Alpha Incorporated

IV - viii TO VEIL FULL PURPOSE

Isabella had never seen the open ocean before this morning. But now, as she stands on the balcony, arms resting on the railing, overlooking the grey waves, she watches the white crests of foam rise, then collapse as the surf breaks. She takes in the orange sky, washed in streaks of purple and blue and believes that she was meant to be near the sea. She is also beginning to believe she is meant for something else too.

From the third floor deck, Isabella spots Fryer talking to an couple walking down Padaro Beach. They appear to be older and their small white terrier seems fixated on the sticks that toss and roll with each sliding wave. William—Fryer wants her to call him that now—can't possibly know them, she thinks, yet he convulses in a belly laugh, like they have been friends forever. Maybe he does know them, after all. He has a few contacts down here in Santa Barbara, like his friend who owns this beach house. She sees William give the couple a friendly wave good-bye and continues his walk back to the house. His khakis are rolled to just beneath his knees, his white long sleeve shirt, half-buttoned, one hand carrying his sandals, the other, a bag of takeout. Tamales, she hopes; Isabella has never tried a tamale before.

"Hey, Meester Fryer. What do you have in the bag?" Isabella's poor attempt at a Mexican accent brings a smile to William's lips. His dirty blond hair, loose and blowing in the evening wind, flies in front of his eyes as he looks up to meet her gaze. Right now, bathed in the warm orange of the setting sun, she admits that she has never seen such a gorgeous human. And, knowing that she will again be sharing an evening, a night, and another day with William Fryer, she feels as though the waves crashing on the beach are washing her in a bath of gratitude, a pang of nervousness, an ache of regret, and a flicker of hope.

A lot has changed since they left the laneway behind Angelo's mansion, early this morning. After hearing Mariana explain how she, most likely, had led Angelo to believe he had strangled Isabella to death, Fryer quickly improvised the next steps. Isabella would need to leave the area, and stay hidden. First, he thought he would put her up in his weekend place, the apartment he keeps in Russian Hill. That would buy them some time to decide what Isabella wanted to do about Angelo. Fryer assured her that returning to her intern position didn't matter anymore; she had a more important role to play now.

"You need to consider legal action," Fryer said after they dropped off Mariana that night. "I don't want to give you any advice, other than you need to find out what your options are, then, with the help of a good lawyer, you can decide what course to take." And that was the turning point. Because, when he snapped his fingers and turned the wheel to head South, rather than North to San Francisco, it was like he was struck with a sudden and brilliant idea. He said, joyfully, "I will come with you. We will go to Santa Barbara."

Had any man, especially an older man, someone who she first met less than a week ago and who remained very much a mystery to her, told her that he was taking her, without any consideration of her feelings, just taking her away to a strange city for an undetermined amount of time, without anyone else knowing where she was going, without any communication—well, she would have refused and, most likely, if she could, she would have jumped out of his car at the first red light, and ran. But she didn't. She smiled.

As they drove Highway 1 along the coast towards Santa Barbara, William told her about a friend of his, someone with whom he had spent a lot of time when they were younger. Isabella learned how Fryer's friend, Ryan, a surfer dude and coffee barista on South Beach, recently married a bright lawyer named Amelia. Her and her law partner Jake run a small firm that is, as he put it, not under the influence of Alpha. "All the Valley and San Fran firms are too close to someone at Alpha. Remember, we are just looking to get you some advice, not to start a media frenzy."

Isabella didn't mind. It meant that they drove and talked and laughed, and stopped at scenic lookouts, and saw dolphins, and ate ice cream and listened to music, and she learnt about Beck in the 1990's. She told him all about her home and how the shore of Lake Ontario is nothing like this, and how she never knew a sea lion wasn't the same thing as a seal. And when William pulled the car into the drive of the beach house on Padaro Lane, her mouth dropped. She realized that the next couple of days would be spent in this modern, three story architectural wonder of glass and wood on the beach of the Pacific Ocean, and that she would be spending it with the man for whom she knew she was, deeply and quickly and most certainly, falling for.