“Yeah…Um…I think I’m actually going to have to give you a rundown of the past ten years or so of changes in the music industry to explain why that role is crucial to what we’re doing. So, yeah. Get cozy.”
So, Skye got cozy, holding her pen at the ready and hugging the Brennan-scented phone against her cheek. “I’m all ears.”
29
LAKESHORE, NEW ORLEANS
Gazing out the window of Brennan’s fancy car as they zipped along a wide boulevard, Skye almost couldn’t believe her eyes. The houses were palatial. The lots seemed to go on forever. The lawns were bright emerald green. Meticulously sculpted bushes stretched high into the sky. Every car on the street and in the drives were as shiny and fancy as the one she was currently in.
She cast a glance at Brennan, who wore a pensive expression, half-hidden behind dark sunglasses. His slate gray suit was perfectly tailored and perfectly accented by a black tie, and a crisp, white shirt. He looked like a million bucks; like he would fit in just fine with the mansions that lined the street, but then again, he was from here. He also looked like a nervous fucking wreck as he bounced his leg the entire time during their drive to his parents’ house.
Skye reached across the car to slide her hand over his thigh and squeezed it. “Try to relax, Brennan. It’s going to be okay. And you’re going to feel a lot better once you get this over with.”
He nudged his shades up the bridge of his nose and then chewed his thumbnail, remaining quiet as he continued to stare ahead.
“Do you want to talk about it? Maybe you should practice what you’re going to say on me.”
He sucked in a breath and blew out a puff of air. “I think I’m gonna fuckin’ puke.”
“That’s okay.” She rubbed the back of his neck. “If you puke, I’ll hold your tie out of the way and wipe your mouth when you’re done.”
His shoulders rose and fell under the weight of another deep breath, and he leaned across to kiss her cheek. “You’re a sweetheart.”
She smiled. “So did your mom prime your dad for this conversation at all?”
“Uhh…” He raked his fingers through his hair. “I doubt it. She probably told him I needed to talk to him about something. Which he would of course take as anything. So I’m just going into this prepared to get sucker-punched.”
She raised her eyebrows. “Would he really do that?”
Brennan shrugged. “He might.”
Her brow crinkled. “Has he ever hit you before?”
He gave a quick, sardonic laugh. “No, but I’ve never done anything this stupid before.” He glanced at her, obviously gathering the comparison she’d drawn, and picked up her hand to kiss it. “Doesn’t matter what he does. I’ve already decided on a game plan.”
“Have you?”
“I have.” He eased to a stop at a light and looked at her. “And it includes you and your predicament.”
She lifted her brows. “It does? What is it?”
Brennan reached in front of her to open the glove box, slipped out a pamphlet, and held it against his lapel as if hiding it. “I haven’t been sleeping much, Skye.”
She’d noticed. She didn’t know exactly what to do about it other than offering comfort in the form of a romp around in the sheets—which obviously didn’t help him sleep. So, she slept and hoped it would help by simply not disturbing him. “I can imagine you might not be.”
“Yeah, so I’ve been thinking a lot. I realized now that I know exactly what you’re dealing with, I’m better equipped to help you figure out where you need to go. So, I did some Googling and talked to some folks at the church I went to as a kid, and I found something I think would be perfect.” The light changed, and he accelerated. As he did, he held out the pamphlet to her.
Skye took it from him and peered at it. The words Destiny House scrawled across the top in sweeping, pink calligraphy. Destiny House was one of the names from his notebook, and he’d obviously been putting even more work into this than she’d noticed.
“They’re in Las Vegas,” Brennan went on, watching the road. “They offer a free, year-long program for women trying to escape from the sex industry. They offer trauma counseling and vocational training, and they do customized case management for each person. They said everyone who completes the program leaves with a vocation and employment, and they help find them a safe and affordable place to live. It’s exclusively run by women, many of whom are survivors of exploitation themselves.” He pointed at the pamphlet. “I found a bunch of places that could help you start over, but this one’s the best.”
The crinkle between Skye’s brows returned as she flipped through the pamphlet. The facility was beautiful, clean, and well-maintained. The directors and staff were lovely-looking women with kind faces.
Her heart started doing cartwheels. It was perfect. It couldn’t have been more perfect if she’d rubbed a lamp and asked a genie.
Skye turned to Brennan with bleary eyes and a trembling chin, and he quickly glanced at her before turning his eyes back to the road.
“Oh, honey.” He picked up her hand and kissed it. “I think you’re the sweetest thing I’ve ever seen.”
