Marry Screw Kill(34)

Everything happened so fast—from realizing what was occurring in front of me to sorting through my reaction. In the end, I turned and got the hell out of there like she had asked. There seemed like no other choice than to run as far as I could from them. It was a private moment and I was trespassing.

I vaguely remember hearing the GPS instructions as I drove downtown to this building, but damn if I even recall walking through the front doors.

After more mindless and unfocused minutes roll by, there’s a tap on my shoulder.

“Hey. Everyone’s leaving.” I look up and see the guy who let me borrow the paper and pen. “You okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine.” I answer back. “Thanks.”

“I’m Jason Lee from Hopkins.” The dude reaches out his hand and we shake.

“Sinclair Elliott. Columbia.”

“You seemed kind of zoned out during the talk. Here’s my phone number if you have any questions. The professor left some materials by the door.”

“Thanks.” Running my hands through my hair, I glance at the door and see the table with a few folders left on it. The professor stands nearby, talking to a young woman.

“See you later,” Jason says as he walks away from me. I make my way to the table and grab the stacked folders without even looking at them. I can’t concentrate on anything besides what I saw this morning.

The clock on the conference room wall says six o’clock. It feels like it should be no later than three. Even through the breaks, I just sat in my chair and drew on my paper. My mind had shutdown.

I’m usually the one other students turn to for notes and lecture outlines. I never miss a beat. Today, I didn’t even hit a beat.

***

I check my phone and notice an email from James with the address to his downtown apartment and a reminder that I’m moving there tomorrow after brunch.

Leaving Harlow alone with James in that house unsettles me. Though, I’m not sure what I can do about it. Would she even want my help? After seeing her today on that table and witnessing how James treated her last night, I don’t think I’m going to be able to standby and be silent. Maybe that’s why I feel so antsy and nervous. It’s like some cosmic force is pulling me toward Harlow. I want to unlock the gilded cage she’s trapped inside and set her free. I also want to be there for her when she walks out of it.

Does she like being under the control of a man who dictates every aspect of her life? She wants to fulfill her lifelong hope to write poetry, so I know there are desires conflicting with what James’ dictates. She’s young with so much promise, but she’s giving him her entire life to control.

I exit the building and walk to the Porsche. I parked outside the building since parking downtown on the weekend is free. This car’s one sweet ride, but something about James offering it to me seems amiss. He was so insistent I drive this car, and it makes me wonder why. I guess I’m generally suspicious of him. The uncle I thought I knew is a creepy piece of shit.

I wonder how he has done so well in life. Maybe he’s one of those people like my father, his own brother, who fools others into thinking they walk on water when they’re really the type who should be swimming with the sharks below the surface.

My grandmother can’t be to blame for how her sons turned out. She practically raised me and I know the difference between right and wrong—more like treating people with dignity versus a possession for someone to control.

Blaming my tyrant of a grandfather is another matter. He made his millions in New York’s financial world by climbing over or squishing those who stood in his way. Unlike my father and uncle, he put up no charades to hide his true character. Even after his death, rumors still abound about his ruthless, cutthroat behavior.

Psychoanalyzing my family won’t change the situation here in Rochester, though. My uncle plans to marry a woman he can control or imprison. The very thought makes my whole body tense at the injustice of Harlow succumbing to his will.

I open the car door and slide onto the soft leather seat. When I turn on the car, the stereo system comes to life and fills the quiet air. I hear my stomach growling over the music, and a pang of hunger hits me.

During our short lunch break, my head was still spinning from seeing Harlow and food was the furthest thing from my mind. I back out of the parking spot and drive toward James’ house while looking around for a place to pick up a bite. There’s nothing but various fast food chains and a drive-thru burger doesn’t appeal to me.

Driving farther, I spot a small pizza place in a shopping center a few miles from The Clinic and pull into the lot. Not wanting to look like an ass and bring home food just for myself, I decide to ring James’ house to see if they’d like anything while I’m out.

My palms perspire while I wait for the line to connect in anticipation that Harlow will answer. It will be the first contact between us since I tore my eyes away from her this morning. To say I’m anxious is putting it mildly.

“Hello,” Harlow whispers into the phone after a couple rings. Her weak voice worries me.

“Harlow. It’s Sin.” She sighs on the other end. “Have you eaten anything for dinner? I’m picking up a pizza.”

Maybe this conversation will help break the ice between us. Hopefully things will be less awkward when I see her face to face. I’ve been dreading that all day while at the same time dying to see how she is doing.