Chapter 390: Coyle Apartment

Tuesday, February 7th, Morning

A shrill alarm cut through the black fog of sleep. An arm reached out from the covers and started to search for their smartphone. Frustrated by not finding the smartphone, the arm reached back under the covers and threw them back.

A short, slight brunette sat up in the bed and looked around the bedroom. Her brown eyes registered shock and confusion in the strange room around her. Looking down, she noticed she was now wearing a strangely broken in blue t-shirt. At least she thought it was once blue, and the screen printing has faded. She vaguely made out that the screen printing was a crown.

Climbing out of the comfortable bed, she looked at herself in a full-length mirror. Slowly, she ran her hands down her sides, smoothing the shirt down. She finally noticed the t-shirt was a Columbia University t-shirt. As her hands reached her hips, she felt she was still wearing her panties, which was good.

Fallon let out a sigh as her smartphone started going off again. Looking around the modestly decorated bedroom, and found her clothes neatly folded over the back of the chair. Her pocketbook sat on the dresser. Fallon walked over to the dresser, pulled her smartphone out of her purse, and silenced it.

She sighed and looked around the room; where the hell was she. How did she get here? Where the hell was here anyway? Did she have anywhere to be today? Fallon reached up with her hands and smoothed back her hair.

"This had to be one hell of a story," Fallon said.

The door opened; Fallon turned to face the door as Grant walked in the room carrying something. Fallon tilted her head at Grant; he nodded passive-faced.

"Good morning," Grant said.

"Morning?" Fallon asked.

Grant nodded, "Yes, it's morning," he said.

"Okay," Fallon said, confused, sighed, and looked up at Grant. "How the hell did I get here? Never mind that, where the hell here is anyways?"

"You're at my place, well actually, my parent's house," Grant said.

"That only answers half of my questions," Fallon said.

"You passed out in the UBER last night, so I got you here, and my mother put you to bed," Grant said.

"The shirt?" Fallon asked.

"My sisters," Grant said.

"Sister? You have a sister?" Fallon asked.

"Had a sister," Grant said.

"Oh god, I'm sorry, what happened?" Fallon asked.

"It was years ago and not pretty," Grant said.

"Oh, I'm sorry," Fallon said.

Grant nodded, "I brought you some towels and robe to shower," he said.

"You didn't have to," Fallon said.

"My mother insisted," Grant said.

"Okay," Fallon said.

"After the shower, we'll have breakfast in the dining room," Grant said.

"I could take breakfast with your family?" Fallon asked.

"After you shower and dressed," Grant said.

"Give me a minute," Fallon said.

"Bathrooms, through that door," Grant said and pointed.

Fallon started to pull the t-shirt off. "Umm!" Grant said.

"You've seen this before," Fallon said and held out her hands, showing herself off.

"Umm, I didn't undress you," Grant said.

"Then who did?" Fallon asked.

"My Mother," Grant said.

"Well, then, okay, let me shower and get dressed, then," Fallon said.

"Okay," Grant said and left the room.

Once the door closed, Fallon pulled off the t-shirt. Fallon grabbed the towel and went to the bathroom, and found the shower. After the shower, she went out into the bedroom. Fallon sighed as she walked over to her clothes. Fallon shook her head and sighed again, she didn't like the walk of shame look, but today it has to go down like that. Fallon slowly dressed in her clothes, pulled her hair back in a ponytail, and held it back with a hair tie from her pocketbook.

Fallon left the bedroom and wandered through the house to find the dining room. Sitting at the table was an older woman, impeccably dressed; the woman's hair had long since gone silver, and the look looked good on her.

The woman turned and looked at Fallon. "Ah, Dear, I see you've wakened and showered; please join us for breakfast," she said.

"Thank you, Mrs. Coyle," Fallon said.

"No need to be formal here, Dear, please call me Eulalia," Mrs. Coyle said.

Fallon nodded, "Yes, Ma'am," she said.

"Please, have a seat, eat," Mrs. Coyle said.

Fallon nodded and took a seat. "You seem perfectly fine with having a strange woman sleeping under your roof," Fallon said.

Mrs. Coyle nodded, "Dear, I have three kids, two of them were precocious, and you're hardly the first stray that has ended up in my house," Mrs. Coyle said, "At least you here because you were exhausted."

"Oh, I see," Fallon said.

"You were the nicest dress though," Mrs. Coyle said, "They strike me as House of Davis."

"Cheap knock offs I'm afraid," Fallon said, trying to lie.

"They look good on you, and we all can't come from means," Mrs. Coyle said.

"Thanks, I try my best," Fallon said.

"Uhmm," Mrs. Coyle said with a nod.

Grant entered the dining room and walked over to his mom; he bent down and kissed her on the cheek. He straightened up. "I've seen you've finally formally met. How are things going, Fallon, Mother?" Grant said.

"Swimmingly, Grant, now either join us or leave," Mrs. Coyle said.

"Yes, Mother," Grant said and took a seat across from Fallon.

"So, Grant, this is the young lady you met at that party on New Year's Day?" Mrs. Coyle asked.

"Yes, Mother," Grant said.

"I would've expected her to be bigger, like Alex," Mrs. Coyle said, "You've always liked tall women."

"I'm the smallest of my sisters," Fallon said, "I just got the runt gene."

"Mother, Alex, and I were never going to happen," Grant said.

"Alex is such a nice young lady; she seems to have come from a good family," Mrs. Coyle said.

"I wouldn't know, Mother. Alex never talks about her family. Anyways it would be unprofessional for me to date a client," Grant said.

Mrs. Coyle tutted and turned to look at Fallon. "You mentioned you have sisters; Dear, how many?" Mrs. Coyle said.

"I have four sisters and a brother," Fallon said.

"Where do you fall in the order, Dear?" Mrs. Coyle asked.

"I'm third; I have two sisters older than me," Fallon said.

"Interesting; where are you from?" Mrs. Coyle asked.

"A small town in North Carolina, it's called Tree Hill," Fallon said.

"Tree Hill, how quaint," Mrs. Coyle said.

"Yes, there's only one Tree Hill, and it's my home," Fallon said.

"I see," Mrs. Coyle said, "What brings you to New York?"

"College, I went to NYU," Fallon said, "For business, and also got my MBA from Columbia."

"My daughter attended Columbia," Mrs. Coyle said, "Were you a scholarship student?"

"You went to Columbia?" Grant asked, "You never told me."

"Never asked," Fallon said.

"So, what do you do for a living?" Mrs. Coyle asked.

"I work at the Stafford Foundation," Fallon said and looked at her non-existent watch, "Speaking of which, I've got to go, or I'll be late."

"I'll walk you out," Grant said.

Grant and Fallon stood up and left the room. Mrs. Coyle reached for her smartphone and dialed a number. After a moment, she smiled. "Janette darling, Comment vas-tu, mon ancien colocataire? … Oui, oui, c'est la vie…No, all business, but please can be business too, as you know, and as business can be pleasurable. Yes, still as bad as I was back then. So, the reason I called is; do you have a young woman named Fallon working for you?" Mrs. Coyle asked on the phone.