Free This Life: A Novel by Maryann Reid Page A

Brett and Matt both decided on prime rib, french fries, and
coleslaw, and Blake opted for a Vietnamese beef salad.
    While they waited for
their food, Matt turned to Brett and asked, “So you met Ms. Bertrand back in Miami ? What brings you to New York ?”
    Brett laughed. “You’ve
got yourself a thorough bodyguard, Blake.”
    She smiled, but Brett’s
comment troubled her a little. He’s talking to me like Matt isn’t here. Like
he’s “the help,” someone who should do their job and be ignored. “I was
going to ask the same question, Brett. You said you were off to a great start
in Miami real estate. How did
you end up here?”
    “Oh, I grew up in Harlem .” Brett leaned back in
his chair, perfectly at ease. “I did get off to a great start—so great I earned
a vacation already. So I’ve come home to visit family and friends for a couple
of weeks.”
    Blake looked Brett
over. He was dressed all in Prada. You’ve got to do well to afford that.  
She smiled again. “Well, congratulations.”
    “Thanks! I’ve been wondering—everybody
is wondering—what plans are you making for the Wishman Spears?” He leaned in
for a confidential talk, and Blake shared an outline of her ideas.
    Meanwhile Matt tapped
away on his smartphone, seemingly okay with being left out of the conversation.
Blake glanced at him often, not really happy with how Brett behaved toward the
bodyguard. Matt looked up once and gave her a thumbs-up, so she trusted that he
was comfortable.
    Their food arrived, and
apparently all three of them were ravenous, because they barely spoke a word as
they ate. Amanda Brown was rocking the house, her fans and Vault regulars
enthusiastically breaking it down on the dance floors. “This is the best night
I’ve had in a long time,” Blake said, thinking out loud.
    “Let’s make it even
better.” Brett stood up, finished eating except for a few fries. “Come on, let’s
dance.”
    Matt looked up from his
plate, watching them. Blake asked him, “Will it make your job too hard if I
dance with Brett?”
    “Nah. I’ve worked
dances, concerts, sports championships, you name it. Go have fun.” Matt gave
her a thumbs-up again.
    She let Brett lead her
to the center of the dance floor. He was quick and elegant on his feet, had a
great sense of rhythm, and sensuous moves like no man Blake had ever known.
Trying to keep up with him soon tuckered her out, especially after the rough
afternoon of self-defense training she’d done with Suki. Her muscles ached in
protest, but her hormones screamed for her to impress Brett or die trying.
    Blake lost all sense of
time. She slipped away from Brett when she noticed how late it was getting, and
didn’t want Amanda to leave without getting to her. Amanda Brown took the
microphone and announced, “Ladies and gentlemen, it’s been a pleasure to sing
for you tonight at the Vault! Please put your hands together for my amazing
band. On lead guitar—”
    “I’ve got to try to
meet her,” Blake managed to say, breathing hard. She rushed back to their
table, where Matt sat tapping on his smartphone again. “Matt, come on, let’s
find the back door the band will exit through. My best friend is a huge fan of
Amanda Brown. I’m going to get her autograph for her.”
    Matt shook his head. “Sometimes
you forget who you are, don’t you, Ms. Bertrand? You don’t have to lurk outside
any back door.” He beckoned their waiter, passing by on his way to another
table, and said, “Hey, Tim, Ms. Bertrand here would like to ask Amanda Brown
for an autograph. Can you ask for a meeting?”
    “Sure! I’ve got to go
downstairs to the kitchen anyway. I’ll ask the boss.” Their waiter scurried
away to the staircase.
    Blake slumped into her
seat at their table, catching her breath while they waited. Amanda Brown and
her band had left the stage, and the roadies were packing up amplifiers and
microphones and the drum set and all. Somewhere out of sight, a DJ took over
musical