Disclaimer: See Chapter 1
A/N: THANK YOU so much to all who reviewed. It really encouraged me to continue. Tell me what you think of this chapter !
45 minutes later, Tristan still sat in utter shock. Of all the gin joints in all the world… 'Well that explains the familiarity' he thought, shaking his head in wonder. As he sat and listened to her conversation with Randy, the gunman, he wondered what had made her pursue this career over journalism.
"What is your favorite thing about living in Raleigh?" she asked.
"My family." Randy answered quietly. "That's why I'm here."
"What do you mean?"
"My son, he has leukemia- has had it for three years. We've done everything we can to pay the doctors bills; we've taken out loans, and I work three jobs, but somehow we never seem to have enough. And now yesterday we got a notice in the mail saying if we didn't make a minimum payment of $4,000.00 by next week then they are going to take away everything: our house, cars and my business."
Rory could feel his anger rising as he paced back and forth. She racked her brain for a way to calm him down as he ranted and raged on.
"What more could I possibly do? How much can one man take until he breaks? So guess what? I'm not leaving here until the bank does something. I don't care how long it takes, who they have to fly in from where, or if they have to get the president of the bank himself. I'm not leaving and neither are any of you."
Just then the phone rang again. Randy looked over at it in irritation.
"Why don't you answer it?" Rory asked, " they might have found help."
He walked over to the phone and picked it up.
"What?"
"No, that's not good enough! No! I won't let anyone go. Not until they listen to me! I don't care if he's in China. If he's the only one who can make that call then get him here NOW!" And he slammed the phone down.
Tristan flinched as the phone right above his head was slammed so hard he thought it was gonna fall over onto his head. 'Yikes' he thought. Seconds later, his phone in his pocket started vibrating in his pocket. He flipped it open and saw a text message from his sister asking where he was. He quickly typed a reply explaining the situation and she soon answered telling him that she was on her way over to the bank to wait for him outside. Switching his phone to silent, he returned his attention to the negotiation where Rory had Randy almost convinced to let them go.
"Can I ask you a question?"
" Can I say no?" he answered irritably.
"Not really." Rory said with a small smile.
"Didn't think so."
"If you came here to get and extension on your loans and to do something about your foreclosure, why did you ask for a plane ticket to Mexico and a limo to the airport?"
"Seemed like a good idea at the time," he said, " the president of the bank is in Mexico somewhere on vacation, and I guess I figured I'd go down there and give him a piece of my mind or something…."
"I'll be honest, Randy, I've never been in your situation before. But what I do know is that this current situation will not be beneficial to you, your family or your son. And, I would be willing to be that we could work something out with the bank if you calm down and release the hostages. After all, it's not their fault, you know? How would your son feel if he knew you were endangering other people's lives to try to save his?"
'She's so good' Tristan thought ' how does she stay so calm?' 'Amazing'
Randy slowly lowered the gun he had been waving as he paced and began to cry softly, muttering something that Rory couldn't understand.
One by one, Rory rushed the hostages out the front door of the bank to safety. She saw a tall blonde man come from behind the teller's counter towards her. 'Smart guy' she thought. ' But I feel like I know him from somewhere…huh. Beats me.' But as the blonde walked by her he squeezed her elbow and whispered, "Nice job, Mary."
She was about to say thanks when it registered in her mind what he had said. Her head whipped around only to find a crowd of policemen and EMT's coming toward the doors to get the rest of the hostages and arrest the gunman. She stood stock-still as they rushed through the doors and past her. She lost sight of the familiar head of blonde hair she hadn't seen or even thought of in years.
'Could it be?' she thought ' Surely not. Why would Tristan Dugrey still be in North Carolina after all these years? Must have been a coincidence right?'
But as she walked out of the building into the harsh sunlight she doubted ever her own thoughts, for when she reached into her pocket for her keys she found a white business card that read:
Tristan Dugrey
Attorney- at- Law
In bold black letters. She flipped over the card, and on the back he had written. Had written a number and a short message. Long time no see, Mary. Call me and we'll catch up. T
'Well,' Rory thought, 'So much for coincidences'
