A Recurring Role – Autumn
A Recurring Role
Autumn
One Week Later
Ryder
How is Adeline?
Send me pictures of what she’s doing at this moment.
Thank you.
O utside of sending me those same daily three messages, Ryder hasn’t said anything else to me since he’s been away.
I’m his employee and nothing more, and a part of me actually appreciates the separation.
With every page that I flip in the binder—every murky detail from his family that doesn’t quite add up—it’s helping me gain perspective on reality.
Helping me see that whatever trance or twilight zone I’ve been in since I met him isn’t real.
“What do you want to eat for lunch today, Adele?”
“One and a half Philly cheesesteaks from Steak Escape, with spicy fries.”
“That’s… very specific.”
“I saw a commercial for them yesterday. I need to see if they taste as good as they look.”
“Your dad doesn’t like you eating fast food,” I say. “Are you trying to get me fired?”
“He likes you too much to fire you.” She smiles. Then she gives me the saddest puppy look ever.
“Pleaseeee, Miss Jane.” She wraps a towel around her waist. “Just one cheesesteak sandwich and spicy fries. It’s right down the street, and I’ll practice the entire time it takes you to get there and back.”
“So, an entire fifteen minutes?”
“Every second counts.”
I hold back a laugh.
“Let me see if the restaurant can…” I stall on the word deliver. “I’ll get it, but I’m taking the scenic route, so you’ll get thirty minutes of practice, and I want it recorded.”
“Deal.”
I towel off and slip into a pair of yoga pants and a sweatshirt. Then I follow Adele down the hall and into her custom practice room, setting up the three pieces that I want her to play.
I refuse to admit it, but I actually enjoy hanging with Ryder’s daughter, and I don’t see it as “work” at all.
When I’m sure she’s set, I slip into the hallway.
“Miss Jane?” A security advisor eyes me as I approach the garage. “Where are you going?”
“To grab some lunch for me and Miss Rochester.”
“Has Mr. Rochester approved it?”
“I don’t see why he wouldn’t.”
He moves in front of me. “Let’s make sure he will…”
I stare at him, waiting for him to make the call, but the look in his eyes makes it clear that this will fall on me.
Holding back a sigh, I pull out my phone and call Ryder.
It rings once.
“Yes?” he answers.
“Adeline is hungry and would like me to go get something specific,” I say. “Can I please leave to get it?”
“The chef can make anything in the world,” he says. “I don’t see why you’d ever need to leave for that.”
“I’m politely asking you to run an errand.”
“I’m politely saying no.”
“Do you honestly think your daughter can’t see that she’s living in a gilded prison?” I ask. “That she never gets to leave and her freedom is only on your terms?”
“We’ll have to play a round of word games another day, Miss Jane,” he says. “I’m busy right now. Talk to the chef.”
He ends the call without another word, but I keep the phone pressed to my ear.
“Thank you so much for your permission, Mr. Rochester.” I smile at the guard. “I’ll come right back and won’t make any other stops like you said.”
I pause for a moment. “Will do, Mr. Rochester. Thank you.”
Pretending to end the call, I return the phone to my pocket.
“Can you get out of my way now?” I ask the guard. “I’ll be back.”
“Someone will follow you from a safe distance. Take the black Jaguar on the farthest row.”
“Thank you.” I move past him and walk through Ryder’s collection until I find the proper car.
Opening the driver’s door, I see that the key fob is sitting on the driver’s seat, waiting for a ride.
I slide onto the seat and push the start button, reversing and then heading up the winding driveway.
When I reach the gate, I glance through the rearview mirror and spot a grey car driving out of the garage.
Holding back a sigh, I coast onto the street and then to the highway.
It’s only two exits away.
Adele
Forgot to ask: Can I have extra jalapenos and spicy cheese?
Sure. You have great timing…
“Can I get extra jalapenos and spicy cheese on that third sandwich?” I ask the cook as he toasts the bread. “Can you do the same thing for the first two, too?”
“Absolutely, Miss.” He nods, and I move down the counter to peruse their cookies.
“The peanut butter caramel one is the best,” a woman says from behind me. “Unless they have the Oreo bits one.”
“They have both.” I smile at her. “I’ll get a couple of each. Thanks.”
“You’re very welcome,” she says. “You should probably savor every bit of flavor while you can. They don’t serve these in prison.”
“Excuse me?”
“How rude of me.” She extends a hand. “I’m Grace Poole. I’m with the ATF, but currently working alongside the FBI. How are you today, Miss Autumn Jane? Feeling good about yourself?”
I leave her hand hanging and stare at her.
With perfectly manicured red curls and nails, she’s wearing thin-rimmed glasses that give me a perfect view of her heart-shaped face. Her light pink button-down shirt is tucked into grey dress pants, and I can see the handle of a gun tucked into her waistband.
“So, I take it you don’t want to be friends?” she asks. “I make a pretty amazing weekend mimosa.”
“Friends don’t make baseless threats against each other.”
“Baseless?” She arches a brow, laughing.
“Order sixty-four!” the cook calls out. “Hot fries with grilled cheese!”
A customer in green suddenly walks past the agent and me, picking up his bag, thankfully halting our conversation.
“Tell me something, Miss Jane,” the agent doesn’t skip a beat. “What is someone like you doing with someone like Edward Rochester?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“You weren’t with him a few days ago?”
“I have no idea.” I move down the counter, but she follows closely. Too closely.
“I’m not sure how you got entwined in his world, but I suggest you untangle yourself and step into reality,” she says, her voice firm. “Otherwise, you’ll be joining him behind bars—in a separate prison.”
“Can you get the hell away from me, please?”
“When you’re ready to tell me what you know, call me.
” She slides a card into my front pocket.
“Preferably within the next three weeks. Otherwise, I won’t be able to make a deal with you.
Right now, you’re looking at twenty years, but if you tell me everything you know, and I like what I hear, I can see that you serve less than two. ”
“Order sixty-five!” the cook calls. “Three Philly cheesesteaks with extras and two large orders of spicy fries!”
I turn away from her and grab my food, rushing toward the door.
I slide behind the wheel of the Jaguar, my heart racing a mile a minute, my mind racing with just how badly I’ve fucked up…
End of Episode 18