Page 42 of Hard and Brutal


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The other man chuckles, clearly enjoying my distress.

“Well then you obviously know what you need to do,” he tells me with a raised eyebrow. At my silence, Bruce stands up. “Go and get her!” he gestures. “What the hell is wrong with you? It’s just a misunderstanding. Who cares about your ego? Just go!”

I stare into nothingness as I consider his advice. Even if Ramona is pissed about my meeting with Melody, she has no right to just shove me out of her life like this. Determined now that she owes me an explanation, I stand up quickly.

“Bruce, I’m assuming you can handle the meeting this afternoon without me?” I ask him as I walk to the coat rack to grab my jacket.

“You’ve got it, boss,” Bruce responds easily.

“Good,” I nod. “I’ll catch up with you tomorrow then.”

Seconds later, I’m on my way to the parking garage, glad that I drove myself today instead of having to wait for a chauffeur. I climb into my McLaren and rev the engine. Before I leave the garage, however, it occurs to me once more that I don’t know where Ramona lives. Every night we’ve spent together has been at my penthouse, and she has yet to show me her place.

I glare straight ahead as I consider my options. Deciding that my best shot may be to get this information from someone at her office, I start to wind my way through the busy Chicago streets.

Once at Concord Design, I head immediately to Ramona’s cubicle, half hoping that she’s at work. But as expected, Ramona’s desk is barren-looking. Frustrated, I crane my neck across the room to see if there’s anyone aside from Melody who might be willing to assist me.

“Mr. James?” a surprised voice startles me from behind. I whip around to see who it is. “What are you doing here? We don’t have a meeting, do we?”

Oh, it’s Carrie, I realize with some relief. I’ve interacted with Ramona’s co-worker a few times. She looks remarkably like my girlfriend, although Carrie’s not quite as lush.

“No, not today. I’m looking for Ramona,” I say as neutrally as possible, hoping that Carrie isn’t the type to pry.

“Ramona? Um, Mr. James…” the woman looks away for a moment, clearly unsure. “I don’t know how to tell you this.”

I feel my heart turn over, panicked that something may have happened to the woman I love. “What is it?” I ask more tersely than I mean too, but unable to control my emotions.

“Ramona isn’t here because she quit last week.” Carrie tells me softly, her own face contorted with unhappiness. “I’m so sorry if our boss didn’t think to inform you, but it was a bit of a surprise to all of us. It happened out of the blue.”

I process this information quickly, wondering what to make of Ramona’s obviously rash decision to leave her job, especially when things had been going so well.

“Carrie,” I say gently, “I need to find Ramona. She’s not answering my calls and I’m worried about her.”

The woman stares at me with suspicious eyes, perhaps trying to weigh how much information she should share with me. Finally, she sighs heavily.

“Honestly, Mr. James?” she says, leaning in a bit closer. “I’m worried, too. I’ve gone by her place once or twice, but she refuses to see me. She’s always indisposed, according to her. I have no idea what that means,” she adds.

I stare at her.

“Carrie, I’m not sure if Ramona’s mentioned it, but she and I have known each other for a long time. Maybe I can get to the bottom of whatever is bothering her.”

The woman thinks for a moment. “I think you might be exactly the person she should talk to.” Carrie grabs a sticky note from Ramona’s desk and jots down a few details. “Here’s her address. Will you tell her to call me when she’s over this “indisposed” thing? Please?”

I slip the paper into my jacket pocket. “I will,” I promise. “Thank you for your help.”

A few moments later, I’m sprinting to the elevator, ready to find Ramona and get to the bottom of this strange situation. What the hell? Why is she giving Carrie the runaround too? This is getting more and more weird.

A short drive and a lot of cursing later, I find myself in a rather rundown neighborhood. Fortunately, there’s a spot right where I need it. I bring the car to a halt directly in front of a rundown brick building with cracked sidewalks out front, and climb out of the vehicle. The day is cool and crisp, and I pull my jacket tightly around me as I hit the buzzer for Ramona’s apartment.

No answer, I growl to myself. But as luck would have it, just as I’m about to give up hope, one of her neighbors exits the building. I wave a quick thanks to the older man for letting me in and make my way toward the stairs.

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