Fallen Hearts: Fallen Book 2 (a Boys of Porn novella)

CH 4

Patrick tapped the Bluetooth earpiece and returned his hand to the wheel. "Yeah?"

"You're still answering at this number," Brian said. "What gives?"

"I haven't had time to change it."

"Why? What're you doing that's got you so busy?"

"I'm checking out the old elementary school," Patrick said.

"I thought we voted against that location."

"We may not have a choice. The old rec center just sold."

"What?" Brian exclaimed. "The realtor said we had another couple weeks to come up with the down payment."

"Apparently, they got a better offer. Some corporation, I think. They paid almost twice what we were going to pay—and they paid in full. The best we could've done was eke out payments month after month."

Brian sighed. "Okay, so... what about this weekend? The fundraiser was for the down payment."

"We still need a building—so, we still need the money. The fundraiser will go on as planned."

Following a short pause, Brian said, "The elementary school? That's the south side. Do you think that's safe for the kids?"

"I'm just checking it out. We don't have to commit to anything today."

"Yeah, okay."

The Trans Am rolled through a poor neighborhood of project homes with chain-link fences caging small yards that were more dirt than grass.

"But when you're done," Brian said, "you'll take the time to change your number?"

Patrick craned his head from side to side, stretching his neck. "If I have the time." His pulse stuttered. "But honestly, if he hasn't called me by now, I doubt he will."

"Better to be safe than sorry. You never know."

"Yeah," Patrick mumbled.

The frown on Brian's face came through strong in his voice. "I almost get the feeling you don't want to change it. Are you secretly hoping he will call? You said you wouldn't make the same mistake I did."

"I'm not hoping he will call," Patrick murmured. "And I'm not going to make the same mistake. I'll deal with my number the first chance I get."

Relief seeped into Brian's tone. "Okay. And I'm sorry for hounding you about it. But it just feels like this guy has some kind of hold on you... and that worries me."

Patrick smiled. "He doesn't. You have nothing to worry about." He turned onto a side street. "I'm almost at the school. I gotta go. I'll let you know how it checks out."

"Yeah. Okay. Talk to you later."

"Later." Patrick ended the call and pulled into the gravel lot of the elementary school and parked beside a small white Toyota pickup with a realty logo on the driver's door. Weeds sprouted up across the parking area and the front lawn of the school was overrun with long, dead grass. The windows on this side of the school had been boarded up—in some places, the boards were torn down—vandals, most likely.

Patrick killed the engine and removed the earpiece. "Charming," he mumbled as he climbed out of the car. Still, it had potential. Outside. As for the interior... that remained to be seen.

"Mr. Weber." A short Hispanic woman waited for him at the school entrance. Late-thirties, dark hair tied back in a simple ponytail, inexpensive pantsuit. She shook Patrick's hand. "I'm Maria Lopez. Thank you for being on time."