True Places(63)

He turned to Robby, who still had his phone out. “What time is it?” He caught a glimpse of the photo of the girl again. Something about it bugged him.

“Four twenty-five.”

“Can I see that again?”

“The girl? Sure.” Robby handed over the phone.

Reid scrutinized the photo, concentrating on the bed, not the girl. The corner of what looked like a dark gray blanket was under one of her legs. Under her right arm was a pillow with a design on it. He enlarged the photo with his fingers.

“Getting a better look, huh?” Robby said. “Can’t say I blame you.”

He could see the design now: a red horse with only the front half visible. The horse’s body was decorated. He’d seen the pillow before somewhere.

Oh my God, Grammy! I just love the horses!

Robby’s father got up. “Come on, son. We’re expected at home.”

Robby took the phone from Reid. “See you Saturday?”

Reid’s mind was buzzing. He answered reflexively. “Yeah, maybe.”

Robby wagged the phone in the air as he rose to join his father. “She’ll be there!”

What were the odds? How many pillows like that could there be? He pictured Grammy showing them his mother’s room last year after a family dinner—Fourth of July, maybe? Grammy had transformed it from teenager’s room from a magazine to an adult’s room from a magazine. He hadn’t cared about seeing it, but his mother had pulled him along. Brynn, on the other hand, had gone apeshit over it.

I just love the horses!

What were the odds?

Brynn. His little sister.

A wave of nausea came over him. He pushed back his chair, muttering an excuse as he left the patio. He had to find his father and tell him about Robby. About Brynn. Robert was his father’s partner, so his father could talk to the dad, let him know what his arrogant creep of a son was getting up to with a fifteen-year-old. As Reid followed the concrete path between the fairways to the tennis center, he tried not to think about what might have already gone on. Robby hadn’t bragged about it, so maybe nothing yet. The photo was bad enough.

He found his father playing singles on Court 4, on the far side of Court 3, which was also occupied. Reid took a seat on a bench, watching impatiently. He thought about calling his mother, but the way she’d flipped out the other night made him reluctant to pile anything else on her plate. Plus, she didn’t have a relationship with Robby’s father. Reid was sure that telling his father was the right move.

The match ended. Reid hadn’t been keeping track, but judging from his father’s light step off the court, he had won.

His father noticed him and came over, wiping his face on the towel hanging around his neck. “How’d it go? I was on my way to the Grill.”

“Fine. It was fine.” Reid realized he should have thought about what to say. “I need to talk to you.”

“About what?”

“I met Robby, you know, Robert Shipstead’s son.”

“I’ve met him a couple times. Nice kid.”

Reid pressed his lips together to stop himself from smirking. “Here’s the thing. He showed me a photo of a girl on his phone.” He felt his face get hot. “She was nearly naked.”

His father tried to look serious but underneath he was smiling.

“No, Dad. You don’t get it. It’s not that he showed me this girl.”

“What is it, then?”

Reid closed his eyes, remembering the photo, the pillow. A wedge of doubt pushed into his confidence. But it had to have been her. He exhaled hard. “I think it was Brynn.”

“What?”

“I think it was Brynn.”

His father took a step back. “You think it was?”

“Well, I couldn’t see her face.”

His father shook his head and his eyes narrowed. “If you couldn’t see her face, why did you think it was her? Did Robby say?”

“No. He didn’t give a name.”

“Then why, Reid?”

Reid’s heart made a whooshing sound in his ears. He was trying to do the right thing and his father was attacking him. “I saw the pillow. From Mom’s old room? Grammy redid the room and there were these pillows with a red horse on them on the bed. And I saw part of that pillow in the photo.”

His father leaned toward him, dissecting Reid’s expression. “You’re kidding me, right? This is a joke?”

“No!”

“A pillow?”

“Yes!”

His father turned away, walked in a circle, wiping his face on the towel again, and came to stand in front of Reid. “Let me get this straight. Robby showed you a photo of a girl who wasn’t even naked, whose face you couldn’t see, and because you think you saw part of a pillow that looked something like one your grandmother put in your mother’s room, you want me to go to Robert and tell him his son should stay away from Brynn?”

Reid opened his mouth but nothing came out. He was too confused. And furious.

His father wasn’t finished. “I know exactly how you feel about my work, Reid. How you find real estate ventures and capitalism in general to be corrupt or dishonorable or whatever. It disappoints me and, frankly, it hurts.” He licked his lips, gathering himself. “But the game you’re playing here is going too far. You’re too smart not to realize what’s at stake if I go around accusing my business partner’s son of running around with my fifteen-year-old based on your shaky deductions.”