Watch Out for Her, page 18
Totally confused and mad, Holly doesn’t move. She has every right to go to a strip club if she wants to. She tells him so.
“It’s not your kind of club.”
What an asshole. But there’s nothing she can do, since his brawny frame prevents her from accessing the entrance. Maybe if she’d shoved chicken cutlets into her bra and worn stilettos, it would be her kind of club.
She walks back to her bike and checks the tracker on her phone, where the red dot shows that Daniel is definitely still here. Sighing, she’s about to unlock her bike and give up for the night when she notices two stocky men turn into the alley next to Pinky’s. Craning her neck, she sees them walk to an entrance at the back. Then she checks to see if the prick of a bouncer is watching her. He’s not. He’s distracted by someone walking into the club, a tall man in a finely cut black suit.
Holly runs into the alley, straight for the back door, where there’s another bigger bouncer guarding the entrance. It seems like over-the-top security for a run-of-the-mill strip club.
It’s dark back here, so she can barely make out the man, even more intimidating than the bouncer at the front, who eyes her with disgust like she’s a piece of meat stuck in someone’s teeth.
“What are you looking for?” he asks, crossing his thick arms and glaring at her.
“I’m trying to find the service entrance. I’m the new hire. Starting today.”
“Yeah?” the man says, checking her out from top to bottom again. “Wrong door.”
She cocks her head at the door. “This is the entrance, right?”
“The strip club’s up front, honey. This is the entrance to the other club.”
Holly raises her eyebrows. “The other club?”
“Look,” the man answers. “Who’s your boss? That’s all I need to know. Who are you here to see?”
She pauses, considers, then says, “Daniel Goldman,” while meeting his eye.
“Wait here.”
He opens the door and goes inside. She puts her foot in the door to stop it from closing. Looking in, she sees a cloud of smoke hovering above a round table where five men sit playing cards. Ashtrays, poker chips, and money litter the center. All the men turn in her direction, each in an expensive suit, with serious expressions on their bronzed faces. It’s straight out of a scene from a bad Mafia movie, so cliché she almost laughs out loud.
But when Daniel comes out from a room off the side, all her mirth vanishes.
His eyes are so wide she thinks they might pop out of his head. “Holly? What the hell are you doing here?”
Every muscle in her body tenses. Daniel looks more terrified than angry.
“I—I—” Everything she wants to say sounds foolish.
“You can’t be here.” He scrubs his hands over his face. “Just go.”
His tone is harsh. He’s speaking to her the way her dad does whenever she’s supposed to shut up, whenever she’s dismissed. This time, though, she’s not going to let a man tell her what to do. She stands her ground in the doorway. “Why are you playing cards in the back room of a strip club?”
“It’s not what it looks like,” he says as his eyes dart to the smoky room.
“Oh yeah? Maybe Sarah can explain it to me?” she says.
He sighs, his shoulders slumping. “Look, come with me somewhere we can talk more privately, okay?”
She nods and follows him farther into the alley, right next to a dumpster. The rank odor makes her gag, but she holds back the impulse. She feels her pulse quicken.
He turns to her, ire in his eyes. “I don’t understand why you’re here. How did you even know where to find me?” The headlights of a car driving past on Seymour Street flash into the alley for a second. Alarm is written all over Daniel’s face. “Does Sarah know where you are?” he asks.
“No. Does Sarah know where you are?” she retorts.
He looks at her with fury, his jaw set with anger. “You will destroy Sarah and Jacob if you say anything about this. This is adult stuff. You’re a child.”
Her blood boils. How dare he belittle her. Does he really think that’s all it takes to scare her off? An insult? He’s wrong. He’s just another pathetic guy who thinks his three-piece suit puts him on a pedestal, who thinks he can get away with living a double life.
“I’m smarter than you think, Daniel,” she says, crossing her arms. “Which is it? Are you pimping girls or illegally gambling? Or is it both? I just want to get the details right when I tell your wife.” She moves close enough to see sweat start to bead on his forehead.
He bows his head. “Don’t do that,” he whispers. “Please. Promise me you won’t tell her anything.” He lifts his head, his face completely wracked with guilt. “Promise me right now.”
She can’t help but feel a twinge of sympathy. Still, whatever he’s doing is wrong and probably dangerous. Worse—it’s a secret.
“If you want me to even think about staying quiet, you’re going to have to explain,” she says. “If you don’t, Sarah finds out.”
His fists clench at his sides.
“I saw an argument between you and Charlie Lang at the Fieldings’ party. Is he involved with your little side hustle here?”
His eyes bug out. “How long have you been following me?”
“Long enough to know you’re not who your wife thinks you are.”
To her shock, he puts his face in his hands. He’s crying. She’s reduced this grown man to tears.
“I’m not hustling girls,” he says through his fingers. “I just want to be clear about that. This is a business for men. No women are involved. I wouldn’t do that.”
“Well, that’s great. I’m sure Sarah will be delighted to hear that.” But secretly, Holly is relieved that it’s gambling over the other possibility. She starts to put the pieces together, beginning with the argument she heard in the alcove at the Canyon Club, when Daniel told Charlie he was working on something and just needed a bit more time, the cryptocurrency and secret-messaging apps on his hidden phone.
“Here’s what I think,” she says. “You’re in this illicit business with Charlie Lang.”
She waits while he pulls himself together and stands straight.
“How do you know Charlie Lang?”
“Through my dad. He’s a Health ProX investor.” It’s only then that it occurs to her. This might stretch deeper than she thought. “Is my dad involved?” she asks before she can even think it through. Holly isn’t sure she wants to hear the answer, but it’s too late now.
Thankfully, Daniel shakes his head. He looks around the dumpster and lowers his voice. “Holly. I have debts. A lot of them. I’m in too deep now to get out, and I can’t ruin Sarah and Jacob’s lives. I just have to finish what I started, and they don’t ever need to know. Once I’m out, I’ll never go back. You need to stay out of this. You can’t possibly understand.”
But she can. She’s done terrible things, too. Things she’d never want her father or Sarah to find out about.
Just then, something at the end of the alley catches her eye. A flash of long brown waves brushing past the brick wall of the tattoo parlor next to Pinky’s. No, it’s impossible. It can’t be.
Holly focuses her attention back to the broken man in front of her. “Look, Daniel,” she says. “The one with choices right now isn’t you. It’s me. So you’d better start talking.”
CHAPTER NINETEEN SARAH
Now
Tara called my son Jakey, like only Holly ever has. Who is this woman? And what is she after?
I continue investigating Tara’s life. I scroll through her scant list of friends on Facebook, no names that I recognize, and her photos, none of which are of Cody. The bulk of them are of furniture she’s refinished and workouts. Her posts are innocuous and sparse: books, movies, and vegetarian recipes. Next, I look at her groups: yoga, cooking, and home decor. At the bottom, though, is a group we’re both members of—Mother Knows Best, a hugely popular parenting group almost every mom I know is in.
I’ve never posted, but I used to lurk, reading every post I could find about high-spirited boys to get strategies and a sense of camaraderie. I type Tara’s name in the search bar and a few posts pop up. Most advertise her small business—Designs by Tara—and ask for recommendations for pediatricians and dentists in Blossom Court. But one stops me in my tracks. She’s responding to a mother who also has a son with allergies.
My nephew has a severe peanut allergy, so we avoid candy and most processed sugar altogether. We really like carob instead of chocolate. Give it a try!
Nephew, not son. My instincts are dead-on. Tara is lying about who she is. She’s Cody’s aunt, not his mother. So, who are his parents? And where are they? And why is she lying about how she’s related to the boy?
I search all of her posts and photos again for any clue she might have been in Vancouver, knows Holly somehow. I find nothing, but there’s a notification on my feed. When I click it, it’s a post from my brother, Nathan, a Shabbat dinner with my mom and his family at his house in Burnaby.
“Missing my older sis,” he’s commented, tagging me.
I miss him, too. I wish our relationship was one in which I could ask him for advice, but it’s never been like that between us. We never show our weaknesses to each other. We hide everything, from each other and sometimes from ourselves.
The doorbell rings. I freeze, then check the security app to see who’s at the front door. It’s just the moving company with the rest of our stuff from Vancouver.
The truck is huge, and as two brawny men pop open the back doors and release a ramp, I’m not sure I want all of our things from Vancouver here. They’re part of a life I’ve left behind, or desperately want to. Because our rental is furnished, we sold all of our couches, chairs, beds, and dressers from the Cliffside house, so these boxes contain our memories, keepsakes, clothes, Jacob’s toys, and all the photographs I’ve ever taken, except the ones of Holly.
I prop the front door open for them, then stand on the far end of the porch, out of the movers’ way but keeping an eye on them, as they haul things into the house.
Across the street, Ezra’s plain white curtains part, and I know he’s watching me. I just don’t know why. I glance at Tara’s house, which stands empty because she hasn’t been home all day.
Then I spot Emily, who’s walking Roscoe down the sidewalk toward the ravine. Her tutoring flyer said her last name is Lawrence. I might as well check her out, too. I lean against the wall on my porch and take out my phone, flicking my attention between the movers carrying boxes into the front hall and a quick search on Emily. Her website is clean and simple, detailing her teaching degree from Bishop’s University, and glowing testimonials from three very satisfied parents, who rave about Emily’s patience and creativity with their children. Maybe her kind, friendly nature is truly genuine.
I don’t know how long I’ve been standing on the porch, thinking and getting nowhere, as the men walk in and out of the house, when one of the movers approaches and says, “Mrs. Goldman? We’re done.”
I thank them and then watch them slam the doors, get into the truck, and drive off. I head back inside, where the boxes are piled against the walls in the front hall. I don’t have the energy to unpack anything. I just sit in the kitchen, my phone quiet beside me, wondering what I’m supposed to do now that Jacob’s in school all day and Daniel’s at his new job.
I can’t make any decisions about it right this moment because somehow it’s after 3:00 p.m. I need to get to Blossom Court Elementary so I’m waiting for Jacob when he’s dismissed, and I can chat with his teacher about his day. It feels odd that Tara hasn’t texted or called to ask to walk over with me or tell me she’ll meet me at the school after spending so much of the last couple of days by my side. Daniel, too, has texted me only once to check in.
At first, it’s lonely walking by myself past the manicured lawns and large brick houses that all look so similar. But as I stroll on streets named Willow Way and Magnolia Road, I marvel at how safe and pristine everything feels. I’ve got to stop worrying. Maybe there’s a logical explanation for everything. And besides, nothing’s really happened. We haven’t been robbed or assaulted or… worse.
Daniel and the police are right. I’m overblowing everything, reading signs of danger that aren’t real. This realization calms me, and I breathe in the crisp, cool air as I head toward Blossom Court Boulevard. I make a right. There are flashing red lights up ahead.
I run toward the school, where an ambulance is parked out front. Someone is being carried out of the building on a stretcher.
CHAPTER TWENTY HOLLY
Before
“Morning,” Sarah murmurs, yawning, when she walks into the kitchen on Tuesday morning. Her beautiful new hair is a big tangle of knots, and black circles are deeply etched under her eyes. “Did you have a good time at the bonfire last night with your friends?” she asks, and pours coffee from the pot Daniel made before he left for work.
Holly’s surprised he didn’t drink the whole pot. She hardly slept after tiptoeing in at 12:30 a.m., about twenty minutes after Daniel. Once she encouraged him to reveal the huge secret he’s keeping from Sarah, they left the alley behind the strip club and went to another regular bar close by, a hole-in-the-wall where no one would know them. They both ordered Cokes, but Holly could barely drink hers. She listened to Daniel’s story, riveted and horrified. He explained how he went from being a hardworking family man intent on rising through the ranks at work to a man seduced into being involved in running a high-stakes illegal gambling ring.
He’d met Charlie at a casino, where they immediately hit it off. Charlie was the one who recommended Daniel to the Canyon Club membership committee. Daniel didn’t realize why. Now he’s caught in Charlie Lang’s twisted net of illegal games for the wealthiest, most powerful Canyon Club members. And there’s no way out of his debts to Charlie.
“I’m fucked unless I can pay Charlie over half a million dollars or recruit more members into his gambling scheme.” He fell back against the scratched black leather seat. “You can’t tell anyone, Holly. I’m begging you.”
“You can’t tell me what to do, Daniel. I have the advantage here. I don’t know what I’m going to do yet. I need to think about it.”
He looked at his wedding ring, his face twisted with guilt and worry. “I love my family more than anything, but I’m in too deep. There’s no way out except doing what Charlie wants. If I can just see things through with Charlie, I’ll find an off-ramp. And then I’ll never get involved with him again. I swear.”
“You swear? So your promises still mean something?”
He sighed. “Yes, they do. What is it you want from me, Holly?”
“What I want is for you to find every fucking way—and I mean that—to make Sarah feel better about herself, because you’re living a lie and you’ve ruined her life.”
“Of course I will. But why is this any of your business?”
How could he not understand? “Because I’m part of your family now.”
He kneaded the space between his eyebrows. “No, you’re not. You shouldn’t get involved. Please just pretend you never heard any of this.”
“I can’t, Daniel.” She couldn’t possibly let another dark, shameful secret ruin her life. The Goldmans were her only chance to have a real family. And that knowledge was her trump card. “You need to do something for me.”
He looked scared and pressed himself further against the booth.
Holly leaned over the table until there were only a few inches of space between them. “You have to convince Sarah to hire me as your live-in nanny. Not just for the summer. I want to stay for the long term.”
He balked. “How long?”
“Forever.”
“Holly—” He held up his hands in protest.
“If you don’t, I’ll tell Sarah and the police everything you’re doing with Charlie. You’ll lose Sarah, and you’ll go to jail.” She tried to maintain her composure, but her pulse was racing. Both from the ultimatum she issued, and her future in the house that was so close she could almost touch it.
His face drained of color. “You wouldn’t.”
“I would.” She wasn’t sure she could ever hurt Sarah that deeply, but he didn’t need to know that.
It worked, because he closed his eyes and nodded. “Okay. I’ll do it.”
As angry as she is this morning over Daniel’s deceit and stupidity, he’s still a dad, a man who loves his wife and his son. And that revelation makes Holly feel torn about the threat she delivered last night. When they were finished talking, he tossed her bike in his trunk and drove her back to Cliffside Road because he didn’t want her riding alone in the dark. They timed it so they wouldn’t walk in the door at the same moment if Sarah was up and could see them.
Then this morning Alexis sent her a terse text.
Alexis: Going camping with friends at Roberts Creek. If you care.
There’s so much to keep track of, too much Holly feels bad about to know what to do first. She texted Alexis back, but it isn’t enough to make up for flaking on her so many times lately.
Holly: Have fun! Love you. I promise to see you when you get back.
There was no response. And she doesn’t want to outright lie to Sarah now about the bonfire she was supposedly at last night, but how can she answer that question honestly? All she says is “Mmm.”
She feels sick and confused about what to do next. If Daniel keeps his promise to her, she gets exactly what she wants: to stay with the Goldmans. But she also has to help Daniel before he tears his family apart. He can’t escape Charlie until he brings more men into the gambling scheme or pays off the almost seven figures he owes Charlie. It’s an impossible situation… unless Holly can fix it.
Now, though, she has to focus on Sarah. Everything Holly does is for her. She’s lost one family; she’s not about to sit around watching while her new family gets slowly dismantled.
