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No one moves for a minute. No one breathes.
“Open the fucking door, Foster. Don’t force my hand,” a man calls out, his voice deep with a hint of a Spanish accent coming through. “You have three seconds.”
“Don’t say a word,” Alton threatens, pulling me behind him while nodding at Dad. And like the blind man he is, our father listens, opening the door to a man dressed in a crisp suit holding a gun.
“Evening.” His tone is friendly, yet it’s his eyes that let on to just how dangerous he can be. What he will do if push came to shove. “Thank you for accepting this early morning visit.”
“What can I do for you, Javier?” Alton asks, shifting his body to cover more of me. It has the opposite effect, because I see how this man’s eyes slightly widen at the sight. There’s curiosity there, and surprise, but no hostility toward my persona.
“I’m here to deliver a personal invitation.”
“An invitation?” my dad asks, looking as confused as I am.
“Yes. An invitation.” While this Javier talks, his eyes remain on mine, and yet I don’t feel any distress. It’s clear he is trying to make out my role here. Figure out who I am. Suddenly his phone chimes and he pulls it out, reading something and then answering. “You are aware of who Mr. Asher is, no?”
“Yes,” Alton grits out, once more pushing me further behind him. “What does he want?”
“He requests your presence tomorrow for brunch at the Asher estate.” There’s a slick smile on his face. He’s getting a kick out of how uncomfortable the men in my family are. “Eleven a.m. sharp—we don’t take kindly to tardiness.”
“My father and I will be there.”
“All of you.”
“She has nothing to do with—”
“Are you a Foster, sweetheart?” he asks, ignoring the men protesting.
I’m like a deer caught in the headlights.
If I lie, will it come back to bite me in the ass?
If I say the truth, will I get caught up in their mess?
“You don’t need to answer—”
“The next time you try to intimidate her into not answering, Alton, we’re going to have a very large problem on our hands. She can speak for herself.”
Tensions rise. My brother’s muscles coil tight and like an idiot, he reaches back and that’s when I see a gun. More confirmation to set off my worries. Cements my rush to get the hell away.
The intent is there. Pure stupidity.
“I am,” I say before things escalate further. “I’m the youngest child.”
“Then I apologize ahead of time.” Before anyone can blink, a second gun is in his other hand and he points them at my brother and father. My scream is loud. A natural reaction. “Hands off the weapon, Foster. Place them where I can see them.”
He does along with my father. “Tell Asher we will be there. Tomorrow at eleven.”
“All of you?”
“Yes.” I’m the one who answers. Even if I catch hell after he leaves, I want this over with.
Whatever comes tomorrow, I’ll get past it.
Working is all I have left, and it’s my way out from underneath their thumb.
I just hope that this Mr. Asher understands that I’m innocent. That I’m not like them.
6
