12. Isolde
Isolde
The name Harry Hallow flashes on my screen.
“Leon’s not going to like that,” Adeline says.
Leon doesn’t like cellphones on his gym floor. He barely tolerates allowing them so people can listen to their music and podcasts.
I slip through the stretchy bands of the boxing ring, my feet tipping to the ground. I pick up the call, waiting to speak until I’m closer to the locker room.
“Hiya.”
“Is this a bad time to talk?” Harry asks with his typical, caring, and serious nature.
“Leon’s,” I reply.
“Ah,” he utters, understanding. “Strict cellphone policy.”
I’ve never once talked to him about Leon’s Gym, but it’s classic Harry. The man knows this city better than almost everyone.
Harry introduced me to some of my favorite coffee places. He knows all the different art exhibits around the city. Of course, he knows Fujimori’s because of his step-mum, and all the other shadowy corners of this place.
Yet, he always smiles as he talks about a spot or an event. He’s a walking, traveling advertisement, the New Yorker with a big heart who likes showing people around.
Harry is endearing in a way that should almost rub you wrong. Except, he speaks in such a frank yet compassionate manner, you can’t help but listen.
There are scars on his wrists. Rough passages in his life that tell of a time when he didn’t see in technicolor. He’s honest and open about his struggles with anxiety and depression.
I know he’d do exactly what Adeline just did for me—act as a nonjudgmental sounding board if I’d let him.
“You all right?” I ask him, the locker room door swinging shut.
“Oh, just cheery,” he says, his voice full of a smile.
“Look, I know it’s last minute, but I’ve finally convinced my brother that he doesn’t need to be a complete wankstain on his birthday.
He’s agreed to do drinks, but because Hadrian is Hadrian, he wants to do it on a Wednesday evening.
I think it’d be really nice if you could come. ”
It’s this final sentence that tells me all I need to know.
“He told you about Fujimori’s?” I rifle through my gym bag.
I prefer going home to shower, so I toss on my clean sweatpants. I haven’t worn shorts since Adeline let me borrow her pair. I’m still not sure how I feel about Luis’s excitement at seeing the ugly, pink scar running down my thigh.
Harry’s hesitation is confirmation. Hadrian is a right arrogant prick most of the time, but his older brother is one of the few who continually sees the good in him.
“I’m not so sure he’ll want me at his drinks.” I’ve been in the city a while now, and Hadrian’s never once celebrated his birthday. Or maybe I’ve just never been invited.
“He’ll want you there,” Harry says with steady conviction.
I finish tugging on my pants and plop onto the wooden bench. Damn Harry for his cheerful goodwill that acts like a harmonizing drug.
“Isolde, I can’t ever excuse when my brother acts like an asshole. But I also know better than anyone that most of the time it’s a defense mechanism.”
“Defense mechanism?”
“He’s worried about you, kid.”
Harry’s not even thirty yet, but he’s got a grandfatherly way about him.
“Come to drinks,” he presses, knowing he’s got an advantage.
I’m still wearing my sweaty T-shirt. It dawns on me I’ll have to look nice, and honestly I’m not sure if I can do that. I don’t really know how. As if my scar can hear my inner thoughts, it starts to tingle. Hide, it seems to say.
But it’s up against Harrison Hallow.
“It’s going to be low-key. Nothing fancy.”
“Nothing fancy?”
Harry laughs, hearing the doubt. “Oh, trust me, Hadrian loves a good dive bar. Can I send you the details?”
He officially pushes past my resolve. “Yeah, all right.”
“No gifts, unless they are tequila shots,” Harry jokes. “Call me if you want to talk and not because you want to cancel. Love you, kid!”
It’s his signature sign-off. The call disconnects, and I see a message from Russ.
Russet: Cookies, yes or no???
There’s a string of treat-related emojis.
Isolde: Do you want me to bring anything else?
She sends me her address and a denial of any additional supplies.
“Hey.” Adeline pushes into the locker room. “Everything okay?”
“It’s Hadrian’s birthday.”
“Hallow, right? We went to the same school.” Her face is perfectly neutral, so I’m guessing she’s trying to be nice about how much of a wanker he was. “He’s a year younger than me, but I know him. You know he and Elijah call one another mortal enemies.”
“I’ve never heard Hadrian talk about Elijah.”
“It’s a huge thing. From what I’ve heard, Elijah was furious when Hadrian showed up in Oxford. They’re several years apart, but he was doing his master’s degree. Lennie said he dated your sister?”
I’m guessing Len got the information from Abe, the group's biggest gossip.
“Yeah.”
Adeline pulls out her gym bag, her face still perfectly neutral. “How’d it happen?”
She’s not asking about Sammie and Hadrian’s meet-cute.
I feel nothing as I speak. I’ve thought about it so much, repeated the story so often. It’s all just fact-based. The one thing Isolde Matheson somehow manages to say.
“A week before she would have graduated, my sister was walking home from a pub. Guy raped her. Strangled her.”
A crime of convenience is how the police put it. Sammie had walked across the guy at the wrong place at the wrong time.
Adeline sits down beside me. “I’m glad you killed the motherfucker.”
A grim laugh tries to come out. I hate the awkwardness when I talk about Sammie’s death, but Adeline’s response isn’t so bad.
“So Hadrian’s got birthday plans?” she asks.
“A dive bar, apparently.”
She outright laughs.
I pick at my workout shirt. “I don’t have anything to wear.”
It’s pathetic. Worrying about my outfits like I’m some teenager again. The Hallows are so proper, though. For once I don’t want to sit there in my trusted tracksuit.
“I don’t think I’m going to go.”
Adeline touches my arm, retracting it instantly like she understands I’m not a touchy person. “Don’t do that. Go.”
“I don’t want to look like a loser.” I know it sounds whiny.
“You’re not a loser,” she says, as if she doesn’t look like a supermodel. “When is it?”
“Wednesday.”
A day away.
“I’ve got a date.”
“Oh, shit.”
Adeline blushes just the slightest, her neck turning red. “No, it’s just a casual thing. The guy's name is Blake.”
“What’s he do?”
“Lawyer. Stop deflecting.” She runs her hand through her hair, like she’s trying to fan herself off. “I’ll be home most of the day, but I’m coming into the city for our date. What if I came early? We could get ready together.”
“But I don’t have anything to wear.” Otherwise it’d be a good plan.
“Good thing I’ve got a shopping addiction. I will bring you not just one, but many options. I assure you, with your permission, I can be the fairy godmother of your dreams.”
I laugh, my chest lifting. “Really?”
“I don’t want to sound like a spoiled rich girl, but I’ll use one of our drivers instead of taking the train so I can lug over every single piece of clothing in my closet.”
“We’re not the same size.”
Adeline touches my arm again, not letting go of my gaze. “I’ve got this. Fairy godmother, remember?”
Her seriousness rings loud and clear. I nod, despite my misgivings. “Okay, I guess I’ll go.”
“Good.” She pulls her hair back into a high pony.
Not many women hang out at Leon’s, so we’re used to taking over the entire locker room. She chats and sings and twirls around for no reason as she dresses. I pull my phone out, bringing up a calendar.
Tristan set it up when Hadrian first hired him. I’m supposed to put any events on it so he can sync his calendar and ensure enough coverage. It’s remained woefully blank thanks to Ren thinking she can cut back my work schedule.
I’m not a fan of my activity being monitored, but I’ve stopped fighting it, and as such I’ll be an adult. I copy and paste the details Harry texted me, even including the bar’s address, into the calendar.
“Coffee?” Adeline asks, slinging her bag over her shoulder. “You can grab something for Russ.”
“I’ve got a spot picked out, if that’s all right?” I finish entering the details and then pull up my notes app. I’ve got a running list of coffee shops I want to try.
“Yeah, of course.” Adeline pushes the door open, coming to a halt.
Tristan is right on the other side, his presence taking up most of the hallway. “You added something to the calendar.”
Adeline glances between us.
“I got invited to something.” It means I don’t have to keep sitting alone in my flat. “Also, I’ve got plans this afternoon.”
Tristan straightens.
I wish his face wasn’t so damn handsome. The molten brown eyes narrow just the slightest as he studies me. His jaw is clenched, but I can’t understand why he’s so cut up about it.
Neither can Adeline. “What’s the deal, Mr. Grumpy Bodyguard?”
He doesn’t bother looking over at her. “You added something to the calendar for this Wednesday. Tomorrow?”
“Yeah.”
“In the evening?”
“Yeah.”
“And today?” he asks. “What’s going on today?”
“I’m going to go hang out with Russet.”
“Zimin?” His voice asks sharply.
My defensiveness grows. “She’s my friend.”
“Where are you hanging out?”
“Her place.”
I begin to type her address into the calendar.
He takes a breath, his body moving for the first time. “That’s not. . . You don’t have to add that to the calendar. It’s fine.”
“It’s the rules, right?” I’ll be damned if he gives me shit for not listening.
“I’m guessing Ren never used the calendar?” Adeline remarks.
Tristan hesitates and then darkly admits, “I just paid attention to her calendar, is all.”
Adeline cocks her head to the side. “Well, now you’re going to have to pay attention to Isolde’s. The woman’s got places to go. Things to do. Drinks must be had.”
Tristan’s muscles tighten at her teasing. “It’s not. . . I’m not.” He lets out a big sigh. It’s kind of nice seeing him like this. Tripping over his words. “I’ve got a conflict, is all.”
“Conflict?” I ask, tucking my phone in my pocket.
“I mentioned I already had some events on the books.”
I nod, remembering.
“That night is one of them. Some big fancy gala my client is going to. I thought. . .” He rubs the back of his neck. “I thought, maybe you’d stay in that night.”
“Oh.” I can see his point.
“Luis’s got you that night,” Tristan explains, “because Antonio is with me.”
Adeline crosses her arms. “And Luis can’t watch over her unless she’s tucked away in her apartment?”
Tristan is silent for a moment, his brow wrinkled. “No. I just would have preferred she’d stay at home, since I’d be away.”
Something fizzes in my belly. Is he being protective or overbearing?
“I’ll be fine with Luis,” I decide.
Tristan’s chest lifts with a deep breath. His eyes have darkened just the slightest.
“Hey, what’s up?” Luis comes down the hall, his gray shirt soaked. He’s his usual, wise-cracking self as he struts toward us, but he stops when he senses the tension. “What’d I just step into?”
You sure about this? Tristan silently asks.
I simply stare back at him.
“Antonio!” Tristan barks. The employee runs over. “Isolde’s got plans tomorrow. I want you to vet the place.”
“Whoa.” Luis blinks. He straightens so fast, he overdoes it and almost tumbles over. “Wait a minute, but—”
“You’re on duty,” Tristan confirms.
Boyish delight washes over Luis. He snaps his fingers, his grin bigger than I’ve ever seen it.
“I’ve got you, cuz!” A second later, seeing how this enthusiasm does little for Tristan’s attitude, he clears his throat. “I mean, you can count on me. Nothing’s gonna happen to Blue, I swear it.”
He winks at me.
“Right, sorted,” I tell the group. “Coffee?” I ask Adeline again. As we start to head toward the door, I pass Tristan. Looking up, since he’s so damn tall, I meet his eye and remind him, “And then I’ve got to go to Russet’s.”