Paul's polo shirt matched the suede booth at Henley's. It had been Paul's choice, this swanky meeting spot. They'd shared drinks there together once or twice, which was enough to allow Paul the pretense of sentimentality.

"We had good times in this place. In fact, I believe we've sat in this exact same booth."

"I don't recall. The booth or the good times."

His father eyed him with the wariness of a cat watching the approach of a gregarious toddler. "I simply meant that we spent quality time here together, and that carries significance for me. Father and son bonding time. You must remember."

"Of course, I do." He remembered the place, yes, and the drinks, but not anything to do with the company. That was how most quality time worked with his father. Quality referred to the top shelf brand of scotch rather than the conversation.

Henley's was as good a place as any to meet up, though; he'd let Paul make the selection to give him a sense of control. His father made decisions for a living, mainly regarding Goldie and her career. Jasper needed him to make the decision to tell him what he needed to know, and that would be easier to accomplish with a happy and compliant Paul.

They downed their first round and ordered a second without discussion about anything of consequence. Jasper practiced patience. Just a little longer and he'd be more likely to get Paul talking. Paul beat him to the chase.

"The police are looking for her."

Jasper traced his finger along the side of his glass. "Looking for who?"

"You know who I mean. Have they called you?"

He'd turned off his phone after securing plans with Paul. "My phone died right after I talked to you. I left it behind."

"Behind where?" Paul leaned in like he was about to start an intervention. "Son, if you know where she is, you need to call the detectives. She's a suspect in your sister's death. Why would you want to protect her?"

"Oh, you're talking about Tam." He shrugged. "Haven't seen her."

"You're sure about that? There's a rumor going on that she got into an altercation and that you saved her from it. Obviously, I'm proud of you for that. I don't want any harm to come to her, and I did raise you to defend women."

"No, you didn't."

Compliant Paul. Happy Paul.

"What?"

Shut up, Jasper. Shut up, shut up, shut up. "You didn't raise me to defend women. Or raise me at all for that matter."

"I made mistakes, for which I am sorry. This isn't the time to bring up old wounds."

"You're right, it's not." He forced a conciliatory smile. He'd gotten his jab in and that would have to be enough. "This is hard on me, dad, and it must be hard on you too. Goldie was as much of a daughter to you as I was your son." For as much as that was worth.

"That is true." Paul studied his drink. "It's been difficult. Becca isn't herself. She barely leaves her bed. I'm not sure how to see her through this."

"It might help her if the police arrested Goldie's murderer."

"Yes, of course it would help. That's why if you know where Tam is—"

"Dad, I'm going to ask you something flat out and you're going to need to be honest with me."

"I'm always honest with you."

Even that response was a lie. Jasper swallowed, gave himself a second and went on. "All right. I have reason to believe that the Lucre deal was shady somehow."

"That's nonsense! It's a makeup contract for Christ's sake! If you're talking about animal experimentation, we made sure they never test on animals. That was one of Goldie's biggest requests."

"No, not animal testing. My best guess is it's a money laundering operation."

"You watch too many movies."

"So, you know nothing about this? In your one hundred percent honest opinion, Lucre was a cosmetics deal and nothing else?"

"Yes, Jasper, that's what I'm saying. What more could it be? I never heard of anything out of the norm."

"Okay, then who's Aiden?"

The lines around the lips of his father's aging California sun kissed face deepened for a moment. It was a peek into Paul's future, and his own too, he supposed. Those lines would glare back at them both someday in the mirror. "Aiden? The name sounds vaguely familiar, but then, we worked with a lot of people at Wanton Cosmetics. Perhaps he was a peripheral player in the company. Becca's friend Joellen's daughter married an Aiden. Maybe that's who I'm thinking of."

"Unlock your phone and hand it to me."

The lines deepened. Worry grooved into the skin. "That's an invasion of privacy. Any why do you even care. Who is this Aiden to you?"

The phone lay face down on the table next to his father's hand. Paul palmed it, inching it back from Jasper's reach, but Jasper was faster than his father. He swooped down and pried it away from Paul. "I bet I can guess your passcode in less than a minute. Is it your birthday or Becca's?"

Paul grabbed for it. "Give that back!"

"You're wedding anniversary. Let's try that first." He started punching in the date.

"All right, you win!"

"I win? What do I win, Dad?"

"Give me my phone. I can't recall who this Aiden guy is, but I can check my records. If his name turns up, I'll give you whatever contact info I have."

He held the phone for another moment, a dramatic pause to make Paul believe he had leverage, then gave it back.

"New York."

Paul glanced at him. "What about it?"

"Last time we were here, almost three years ago, it was because you were trying to convince me not to move to New York."

"Right." Paul studied his phone. "Because I would have missed you. It was bad enough when you were away at college. I couldn't imagine having you live so far from us permanently."

Nor could Goldie's fans. The prospect of Jasper leaving, explored extensively on EpiGolds twenty-six and twenty-seven, had tested negatively with viewers. The comments had not been kind. Jasper, it had been discovered then, had more purpose than video production and the occasional cameo, hence Paul's declaration that he couldn't bear the idea of living on a different coast from his beloved son. How could they possibly weather the drop in Goldie's brand popularity if her beloved stepbrother abandoned the enterprise?

"You find Aiden yet?" He asked.

Paul shook his head.

"Keep looking."

#

Light from the hallway spilled into the suite as he opened the door. Slipping inside, he shut the room into darkness again, using the light from his phone to guide him to Tam. He'd helped her move to the bed before he'd left and now could barely discern her form amidst the mass of blankets and pillows.

All the way back to the hotel, he'd imagined this return. In his fantasy, dream Tam had woken before he entered and was sitting up in bed, well rested. The lumps on her head had lessened and her eyes no longer stared at him with sole crushing defeat. He sat across from her and recounted his conversation with Paul and told her not to worry. He'd take care of Aiden. She'd nodded, trusting him to make things right, and then patted the vacant side of the bed. "Did you think I was going to make you sleep on the couch?"

Now, doubt plagued him. It was dark and he shouldn't wake her. She needed to rest. Conflicting medical advice from the internet toyed with him. Some said to let concussed people rest. Don't tax their brains. Others said to keep them awake. He flipped on the soft light on the bedside table. Tam lay on her side, hands reaching under the pillow, hair spilling out over and across her face. He reached out to tuck the hair back then stopped himself. She was asleep. He had no right to her. No right to touch her, even if for an innocent reason.

The lump on her head—the one visible to him from this angle, remained raised and angry, like that bit of flesh had rebelled against her and started a war. The injury needed another icepack, he decided.

Jasper fixed one up with ice from the freezer and a fresh towel, then, careful not to touch her, placed it gently over her forehead. No response from its cold weight. He waited for her to move or made a soft sound, a small ah, or an extra deep breath.

Anxiety bubbled up. He'd been careless again. He'd left someone with a head injury who'd declined to seek medical attention alone in a strange hotel room and now he was too stupid to tell if she'd fallen into a coma during his absence or was simply asleep. Fear pushed aside fear. He removed the icepack and touched the back of his hand to her forehead. Hot. Too hot.

"Tam." He jostled her shoulder. Gentle, then not so gentle. "Tam!"

He got on his knees so he was eyelevel with her. He shook her again. "Wake up!"

Waking up would be great, but he'd settle for any proof that she was alive. He slid his head near her, listening, feeling. And there it was: warm breath feathering his ear. "Tam."

Breath again. Audible this time. A fluttering began under her eyelids. When she opened them, they weren't carefree like in his fantasy, but they weren't hopeless pools of misery either. Something in between, something indecipherable.

"Jasper?"

"You wouldn't wake up."

"I just did."

"It took you a long time. I was--it was... worrying."

"I dreamed I was trapped in a mine. I've been having a lot of underground dreams lately. It took me a while to surface."

His hand still lay on her shoulder. He moved it off, sliding it away from her. She caught it and tucked it back with her own under her pillow. "Sometimes," she yawned, "I can't decide if I'm a good person or not. Maybe I belong underground. That's probably why you dislike me so much."

"That's not why. I mean, I don't—"

"I feel like I've got the world's worst hangover." She squeezed his hand. "It's hard to think clearly. I can't defend myself to you right now."

"You don't have to."

"It feels like I do."

"Probably because you have a fever. I'm going to call the front desk and see if I can get you something to bring it down."

She gripped him as he tried to pull away. "Just for tonight, can you pretend you don't hate me?" She closed her eyes and for a moment, he thought she'd returned to the depths of her imaginary mine.

"I don't have to pretend, Tam."

She smiled. He hadn't been speaking into the void.

"It's a truce, then." She released her hold on his hand, reaching her own up to his face. "You seem tired. And you smell like a distillery. How's your father?"

Paul. He'd almost forgotten what he'd woken her up for. "Shitty. For the same reasons he's always been shitty and now also because of Goldie." The warmth of her hand like a shot of whiskey. Fiery and just as intoxicating.

"Does he know who Aiden is?"

"He claimed not to, but despite that, he had his contact information. So, I did a little digging."

"You did a little digging. Are you a gumshoe now?"

"Maybe. Are you a femme fatale?"

"That fits Goldie more than me. I'm the wisecracking secretary who's actually the one who solves all the crimes." She offered him a wavering smile. "What did you find out?"

"His name is Aiden Park. Goldie had an appointment with him at an office downtown. It was early on in contract negotiations and Paul swears he never met him. Thinks he was probably some low-level grunt on a team of low-level grunts strategizing ways to woo influencers."

"Maybe he was. Maybe they send their low-level grunts out to clean up loose ends."

"Or maybe Paul doesn't know what the fuck he's talking about, as per usual. Either way, I'm planning on paying him a visit in the morning."

"You mean, we are. We're going to pay him a visit."

"No, we are not. Tam, he attacked you!"

She pulled her hand and then her whole body away from him. "I'm going with you. You can hate me in the morning for it but not now. You're not allowed. Our truce ends at sunup."

Sunup. Two strangers drinking at a saloon as tumbleweeds rolled down the street. They'd make nice, and one of them would grasp the other's hand like she wanted much more than a temporary truce. But it wasn't meant to be. They would meet on the dusty road at sunup, guns drawn.

One night of peace with her, spent folded up on the too short couch across from where she slept, was not nearly enough time.

______

They have a name, they have a location. Good or bad idea to go see him? What would you do in their position? 

Thanks for sticking with the story! I'm a bit behind on replying to comments, but please know I appreciate each one as well as every read and vote. You all keep me going!