirrored spot to my left. The rest of the room is a cozy living area facing a fireplace. One side of the fireplace has shelves stuffed with books, the other is the beginning of a narrow staircase that disappears behind the chimney.

Luckily, I can actually stand up straight, though I probably shouldn't do any jumping jacks. It doesn't feel claustrophobic though. The wide windows on three sides showcase the lovely gardens surrounding the tiny house. I look outside the window. "Emmy do this?"

"Si. Fireplace has gas," Armand informs me and shows me how to turn it on. Though I can't imagine using it in this town. Does it ever get cold? I can't remember.

"Hot water takes a few minutes and bedroom is upstairs. Beer is in the fridge, Emmy told me to buy some. I must go. But I'll see you for breakfast?"

I'm looking around taking in my surroundings. It feels both familiar and strange to be in Emmy's home. It's tiny. But somehow it fits her. There are small, framed pictures on the walls, covering any white space that isn't filled with large colorful paintings. The dining table, if you can call it that, has a sewing machine on it, and rolls of fabric are leaning, stacked in the corner. Books are piled here and there, but it doesn't seem cluttered.

In fact, it's everything I imagine Emmy to be. It's the Emmy in my mind personified. It smells enticing, clean, but unfamiliar. There's a sense of a life well-lived and opportunities seized. It's vibrant, a bit edgy in parts, fun, yet comfortable. Unexpected but still . . . traditional.

"Where's the cat?" I ask

Armand makes a disgusted sound. "Who knows? But she eats her food and makes her shit, so I know she's here." He shrugs. "I'll be back to check on the cat tomorrow. Unless you want to?"

"No, not really."

"Okay. Well."

"Wait. You want to stay for a beer?" It's weird to ask. I mean he's a friend of Emmy's. But then, I don't really know Emmy.

"I wish I could, but I'm meeting someone, and he seems like a punctual type of guy. Maybe tomorrow?"

I nod, his revelation answering a question about his relationship with Emmy I wasn't sure I wanted to ask. "Maybe tomorrow. Thanks, Armand."

"Night, Trystan."