She’d lied. She’d made me feel like shit. But I’d been the asshole. And I hated that I’d made her feel like shit too.
Thinking about shit made me picture the destruction of the Pruitts’ dining room. I shook my head. What a mess. But if anyone deserved to fall through the ceiling on a toilet, it was Isabella. Brooklyn was right about that.
“Are you going to call her?”
I looked up to see Mason leaning against the doorjamb.
“Mom’s already wondering why Brooklyn didn’t come home with us last night,” he said. “You definitely won’t be able to evade her questions if Brooklyn doesn’t show up for Friendsgiving.”
“What do you think I’ve been doing in here all afternoon?” I tossed my phone down on my bed.
“I don’t know? Jerking off?”
“Funny. Brooklyn’s not answering my calls.”
“Huh. If you ask me, she seemed pretty sorry last night. I’m surprised she isn’t answering.”
“Yeah, I know. But I shouldn’t have left her at the Pruitts. And I shouldn’t have said all that stuff about her being like them. She’s probably super pissed off at me.”
Mason shrugged. “No one wants to be compared to a Pruitt.”
I wasn’t even sure that was the worst part. Brooklyn had gone behind my back in order to pull that prank on Isabella. If she had come to me and told me that she really needed to stand up to Isabella, I would have helped her. But Brooklyn must have felt like she couldn’t rely on me. And now I’d given her even more reason to doubt me.
“I’m going to go there and try to talk to her. Can I borrow your car?” I asked and stood up.
“Much better plan than calling,” said Mason. “But I don’t mind driving.”
I laughed. “You’re coming with me? Voluntarily? To the Pruitts’？”
“You said a lot of stupid shit last night. You’re going to need a wingman.”
Fair enough.
“And I’m pretty sure if I stay here Mom’s gonna make me help in the kitchen. And no one wants that.”
Another good point.
Mason slapped my back as I walked through the door. “It’s gonna be fine.”
“Yeah. Maybe we should stop and get flowers though,” I said. “Just in case.” Not that I knew what flowers were her favorite. I’d bought her every type of flower I could find after her uncle passed away. I got it stuck in my head that if I found the right kind, she’d smile. That hadn’t worked. But holding her as she fell asleep in my arms had worked. She smiled a lot in her dreams. Recently I’d been getting her to smile more when she was awake too. And I couldn’t believe I’d stood there yelling at her when all I cared about was seeing her smile.
***
I knocked on the Pruitts’ door. I’d gotten a bouquet of red roses. Sometimes when my dad made my mom angry, he’d come home with a dozen roses for her. If it worked for him, hopefully it would work for me.
Mason gave me a thumbs up.
The bodyguard that always hung around Brooklyn opened the door. His eyes were red and puffy like he’d been crying.
“Oh. Um. Hey,” I said. “Can I speak with Brooklyn?”
He wiped under his nose with the back of his hand. And then held the door open for Mason and me to come in. “Mr. Pruitt’s been expecting you. He’s in his study.” He gestured toward the large wooden office doors.
Okay. “But will you tell Brooklyn that I’m here? Friendsgiving starts in less than an hour and we really have to get going.”
The guy looked like he was about to start crying again. “Just go talk to Mr. Pruitt.”
Before I could ask any more questions, he walked away.
Weird. I hoped he was okay. Brooklyn was always so nice to her security team, but they always just made me feel uncomfortable. Like they hated me for some reason. I walked over to Mr. Pruitt’s study and knocked on the door.
“Come in.”
I pushed open the door and froze. Mr. Pruitt was sitting behind his desk in a wheelchair. His arm was attached to an IV. His face was completely drained of color. Except for his eyes. They were red and puffy just like the security guard’s. He looked like death.
“Matthew,” he said, his voice hoarse like he hadn’t used it in a long time. “There’s been…an incident.”
“What kind of incident?” It was like all the blood rushed to my ears. I could hear my heart pounding.
Mr. Pruitt looked back down at the picture of Brooklyn he had on his desk. “Brooklyn…she…” his voice trailed off as a sob escaped his throat. He tried to reach for a tissue from his desk, but his arm gave out.