CHAPTER TWELVE
J eremy
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F or all that Jeremy loved mornings and sunrises, four o clock was a dreadful hour to be awake. He yawned so hard his jaw popped as he pulled on a USC tee and white shorts. The lamp on his desk felt obscenely bright this morning as he clicked it on. He d packed his bag last night, but it was a long way back if he forgot anything, so he pawed through it as he counted off books and notebooks. His CD player was in the smaller pocket with his pens and gum. After a moment s debate he dug extra batteries out of his drawer and tossed them in on top.
Satisfied he had what he needed, he dug his sneakers out from under his bed and laced them up. A small tote bag on his desk had what he d change into after he was done at Lyon this morning, so he plucked both bags up and cut the lamp again. He immediately ran into his chair in the dark and grimaced as he made his way out of the room. The railing helped him get downstairs in the dark.
By the time he reached the landing he d readjusted to the shadows, only to promptly blind himself again when he cut on the kitchen light. Jeremy set his things on the island, glanced toward the coffee maker where it was finishing up a delayed brew, and went to get breakfast out of the fridge.
Going forward he d be eating at Laila s place, since he had to leave his car there anyway, but Dallas insisted on making something for the first day back. He didn t care if Jeremy was nine or twenty-two; he was sticking to tradition until Jeremy finally moved out. Jeremy was the only one left Dallas could do it for, since Joshua lived with Arnold, Annalise had her own space, and Bryson would be back in Connecticut by the end of the week.
Jeremy peeled foil off his plate, laughed at the stick figure horse Dallas had drawn into his pancakes, and got his food into the microwave as the coffee maker beeped completion. William had only prepped half a pot, enough that Jeremy could have a mug here and pack some to go. Jeremy clung to the mug for dear life as he watched the clock. The coffee was gone long before his food was, but eventually Jeremy could pile everything into the sink and get his plate soaking.
He plucked up the travel mug William had set out for him and hesitated when he saw what was hiding behind it: William had moved his keys in here so he could go out the side door if he wanted. Beneath the ring was an index card that simply said, Drive safe, in William s tidy handwriting. Jeremy pocketed the note with a smile, grabbed his bags and coffee, and snatched up his keys on his way to the door.
The extra caution was unwarranted: Bryson s car wasn t out front. Where he d gotten off to this early in the day was a mystery, but Jeremy would take his blessings where he could find them. He dropped his things in the passenger seat, put his coffee where he could reach it, and started the trek east toward campus. This time of day there was little traffic to contend with, and the morning was cool enough Jeremy could put the windows down while he drove.
Laila had left the porch light on for him. Jeremy parked behind her car, grabbed his bags, and took the stairs up two at a time. There was a piece of paper taped to the front door as he reached for the handle, and he hesitated at the sight of a crudely drawn guillotine. Laila s neighbors hadn t expressed any reservations about Jean s presence this summer, even in the days following the interview, so this was an unexpected rudeness. Jeremy tugged it loose, checked it all over for a message or any hints as to who d left it, and brought it inside with him.
The bicycles that had been tucked into the back corner of the living room all summer were now moved to the living room doorway, their tires eating up half the hallway. Cat and Laila tended to ride to campus during the school year, both to make the trek between classes faster and so they could grab groceries on the way home from practice. Last year they d set a slow enough pace to campus he could run alongside them as a warmup, but this year he d be walking to Lyon with Jean. Since the morning workout ran until seven-thirty and the first class of the day started at eight, the Trojans were set to rendezvous directly at the fitness center at six.
Jeremy found his friends sitting shoulder-to-shoulder at the kitchen island, munching their way through overnight oats with bleary eyes. He took up a spot opposite them and set the paper down where they could all see it. It took a second for them to register what they were looking at, and then Cat and Laila went perfectly still. Jean s eyes narrowed a bit in annoyance, but he kept eating.
It was taped to the door, Jeremy said, glancing over at Laila. No visitors last night?
None that we heard. Laila pushed her bowl aside in picking up the piece of paper. I ll talk to Gary about getting security cameras set up out front, but I m not sure how useful that will be. I don t think it was a neighbor-no sane person would risk losing their lease now that school is underway.
Man... Cat took the drawing when Laila moved to set it down. She glanced at Jean s face to gauge his mood, but he was more interested in his food than this new complication. We were so careful to cover our tracks. No one should know he s here except us and the Foxes. Who else could it be?
Someone idiotic, Jean said. We haven t used the guillotine in thirty years.
Almost exactly thirty, Laila agreed. September 1977.
I like that you two just know this off the top of your heads, Cat said dryly. Nerds.
A glance at the clock showed he had some time to linger, so Jeremy cracked his drink open and set to inhaling it. Cat and Laila went back to their oats, but they kept glancing toward the artwork with moody stares. Cat was scraping the last spoonful into her mouth when her phone dinged. She scooped it up, opened her new message, and said Oh! so loud Laila nearly jumped out of her skin.
Cat dropped a quick kiss against Laila s shoulder in apology before turning on Jean. You get to meet the water kids today! Angie s already setting up at Lyon. She set her phone aside so she could count them off on her fingers. Angie s a grad student studying biokin... etic... uh.
Biokinesiology, Laila supplied, with an emphasis on sports science.
Cat pointed at her. Yes. That. Thank you. You ll only really see her at Lyon or on game nights. Tony and Bobby are the undergrads. They alternate afternoons but will also come along to all our games. Tony takes a bit to warm up to new faces, but Bobby s the most scatterbrained sweetheart you ll ever meet. She s also desperately in love with Diego, so don t be tempted by her cute face.
Our mascot, Jeremy said, assuming Jean wouldn t recognize the name.
A useless expenditure, Jean muttered into his coffee.
Next you ll say the Ravens didn t have cheerleaders, Cat said, then paused as she thought. You didn t, did you? I honestly can t remember ever seeing them at your games.
Our fans came to watch us, not a wasteful side show, Jean said, putting out a hand for her bowl. Cat passed hers and Laila s over, and Jean went to rinse them out in the sink. Jeremy looked at the clock, chugged the rest of his coffee, and set his mug aside to collect on his way home that evening. The artwork was slipped into his backpack so he could show it to the coaches, and he slung his bag over his shoulder.
Cat got up and straightened their shirts with exaggerated seriousness as Jean and Jeremy tried to pass her for the door. Oh, my darling sons, off to their first day at school. Mwah! she added, kissing the air near Jean s cheek. Do Momma proud.
Jean looked to Laila and said, Handle her.
Oh, I do, Laila said into her coffee.
Jean looked two seconds from willing himself out of existence, but Jeremy only laughed and turned him toward the front door. He toed back into his shoes while Jean detoured to the bedroom for his own bag. They were out of the house a few minutes later, and Jeremy breathed in the crisp morning air with a wide smile. As rough as getting up had been, there was something undeniably glorious about starting a new year. He simply had to quiet every yammering voice that reminded him this was his last year.
The peace lasted only until they reached Exposition Boulevard, and then the blinding smatter of flashing lights took a few years off Jeremy s life. He put a hand up instinctively to shield his face, but before he d sorted out what was going on there were three older men in their personal space. Jeremy rapidly blinked spots out of his eyes as he tried to get a good look at them.
Jean Moreau, one said, and Jeremy would give him points for getting it right if not for his follow-up question: We ve got a few questions about your parents.
Good morning, friends, Jeremy said, dropping his hand to Jean s elbow and giving it a careful nudge. Jean kept pace with him as he set off toward campus, and of course so did the journalists. Thanks for your interest, but it s not a good time. We re trying to get to morning practice.
A word about Grayson s visit, a second said, undeterred.
Clarify your age for us, the third said, earning a dirty look from the second for interrupting. Hannah Bailey revealed that you re currently nineteen years old, and we were able to dig up supporting evidence. He put a hand to his notepad, checking his work, and said, Here it is: Jean-Yves Moreau, fourteen at time of immigration. That s you, I assume; only Jean Moreau to enter the country that year as far as I could find.
Jean rocked to a stop but said nothing. Jeremy filed it away for later-much later, if the look on Jean s face was anything to go by. The man scribbled a note even as Jeremy tried again to get Jean moving. Jean didn t need encouragement but set off down the sidewalk at a brisk pace. Based on the timeline, that means you would ve been sixteen when you enrolled at Edgar Allan. He checked Jean s face for confirmation. Jean kept his stare pointed forward like he couldn t even hear them. Two years is a tight turnaround to get a high school degree, especially in a new language and school system. I would ve thought you d lose years, not gain them.
Agreed, the first admitted, studying Jean with interest. I m impressed you pulled it off but curious as to why it was approved. Starting you at Edgar Allan so young was Coach Moriyama s greatest mistake. Jean s flinch was full-body, and Jeremy saw all three men take notes. Rather than comment on it, the man bulled on with, I m not denying your talent, but the numbers your freshman year don t back up his faith in you. It s not until we put them alongside your own age group-high school sophomores and juniors-that the gap widens to something phenomenal. I want to know: why the hurry to throw you up against Class I schools, rather than let you gradually age onto the lineup?
When Jean said nothing, the third asked, Is he even following any of this?
He understood Hannah just fine, the first said. Hello, Moreau, we are talking to you.
It s too early for heavy conversations, Jeremy said, showing them his watch. Perhaps you can ask Coach Rhemann to set something up at a more reasonable time and location.
Just a few more questions, the third said, flipping through his pages again. Need him to weigh in on a couple rumors for us. Not the usual ones, he said, and found the spot he was looking for. See, I think it s interesting that we ve somehow got so many criminals at play here. This spring we got a heads-up about Neil Josten s relationship with both the Wesninski and Hatford families, and now here come the Moreaus from left field. It s a little hard to believe, don t you agree?
When Jean gave no sign he d heard, the reporter lengthened his stride to get ahead of the pair. Jean sidestepped him, but the reporter grabbed the strap of his bag to drag him to a stop. At least listen to the working theories before you refuse me.
That is enough, thank you, Jeremy said, catching hold of the same strap. Jean felt the weight of his hand and slipped free of his bag, letting Jeremy step forward to fill the space between them. Jeremy held the reporter s challenging stare and said, I would like to remind you that no one here is at liberty to speak about the ongoing investigation.
The people have a right to know who USC has on their roster.
Sure, Jeremy agreed. This is Jean Moreau, a transfer from Edgar Allan who ll be wearing the number twenty-nine this fall. He is a valuable addition to our defense line, and we are all excited to have him on board.
And you re not worried about him? was the skeptical accusation.
I have no reason to be, Jeremy said. He is my friend.
The second man nudged the first and muttered, Like Dexter was.
Jeremy gave the man his undivided attention and his most pleasant smile. Sorry, I didn t catch that.
I think you did, the man said, even as his companion said, Don t swing at a Wilshire, man. It isn t worth it.
On your left! came Cat s cheery cry, and she dinged her bell nonstop as she rolled up on them. She kept her collision course, forcing the reporters to give ground to her, and pulled up alongside Jeremy so close their sleeves brushed. Laila came up on Jean s other side with her phone at her ear. Both girls had to dismount, as this pace was too slow to stay balanced, and Cat gave one of the reporters an enthusiastic clap on the shoulder. Nice! Up and at em at dark o clock! Good to see you re as excited for the season as we are. You ve seen the schedule, right?
And off she went, chattering about the Trojans first game at a speed and volume they couldn t compete with. It was an unfortunate topic, considering it was the Bobcats former star the reporter meant with his dig, but Jeremy would take anything at this point. Every attempt to interrupt her was simply talked over, as if Cat was too excited to notice their words. Jeremy quietly passed Jean his bag back, and Jean fell in alongside him as they continued toward campus at last.
Jeremy, Laila said, and he followed her stare. A few security guards were at the corner of Vermont and Exposition. Laila held up her phone to get their attention before hanging up and tucking it into her pocket. The guards came out into the crosswalk to meet them as soon as the pedestrian light turned on.
Okay, next time then! Cat said, waving farewell as the reporters were practically bodied back across the street. Once they were out of earshot, she grimaced over at Jeremy and Jean. I thought mosquitos were diurnal. Where d they even come from?
Caught up with us at the end of your street, Jeremy said.
Address has definitely been compromised, then, Laila said, and looked from Jeremy to Jean. Are you okay?
Jean waved her off with a sharp jerk of his hand, and Laila let it drop. The turnoff to take them to Lyon wasn t much further, and the girls chained their bikes up out front before following Jean and Jeremy inside. Angie was working with Xavier when they reached the Trojans weight room, watching the way he twisted and turned. She added a couple notes to his file before sending him on his way with her blessing.
Jean Moreau, she said when Jeremy led Jean over to her. I ve heard a lot about you.
Good here? Jeremy asked. I m going to catch up with Coach.
I ve got him, Angie promised, so Jeremy left Jean in her care.
Lisinski was going through a folder, trusting Angie to get the Trojans started, but she set her work aside when Jeremy stopped in front of her. Someone s figured out where Jean lives, he said as he tugged the artwork out of his backpack. Found this on Laila s front door this morning, and we had a couple opinionated reporters escort us to campus.
Lisinski frowned down at the guillotine drawing. Fantastic.
Laila s uncle will set up cameras at the house, but...
I assume you ll be driving to campus going forward?
If they persist, I might have to, Jeremy said, with a quiet sigh. It ll be harder to track when they lose interest and move on to bigger topics, but better safe than sorry.
If any of you stop feeling safe, you let us know immediately.
Yes, Coach.
She clipped the artwork to her file, supposedly so she could show it to the rest of the coaching staff while the Trojans were at class, and turned a searching look on him. Anything else? All right, let us worry about this for a bit, she tapped the paper, and you focus on getting through today.
Jeremy accepted her dismissal at face value and went to join his designated group. Summer practices had put them here for two hours, so shaving off half an hour for class made the time fly. Those that had eight o clock classes hustled through the showers afterward, gamely ignoring their teammates jokes about finding a nice place to nap instead, and Jeremy passed Jean off to Shane out front afterward.
I ll see you after, he promised, and went his own way.
He d had this professor before, so he had a good idea how his first class would go. He was pleased to be right: she distributed syllabi, updated her roster with preferred nicknames, and did the world s quickest Q I met him when I took a photography class last fall. He arched an eyebrow at Jean and waited, silently willing him to remember his manners.
Jean held Jeremy s stare for ten seconds before offering up an unenthusiastic, Morning.
Elias let it slide with an easy nod and returned his full attention to Jeremy. The slow head-to-toe he treated Jeremy to was less subtle than the quick scan he d given Jean. Jeremy kept his eyes on Elias s face, content to wait him out. Elias only grinned at being caught and said, You almost look rested. How long will that last?
Oh, I d give it a week, Jeremy said, and went quiet as their professor moved to the center of the room.
Good morning, good morning, good morning. And to you, he added as the last girl came rushing in. Can you get the door? Thank you, thank you. Good morning! I am Adrian Gracie. You can call me Adrian. Let s make sure we ve got everyone. He turned in a slow circle, counting heads with his finger, and gave a satisfied nod. Okay! This semester we re going to be studying basic wheelwork using electric wheels.
Fair warning: you are going to get messy. We do have aprons you can borrow, he pointed to where they hung on hooks against the far wall, but they can only stop so much. I would strongly warn you against wearing anything you ll hate to see ruined. If you can bring a change of clothes with you, great! Class is technically scheduled until eleven-fifty, but we ll be done with the wheel by twenty after, so you have time to clean your stations and change if you so desire. Good? Good! Let s begin.
Each station should have a bag of clay and a bucket, yes? Let s get the clay out of the way and see what we re working with. His own station was only a few spots down, and he went to overturn his bucket. A small pile of tools fell out, and Jeremy pulled his own out as Adrian went over the purpose of each.
From there it was a quick introduction to the wheel itself, from the pedal to the removable bat. He sent them to the sink to get water for their buckets before having them gather around the table. There were a few circular plywood trays scattered across the surface, as well as a lone bag of clay, so Adrian tugged what he needed closer.
Let s talk about clay, he said, and launched into an easy explanation of what type of clay they d be using, what size chunks he wanted them to start with, and how to wedge it so it was ready for the wheel. He worked as he talked, kneading his own clay into something manageable, and showed it off when he was done. Easy, right? Let s center it. With me, he said, and got comfortable at his station.
He made it all look easy and got so distracted answering basic questions and giving his credentials that he ended up with a small pot. He hummed as he considered it before taking wire to it and freeing it from his wheel.
Okay, let s get to it, he said. I ll come around and help out, so flag me if you need anything before I reach you.
Jeremy wasn t sure what he d expected this clay to feel like, but the reality gave him pause. It was the dryer side of sticky, and prying off a chunk to work with was a little harder than he expected. Jean looked equally displeased by the texture of it, if his slight scowl was any indicator, but he wordlessly followed Jeremy to the table. There was a distinct lack of any energy or interest in prepping his clay until the girl across from them said, Oh, like kneading bread!
Close enough, Adrian said, scraping residue from his bat.
Jean considered that in silence for a moment before getting back to work with a little more focus, and Jeremy tried not to smile at him. The more Jeremy worked his clay, the better it felt under his hands, or maybe he was just getting used to it.
The real fun began when the class had to practice centering. Elias forgot to remove his tools first and sent them flying when he hit the pedal too hard, and more than one startled yip around the room said their classmates clay was trying to make a similar escape. Adrian made a slow circle, studying each student in turn and offering advice. Jeremy tried listening to all of it in case it proved useful. The first time was a success for all of five seconds; when Jeremy tried a second mound just to test it, he cupped his clay so hard he squashed it. He glanced over to see how Jean was doing.
What do you think?
Jean showed off his filthy hands, but he checked how far away Adrian was before muttering, This is repulsive.
A little, Jeremy agreed, tapping his sticky fingers together. I m going to make a dog bowl for Barkbark.
Jean stared at him in disbelief and immediately lost control of his clay. He cracked his knee into the wheel in his hurry to catch it, and he scowled at Jeremy s helpless laughter. Adrian caught up to them then, briefly killing their conversation. He checked their posture and their grip, showed Jean how to brace his elbows against his legs so his arms were better locked, and gave them a stamp of approval before moving on.
Everyone s looking good, he said. Let s move on and practice pulling. Nothing fancy, okay? Not yet, anyway. We ll save that for midterms.
Jeremy had severely overestimated what could get done in a class this long. The entire period was a series of failures. Sometimes the clay cooperated, and Jeremy could manage a lopsided little cup; others it wanted to wilt and cave in on itself for reasons he couldn t always guess. Jeremy was just as likely to send his sponge flying at the two-hour mark as he was in the first two minutes, and Adrian hadn t lied that the aprons could only protect him so much. He had splatters all the way up his forearms and a half-dozen more on the knees of his jeans.
Adrian treated their lack of progress with an easygoing patience. Now and then he d settle down and crank out a vase or plate like it was nothing, but he spent most of his time floating from station to station. He could tell in a glance what had gone wrong with each attempt, and he had a half-dozen easy ways to explain how to improve on the next go. Jeremy considered his latest collapsed mess in some consternation and sat back to wait on Adrian s arrival. There was no point calling him over when he was only two students down, so Jeremy glanced over at Jean instead.
Jean was every bit as messy as Jeremy was, with a few streaks on his cheek where he d unthinkingly tried to get his hair out of his face, but for the first time this class his expression was calm. His foot was off the pedal as he gazed down at his wheel, his hands sitting relaxed and limp a safe distance from his clay. Afraid to mess with his piece any further, perhaps, because Jean had somehow gotten a three-inch cup to hold together.
Oh, hey, Jeremy said, pleased. Nice!
It is a lot of mess for a little thing.
It lacked the annoyance Jeremy expected to hear. Jeremy idly wondered if he was secretly pleased with his progress or if he was just relieved to have finally pulled it off; Jean s face was too guarded to give the game away. Jean turned his hands out so he could consider his palms, and he tried in vain to scrape them on the edge of his bucket. Adrian was in front of him in a heartbeat, offering distracted apologies to Elias and Jeremy as they were temporarily passed over, and he leaned over to inspect Jean s cup.
Nice, Adrian said. Sides look thick enough to hold up in a kiln. Have you checked the base? Jean obediently pricked the bottom of his cup and held up his needle for the teacher s inspection. Adrian was satisfied with the results, and he scooped up Jean s wire for a quick demonstration in the air. Like so, easy does it.
Jean s wire went through the base of his cup smooth as floss, and Adrian stepped back with a proud smile. Great! Go ahead and drop that off on the shelves so it can dry. On the bat, he quickly added when Jean reached for his cup. Good. Find your name tag on the shelves and, if you re feeling up for going again, there are fresh bats in the cabinet right beside it. Good, good. Where was I?
Here, Elias said, waving him over, and Adrian hurried to his side.
Jean lifted his bat from the wheel and considered his cup at eye level. Jeremy thought he heard a quiet, considering Hmm before Jean got up and carried the cup to its designated shelf. Jeremy turned a wry look on his own disaster, but Adrian was by a moment later to help him salvage it. He managed to end the class with one unsteady cup-like object, and he put it with his classmates creations to dry. Maybe it d be funnier at the end of the semester than it was now, when he-hopefully-could judge his progress by it.
Cleanup took longer than Jeremy thought it would, and there was only so much he could do to tidy himself. Jean picked at the spots on his own shirt with an agitated scowl as he followed Jeremy back to Hoffman. Cody was waiting for them out front, and they looked from one to the other with obvious amusement.
I see we had fun.
I think I made negative progress, but yeah, it was great! Jeremy scratched idly at one of his new stains and checked his watch. I m done with classes for the day, so I m going to find a sunny spot to nap for a half-hour or so. I ll kidnap Jean when you re done with him.
Nah, we re good, Cody said, waving him off. I ll get Jean fed and see him down to the stadium on time, so don t rush back. Right? They made finger guns at Jean, who only gave a serious nod. Jeremy was heartened by Jean s easy acceptance of Cody s company, and he returned Cody s grin with a grateful smile. Cody motioned for Jean to get a move on and said, All right, let s get in there before we re late. I ve heard horror stories about this man, and I don t want to start the year off on his bad side.
They headed inside, so Jeremy turned away and considered his options. He really did want to sleep, whether it was on the lawns here or on a bench at the Gold Court, but this morning s run-in with the press meant he should deal with his car first. He walked back to Laila s place alone, went in long enough to grab his travel mug, and drove his car over to the stadium. With that done, he let himself into the locker room and lay down on the strikers bench to nap. It was probably the least comfortable thing he d attempted, but he slept until his teammates arrived.
Raven drills were still on hold, so Jeremy was able to drive all three of his friends home after practice. Someone was waiting on the steps for them, idly tapping a pen to his notepad, but he perked up as Jeremy pulled up behind Laila s car. Jeremy motioned for Jean to stay put but got out and approached the stranger with an easygoing smile.
Evening, he said. Can I help you?
Jeremy Knox, the man said, pointing his pencil up at Jeremy in recognition. Hoping to have a couple words with your teammate. You told my colleague to come back at a more reasonable time, so here I am.
I asked him to arrange something with Coach, Jeremy clarified as he settled in at the man s side. I don t begrudge you trying to do your job, but I ve got to put the safety of my teammates first. Having unknown faces show up at their home at all hours is a little off-putting, don t you think?
The sooner he talks, the sooner I ll be on my way, the man said.
Jeremy followed the man s gaze to his car. Jean wasn t even looking at them; he was looking over his left shoulder toward the backseat. Cat s hands were moving as she talked, and Laila had her phone at her ear. Laila hadn t trusted the police since high school, so he assumed she was talking to her family. Jeremy offered the reporter a conspiratorial smile as he tried to get his attention back.
If you don t mind me asking, how did you even know he was here? We really thought we were sneaky.
Don t ask me. Came through as an anonymous tip.
Oh? That s interesting. Jeremy got only a shrug in response. But I really do have to ask you to leave. First day of school s always a bit of an adjustment, yeah? Everyone s tired and hungry; we haven t even been able to have a proper dinner yet. I can give you Coach Rhemann s number if you want to try and contact him tomorrow for a possible interview slot.
It s three questions, the man said. It ll be faster if he cooperates.
Perhaps, Jeremy allowed, but you re not going to talk to him tonight.
The man shrugged and pointed his pen at Jeremy. How do you see this working out? If you keep asking me to leave, and I keep saying no, then what? I don t imagine you ll call your uncle on me, Knox.
I ve been rude, Jeremy said. I never asked your name and association.
It earned him a cheeky grin. No offense, but I m not that stupid.
Laila got out of the car and came to stand in front of them. She clasped her hands together in front of her and offered the reporter her politest smile as she said, Good evening. I m afraid I m not comfortable with unfamiliar men loitering outside of my house, so I m going to ask you to leave. Preferably before my security team arrives in the neighborhood.
Ah, Miss Dermott. One or two questions for the road?
Do you need Coach Rhemann s contact information? Laila asked.
I ll take that as a no.
He got to his feet, dusted off his pants, and went to where he d parked halfway down the street. Jeremy watched for him to leave before accepting Laila s hand up. He answered her questioning stare with a helpless shrug and, Said the address was an anonymous tip. Wouldn t give up his employer but works with at least one of this morning s guests. Security a real thing?
Gary installed the cameras and alarms around lunch, Laila confirmed, glancing past him toward her front door. And yes, he hired some private security to sit on the house overnight for a week. Hopefully once the press realizes we re serious about not sharing our time they ll give up and we can go back to normal.
She motioned an all-clear to the others, and Cat and Jean finally got out of the car. Jeremy tweaked Laila s hair and asked, Do you want me to stay a while just in case?
I want you to stay , Laila said, with a meaningful look. Good night, Jeremy.
He waited until they were all inside, then got back in his car alone and started the long drive home alone.