She rubbed her shoulder with a wry smirk, shrugging while glancing to the left.
“Oh, I don’t know; what excuse should I use this time… I know!
Heh, I got a f-fly strip stuck in my hair—and, uh… on the way back I s-spilled a—umm, my smoothie on my… “No, that’s not right,” she huffed between stutters, eyes rolling as she thought of another angle.
“Honestly, a friend thought it w-would be funny to spill a smoothie on my head… Yeah, that’s a g-good one, huh?
It was all for fun, of course,” she sarcastically chuckled.
“I know what it must look like—I’m totally crazy—huh?” Howie let a low hiss blow through his teeth.
“Good one… Your friend spilled a smoothie on your head as… a joke?
And if something like a fly strip got stuck in your hair, obviously, being the ‘thrifty’ girl you are, you wouldn’t go to a hairdresser… like three months ago with the gum?” Sora backed into the corner, tight gut and pent-up tension easing as she talked to the frowning man.
“That’s what happened—at least, that’s what Dr.
Hallmark would have everyone believe… But good n-news!” Closing the double doors and taking out the key to lock them inside so no one could interrupt them, Howie crossed his arms.
“Are you going to slide past everything else?” Mary’s conversation suddenly sprang to life in Sora’s mind; she pivoted to the conversation.
“Wait… Mary—did she…” “Yeah, Sora…” he said with tight eyes.
“I heard about you being taken off your pills by Dr.
Jernigan, and after she interviewed all of the hotel staff, everyone started to see that everything we were told had been a lie… Why the hell would a doctor—multiple doctors—do that to you?!
The lawsuit coming once your dad is back in town… It doesn’t make sense.” Trying unsuccessfully to hold back tears as he confirmed Mary was on her side, Sora sucked in her trembling lips.
“So… s-so… you b-believe that I’ve been—I’ve been bullied f-for the past—the p-past three…” She couldn’t get the words out before Howie nodded and moved in to bring her into his arms as liquid fell from his own eyes.
“Yeah, Sora… Ron and I always suspected there was something else going on but… I’m sorry, Sora.” “N-No—it’s just… Thank you for always listening, H-Howie… I’m going to—to get my dad to h-have me homeschooled… My meds?” “Dr.
Jernigan told us to have you taper off the antipsychotics with one pill rather than two, and we’re reducing the others too.
Don’t worry, we’ll eventually get you off them… She seemed to really care about helping you, Sora.
She’s trying to follow up on all the inconsistencies in your files… She asked us so many questions.” Sora let out a nervous chuckle.
“My, heh, friend isn’t a p-professional at cutting hair, h-huh?” “No…” Sora felt her laugh escape her, and she just focused on breathing.
Letting out her emotions for several minutes, hope filled her breast.
Thankfully, everything was changing, and so rapidly—three years—after so many people who would cave to whoever stood behind Kari.
Her father finally found the right woman to help her—one who actually wanted to help her.
Frank was right: there were people out there that would help.
Howie supported her for several minutes until she could get her tears under control, making her feel secure in his big arms.
He input her penthouse ID for the forty-eighth floor; her eight-year-long elevator attendant sniffed before clearing his throat and saying, “I hope you know that I’ll be texting your dad about this one… They won’t get away with everything they’ve done to you, Sora.” Cheeks already puffy, Sora tried to laugh through her building emotions again.
“You don’t h-have to!
He’ll be here in eight days… He can see f-for himself.” Howie’s lips pursed as he scrutinized her again, lower lip pulled in.
He’d known her since she was eight years old—without a doubt, he’d call him the moment she left.
“You don’t need to go to school—probably ever, after this…” he trailed off as Sora choked and shook her head, rubbing her wet cheeks.
“I have to—at least for t-tomorrow… Wendy m-might be targeted if I don’t go, and… and you know how much her mom h-hates me.
I’m a strong girl—I can handle this m-much with you, and… and…” She smiled, for the first time in what seemed like ages; it felt real as she held up her arm and flexed.
If she had people to believe in her, that was all she needed, and if all she had to deal with was Lori, she could do that.
“With t-things changing… I know it may b-be a pipe-dream, b-but I want her to join me—i-in homeschool—is w-what I mean.” Howie tried to reflect her positivity, but she could see the hurt, shame, and anger he tried to hide, which saddened her.
“If… you’re… I know how much Wendy means to you…” Sucking in his lips for a moment, he choked, “I’d love to see that happen.” The elevator dinged at her penthouse, and Sora exited into the foyer, waving Howie off and feeling on cloud-9; she really was free.
Spinning in a circle as she entered the hallway, she tried to calm her racing heart while studying the extravagant living space.
Her father was friends with the hotel’s owner and had purchased it ten years ago at a bargain price, a deal made possible by his connections.
It was a three-story, ten-thousand-square-meter penthouse with a contemporary design around Bubinga wood.
It featured close-to-seven-meter, double-height ceilings, with expansive views of the ocean and the Miami Beach cityscape.
One of the selling perks was the car elevator and massive garage that could house 11 cars—her father was a car guy and filled every spot.
There was also an on-premises restaurant, lobby bar, fitness center, cigar and wine lounge, and east and west pools, with many more entertainment options.
She had the whole penthouse to herself while her dad went around the world on business—often for many months at a time.
Several international companies paid him very well for his consulting services, but he always made time to come home on major holidays.
There were also times when her father hosted extravagant parties in the penthouse, and while growing up, she’d had a rather amazing caretaker who set up all sorts of fun activities for Wendy and her to do.