Page 148 of Broken Brothers

After last night, it seemed all too possible.

When I finally did get back, I got stopped by the front desk guy, someone new who didn’t recognize me. Though a quick phone call solved the issue, I still felt it surprising that I would get stopped… but then again, Chance Hunt got those privileges, not Chance Givens. Chance Givens drew suspicion wherever he went. Chance Hunt drew special treatment, or at least no bad treatment, wherever he went.

I opened the door to the apartment and heard nothing.

“Layla?”

A closer step in told me that she was in the shower, perhaps from having just finished a workout.Wouldn’t you like to join her?

I did, but I wouldn’t.

I went to my cell and looked for my missed texts. I had none, which felt a little frustrating and saddening that perhaps my friends didn’t go very far beyond what once was with Morgan and some former lovers.

But it was one missed call that left me curious.

It was a phone call from the only Hunt left that I trusted.

61

“Mrs. Hunt?”

I hadn’t even called Melanie Hunt, my adopted mother, when I uttered her name. It just felt so… surreal to see her name. She just didn’t call us.

She spoke to us and was very warm to us when we saw her. But it was as if Edwin had made a specific request to her not to speak to us when we were gone. She was like the angel in the shadows, there if we needed it but largely invisible no matter what.

Well, heaven knew I needed as much of an angelic presence as I could get. Mrs. Hunt could sure go a long way in providing it. I called her back, and she picked up on the first ring.

“Well hello there, young Chance!” she said.

“Hi, Mrs. Hunt, you called?”

I knew she never liked it when I called her anything other than Mom. It was my way of keeping some distance from her, of reminding her that I was not of this family and didn’t deserve anything other than to be called Chance, not son. Still, she was definitely the second-favorite of the Hunts behind Morgan, andhad now clearly vaulted so far ahead of Morgan it was like comparing two different podiums.

“I did? I was not aware! But it would still be good to see your face! I will be in Manhattan in an hour, would you like to grab some coffee?”

“Uhh… sure.”

Not aware? What kind of bullshit is this?

“You do know you called me a little bit ago, right?”

“I swear, the way my mind goes sometimes… no, I did not, Chance, but we will get into everything you want to talk about when I see you, OK?”

This was very unlike Mrs. Hunt, who had a way of saying things through subtlety and through hints, not like this. It almost made me wonder if she had a reason for specifically seeing me in person instead of on the phone. As if… as if she didn’t want to say them on the phone… because someone might be spying on it? Or tapping it?

“OK, sounds good Mrs. Hunt. Joe’s Latte at 60th?”

“Perfect, hun. See you there at 1 p.m.!”

I quickly glanced at the clock to see I had about fifty eight minutes to go before that time. I went back to the phone, but Mrs. Hunt had already hung up.

To say that was odd behavior for Mrs. Hunt was all too simplistic but also all too accurate. What was the deal?

The questions brought back my feelings of disgust, once more, with Edwin Hunt. I just knew now, having hung up the phone, that that asshole had tapped his wife’s phone and recorded all calls. That motherfucker was probably listening in to everything about her, trying to get some dirt on her.

It’s the only way he can ensure that he doesn’t get cheated on. Heaven knows there’s nothing attractive about him aside from his money. And a lot good money is when it’s attached to a fat, shitheaded pig like him.

Still, it would be nice to hear from a trusted, loving family member. The only trusted, loving family member.