Chapter 3 #2
Rae had secretly wondered whether Brody was truly a competitor at heart, despite his fanatical desire to win whatever race he entered.
Sometimes, when they had been alone and bonded at heart level, she had suspected racing merely framed his passion in modern terms, joined him with other like-minded fanatics, and offered a reason to soar on canvas wings.
Brody had arrived at the perfect moment, at least as far as young Rae had been concerned.
She was gradually recovering from the crushing loss of Curtis, her first love, after he had left the Crystal Coast and their lives had taken different courses.
Rae accepted that she and Curtis were not getting back together, their promises of lifelong love sundered by currents and forces beyond their control.
And there, in the bleak months of growing acceptance and moving on, Brody Reames had entered her world.
Brody’s hair was naturally copper-brown and with constant sun and salt went almost white blond.
Brody had always been fit, muscular, and cautious about his habits.
Though they earned none of the public accolades or money, ocean racers held to a professional athlete’s fitness.
He had the clear thousand-yard gaze of his ocean breed.
His tan was a permanent fixture. Rae tried to imagine him as he might be now.
So many of the guys she’d grown up with had aged incredibly fast. It was the risk of living in paradise.
Diving into the bottle, the pipe, the pills, the lines.
As a result, with far too many of the men her age, their expressions plowed deep furrows, the eyes went dull, the body became flaccid and slow.
When she opened her door, Rae found herself relieved that at least this one guy hadn’t lost his edge. “Hello, Brody.”
His smile was the same as well, revealed mostly in his gaze and how dimples appeared even when his lips scarcely moved. “Hello, Rae. Thanks for seeing me.”
Lana did not actually drool, but her gaze certainly suggested more than the fleeting interest of a happily married lady. “Are you sure I can’t get you something?”
“I’m good, thanks.”
Lana’s smile carried a mischievous glint. “Mr. Reames was admiring your artwork.”
He tapped the frame. “?‘Dance Me to the End of Love.’ I have it on my living room wall.”
“Get out of town.”
“I’ve loved it from the first time I laid eyes on it.” But his smile was gone now, his gaze sad. He started to say something more, but in the end just touched the frame a second time and turned away.
Rae found herself wanting to confess how she had recently become tempted to take it down, tear the print from the frame, and burn it.
There was too strong a hint of all the dances she had not seen to the end, or had ended before she was ready, or stopped before the music really started. She merely said, “Come on in.”
There was a new stillness to Brody, a trait she found even more distinct than the way he did not fully smile.
The easygoing nature had certainly been erased.
Whether it was a temporary result of the troubles that brought him here or something more permanent she could not say.
Either way, the stillness marked a deeper element. She asked, “What can I do for you?”
Brody did not so much sit in the chair as crouch. “My mother is getting a divorce. Knowing my father, it’s bound to get very messy, very fast.”
That was as far as Rae let him go. “I’m sorry. I don’t handle divorces. Not even for existing clients.”
“My mother already has a divorce attorney. I know because I asked.”
“Then why are you here?”
Brody repeated, “I know my father.”
The man’s utter stillness, combined with that ocean-horizon gaze, was eerie. “And?”
“He’s going to do something unexpected. Vile.
He will be after a triple dose of revenge.
First, for Mom leaving him. Second, for the shock she’s inflicted.
Third, for the way she’s shattered his oh-so-perfect public image.
” Brody might as well have been reading last week’s weather report for all the emotions he showed.
“There’s only one way to stop this from becoming a disaster for everyone involved.
And that’s if a counterattack is already in place.
A response of such overwhelming force, he realizes to move forward would result in a second dose of public shame.
” Brody nodded slowly. “He’ll back down.
Pretend it never happened. Go quiet, at least for now. ”
Rae found she needed a moment to process.
She had never met Brody’s father. In the nine months of their wildly passionate fling, she had heard numerous people, including Emma, speak about both his parents.
Her aunt referred to Brody’s dad as the little dictator .
Olivia, Brody’s sister, had been five years ahead of them in school.
They had only become friends when Rae returned after her law studies.
Olivia and her mother were two branches of the same blooming tree, quiet and opinionated and patient and strong.
Olivia had never, not once, spoken about her father.
Rae rose, crossed to the connecting door, and asked Lana, “Who’s up next?”
She already had Rae’s calendar on her screen. “Blythe Dixon. Titles and such for their current new build.”
“Call her and ask if I can pop by later.”
Lana’s smirk resurfaced. “Shall I start a file?”
“Not yet. Maybe. We’ll see.”
“Oh, goodie.” She lifted the phone. “You kids play nice.”
When she turned back, Rae felt her legal face settle in place.
It was time to be all business. She took her time positioning a chair close to Brody.
She wanted him to see clearly how barriers were about to come down, whether he liked it or not.
She accepted that the threat Brody feared could very well be real.
The question she needed answered had to do with motive.
Rae asked, “Why are you here?”
“I don’t understand. My father—”
“I’m not asking about that. Your father has to wait. First, I need to know who my client is.”
Brody was dressed in what Rae considered a big-city take on sailing garb.
Navy cotton trousers with a sharp crease, half-zip matching sweater with a logo she didn’t recognize, shiny black lace-up walking boots that could well have been designed by Coach.
His hair was trimmed, his eyes clear. But the man’s stillness took on a new element. Rae was pretty sure he actually winced.
When he remained silent, Rae pressed, “I met with your sister earlier. She was asked what you did, your job. She had no idea what to say. Why is that?”
Brody’s lips parted, but no sound emerged.
“Do you understand why I’m asking? I can’t involve myself in anything that even hints at illegality.”
“It’s nothing like that.”
“Then why—?”
“I don’t like talking about myself.”
“If you want me to consider accepting you as a new client, you’re going to have to do just that.” Rae thought his expression could best be described as that of a deer in headlights, one second from impact. “Who are you, Brody?”
He rose, crossed the room, stared out the sunlit window. “Where did you see my sister?”
“We’ve been friends for years. We met today for a coffee at the hospital cafeteria.”
“Then you know.” Brody directed his words to the side window. “Olivia and Mom were the strong ones in our family. They stayed. They remained intact. I couldn’t do that. Even before I was old enough to understand, I knew if I stayed around, I’d be lost.”
Rae started to instruct him to return to the topic at hand, then decided to watch and see where this stranger was headed.
“Olivia protected me when I was little. Mom’s done it all her life. It’s my turn now.”
“Your sister doesn’t want you involved. Neither does your mother.”
Brody glanced over. “I realize that. It’s why I’d rather they not know I’m working with you. If I’m wrong, as far as they’re concerned, our discussions never happened.” He turned back to the window. “But all that is secondary to protecting them when Dad strikes. Which he will.”
“Come sit down.” When he remained stationary, standing with his face bathed by the winter light, she decided not to press. “Same question. What do you do professionally, and why—”
“I’ve spent my entire life hiding. I started wearing a mask at home. It defines me. Dad didn’t even know I was racing until my team won the Bermuda challenge.”
Now they were getting somewhere. “When was that?”
“I’d just turned seventeen. He read it in the paper. Local boy does good.” His features might as well have been carved from the light. “I waited weeks for him to say something. He never did. Just started watching me differently.”
She said it again. “Brody, please. Sit.”
This time he obeyed. “You remember anything about me and math?”
Rae started to deny it, then: “I remember how you poured over wind and tide charts. You were always scribbling. I asked. You made a joke about it.”
“It’s always been my second love. I don’t even remember when I started fooling around with math puzzles and online challenges.”
Rae reached to her desk for a legal pad and pen, just to give her hands something to do. “So. Math.”
“Applied mathematics. Working those charts was how I got accepted into the big winning boats at such an early age.”
“And now?”
The furtive look, the stonelike expression, the fear, all returned. “Is this absolutely necessary?”
“Do you want me to represent you?”
“It’s not a question of want. My mother and sister need—”
“This goes way beyond semantics,” she countered. “If you want my assistance with a legal matter, I need to know what you do, and how you got there.”
Which was both true and not true. But still.
Brody took a long breath. Released it slowly.
Again. And he told her.