Total pages in book: 77
Estimated words: 73162 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 366(@200wpm)___ 293(@250wpm)___ 244(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 73162 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 366(@200wpm)___ 293(@250wpm)___ 244(@300wpm)
Of course, it’s not Branson’s fault he’s all business. I’m glad he is—he did a great job keeping things running while I was gone. Which is why I’m sure he can keep it up just a little while longer.
To give Branson credit, a genuine smile breaks over his face when he sees me heading his way. He gets out of the Bentley and waves at me. When I get to him he gives me a hearty handshake that I’m sure would be a hug if he was just a little less uptight. Or maybe if I looked a little less threatening.
“Mr. Lowell—Connor!” he exclaims. As my family’s most loyal employee, he’s earned the right to be on a first name basis. Which I have often told him, but he almost never takes me up on it. The fact that he does now lets me know how excited he really is to see me.
“Branson!” I pump his hand gratefully. “Thanks for coming to get me.”
“Of course, Mr. Lowell.” He’s all business again. “Er…I brought the vehicle you requested,” he adds and nods distastefully at the beat-up old pickup truck I asked him to buy.
“Good. Perfect!” I walk around the truck, noting the dents and the dirt. Exactly right. Something Sunny would expect her big brother to drive in keeping with the fiction I’ve built around him.
I couldn’t tell her that Kane was a sociopath who got put away for trafficking sweet young things like herself—as well as moving a shit-ton of Fentanyl and all kinds of other dangerous drugs. And I couldn’t tell her he was rich either—he probably is, but the way he’s getting his money from the outside is still from those twisted activities and I didn’t want to have to explain that to her.
So this is what Kane would drive—the Kane I made up for Sunny. This dented, dirty pickup with faded blue paint and a crooked side mirror on the passenger’s side.
Kane wouldn’t wear what I’m wearing either. I had on a suit when I formally surrendered to serve my sentence. It’s way too expensive looking for the fictional Kane and besides, it doesn’t really fit me anymore. Three solid years of pumping iron has me bigger than I’ve ever been, so everything I have on is too tight.
“You brought the clothes too?” I say, raising my eyebrows at Branson.
“Yes, of course.”
He pulls a Walmart bag out of the Bentley. I’ve never worn anything from Wally-world in my life, but I’m not too proud to wear clothes from there now. Branson has included some work boots too, I see with satisfaction. Perfect.
“You’re absolutely sure you need to go on this, er, errand, Sir?” Branson asks, frowning as he watches me examine the clothes and the truck.
“Absolutely. Oh, here—I won’t need this.” I hand him the Rolex. “Take care of it for me, would you? I’ll get it from you when I finish this.”
Branson pointedly doesn’t ask, “Finish what?” He has an idea of what I’m doing, but he’s too proper to ask for details. He just knows I have someone I want to visit on the way home—someone who doesn’t know me as me, Connor James Lowell the Third.
“How long will you be?” he asks instead. “Would you like Richards and I to follow you in the Bentley so you can ride back with us after your, er, errand?”
“No.” I shake my head. To be honest, I’m not completely sure how long this will take. Not too long, I don’t think. Just long enough to see Sunny in person and have a piece of her famous pie. (She makes all the pies for The Pie Shop diner, as well as waitressing there.)
Of course, I thought about showing up and confessing the truth to her—letting her know how I first started reading and replying to her letters. But again, I was afraid of coming off as creepy. I don’t want that. I’ve built Kane up as the perfect big brother. Well, not perfect but at least someone who’s willing to try. All she knows is that he went in for drug charges but he’s clean now and working hard to stay that way.
I don’t want to ruin the pretty picture I painted for her in my letters. I want to be that perfect big brother—to give her a hug and thank her for her encouragement and kindness while I was locked away. Then I’ll leave her with the happy fiction I created of a big brother she can be proud of—one who’s well along the road to recovering his life.
I’ll even keep in touch…for a while. Then gradually, the letters will taper off. After a while, Kane will move away, leaving her with a nice warm feeling that his life is back on track and he loves her, even though he had to go.