“Not my audience.”
“But they will be one day, right?” he asks. “You are going to Harrison U for Law?”
“I am. Though why would you think that’d move me in the upper echelon of the Harrison elite?” I ask before fully realising what he just revealed.
“Because no one in the Vale wants to stay in the Vale,” Tom responds honestly. “The way I figure it, you’ll work for a fancy firm, make your name and some money and then decide whether you’ll walk away from the lifestyle you’ve earned to do pro bono shit for the underdogs or stay uptown and snatch up the acclaim.”
He’s had time to think about his response. “Too much daytime drama for you,” I mumble, but I’m wondering how he knows my plans and when he found out.
“Probably,” he admits, nodding to the wall-mounted TV playing talk shows silently in the background.
“How did you know I had a place at HU?” I ask softly.
“Common knowledge?” He shrugs and avoids my eyes. It’s cagey as hell.
“It shouldn’t be. Unless you heard it from one of the guys who tried to snatch me at the cafe?” I suggest, leaning back in the chairto feign calm when my nerves are going off like fireworks under my skin. If he is telling the truth and no one visited, then how the hell would he know?
Tom rockets upward, leaning towards my chair, eyes wide with surprise and concern. “Someone tried to snatch you?” he barks, then winces and clutches his side. He’s a talented liar, or he genuinely didn’t know. I can’t tell which it is, and that means I can’t trust him either.
I shrug, playing it off. “Meh, tried and failed. So how did you know about HU?”
He stares at me for a moment, as if wondering whether to tell me. When he eventually makes up his mind, one word comes out. “Sylvie.”
“But you said…”
He sits back against the pillows, slower this time and being deliberately gentle with his wounded left side. “She wasn’t here. I didn’t lie.”
“Then how?”
“She messaged me. Said you were heading out to an interview and asked if I knew where so she could come and surprise you. Something about commiserating or celebrating, depending on how it went.” He shrugs but only down his right side, suggesting he’s hurt himself more than he’s letting on.
“How would you know where my meeting would be?” I ask.
“Exactly what I said to her! No one tells me anything these days. I told her to call Ben. He’s got his nose in everything. If there’s something happening at Trevainne, Ben will know when, where, who, and how it will affect him.” Tom says this as if he’s cautioning me about his friend, but is his warning in my best interest or his? It speaks poorly of the brotherhood Ben and he supposedly share, but then Ben barely trusts Tom too. I wonder what could have come between them to spark such distrust?
None of these questions help and neither does Tom’s response.From my experience with Ben, I’m certain he’d have overheard Aiden and Dax’s plans for me, but would he tell Sylvie or anyone else? Is he the leak? No, why save me if he set up the snatch? Sylvie then? Did she find out and warn someone else? Why? How would she even have contacted Franz?
None of this makes sense. More importantly, Trainor sold me out. He admitted it.
So, why do I even suspect Ben or Sylvie at all?
Because something about all this is off. Like bad eggs and week-old garbage, it stinks.
I ask a follow-up. “Have you heard from her since then?”
“No.”
My stomach sinks. If she arrived after I ran, if she actually found out where to go, could she have been taken instead? I drag my phone from my pocket and message both Aiden and Dax in a group conversation.
Might have an issue. Sylvie’s not at the hospital. She might have tried to meet me at Deja Brew yesterday.
Ben just called. How do you know she came to the coffee shop?
Tom, she asked him where I’d be.
Why?
Asking myself that same question.
