Page 7 of Hunter
Trent tuts as he hands his cell over to his father. A few years ago, some asshole tried taking shots of George’s personal designs. Ever since, he has made it a rule to never allow cameras or cell phones inside of the shop. He’s the best in the business, as well as discreet and extremely trustworthy. My family has been using him for years.
Louisa barely acknowledges me and Trent but offers an award-winning smile to his father before bidding us all goodbye. I can’t help but feel annoyed at being offered the same courtesy she offers Trent. I don’t suppose my insulting her style helped matters but unfortunately, it needed to be said. Trent was right when he said it would be highly unlikely that he would date someone as demure-looking as her.
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“I’m taking you out to a few upmarket places tonight,” I tell Trent, who is being measured for a decent suit. “Places which serious people attend, not teenagers looking to get wasted in a nightclub. There’s usually the odd reporter trying to find out if any dodgy dealings are going down in the business district, so one of them is bound to catch you behaving more maturely than they are used to. You will wear a suit and not get drunk; is that clear?”
“As day!” Trent salutes me.
It strikes me, that like most child stars, he’s never actually grown up. He’s still a rebellious teenager looking for ways to get mommy and daddy’s attention. Doing well in his career has always been a given, so Trent’s had to find other ways to get noticed. For Trent, this is behaving like a spoiled asshole. Something his parents need to nip in the bud so their little prince can keep earning the big bucks.
When I look at the clock in the small fitting room, I notice it’s nearly six already. Time always seems to be flying by in the wrong direction for me. I curse silently, then pay George, informing him that we’ll be back to pick up Trent’s new wardrobe within the next few weeks. In the meantime, I’ll have to take Trent back to my place and loan him one of my many expensive suits.
I reach into my pocket to grab my phone to see if Theo has left yet. Of course, this is when I remember that Louisa has it.
“Shit!” I hiss through my teeth.
“What’s up?” Trent asks coolly. If I’m not mistaken, he’s starting to warm up to me, as if seeing me like some sort of big brother figure.
“I gave Louisa my phone; she will have gone home by now!” I run my hand through my hair, feeling extremely irritated by my own stupidity. “Look, we’ll go back to mine, and get ready. I can use my spare cell to track where the other one is. We’ll have to swing by her place first. My life is inside that phone, and I won’t rest easy till I get it back.”
“I ain’t going to some church group or something,” Trent states with a frown that I simply ignore. Now that RIP’s finished for the day, Trent will actually have to drive himself. “I mean it, Daniel! Someone like that is bound to be at some happy-clappy sing-along or something!”
“Shut the fuck up, Trent, and just drive,” I sigh at the same time as I punch the location of my apartment into his Sat-Nav. He grumbles but pulls out into the building traffic that is only going to slow us down even more. I guess it’s going to be another late night for me.
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After Trent and I had changed, we got back inside of his fancy sports car, which he can’t drive at all well, and turned on my spare cell to try and locate my normal one. Staring at the tracker app, I find myself frowning because it’s not making a lick of sense. It’s been moving for a while but has finally stopped somewhere out in the desert. I’ve rarely travelled out that way, but from what I do know of it, it’s not exactly known for being the most salubrious of places. Dear God, I hope she wasn’t mugged.
“You found out where the nun is yet?” Trent asks as we head further out of the city.
“I have a location, yes, but I’m not sure it’s where she is,” I tell him truthfully, pursing my lips in thought. “I’m wondering if she’s been mugged or something.”
“Shit! Why?” He turns to me with actual concern, though I’m not entirely sure who it’s for.
“Says it’s out in the desert,” I explain, to which he pulls an expression that’s as confused as I feel. “Come on, all we can do is check it out.”
“Have you tried ringing it?”
“Of course, Trent, I’m not a total idiot,” I sigh as we make our way through the now free-flowing traffic. “Let’s just see where it is.”
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Trent eventually pulls up to where my tracker has stopped, and when we take a look outside, we’re even more perplexed than before. In front of us is a dusty-looking building with about two dozen motorcycles lined up in front of the wide windows that give a good view of the inside. There’s no obvious sign, but it’s fair to say it’s a bar of some kind, and heaving with gangs of motorcyclists.
“Your tracker must be warped, Hunter, there’s no way your meek and mild PA is in there,” Trent mumbles as we continue staring out through the windscreen. “She’d have a heart attack just looking inside of a place like this.”
Studying the clientele, I can’t help but agree with him. Far from the business district where people are usually dressed in designer suits and boring shoes, the people inside of this place are covered in dirty denim, leathers, wifebeaters, ripped t-shirts, and with every inch of skin practically covered in tattoos. The guys are hairy and look as mean as the angry images that are inked up and down their arms. The women don’t look any more approachable; in fact, I think I’d take my chances with the guys than with some of the girls in there. This is certainly not the place you would expect to find someone like Louisa Flynn.
“I don’t know about this, man,” Trent says with fear in his eyes, “we’re gonna stand out like a couple of pricks in a convent!”
He is absolutely right but I need my phone, so I’m going in, with or without him.
“I’ll go by myself then, you can stay here,” I tell him before opening the door and climbing out.
“No way are you leaving me by myself,” he flusters as he rushes out of the car with very little grace. “We go in together and don’t even think about leaving me alone, otherwise I’m cutting your commission.”
“Fair enough,” I smirk before heading in through the door.