by Megyn Ward
I think about that summer. The mess he made of her. How hurt Tess was. How confused. Declan wasn’t there. He didn’t see it. He didn’t care enough to look. “No, I really don’t.”
“I did what I thought was best for her.” He sighs, shaking his head. “At least that’s what I told myself. The truth is, I left her because I loved her too much.”
“In what fucked-up world does that even make any sense?” I say, but something about his admission hooks me. Makes the hairs on the back of my neck stand up.
“She was too good for me.” He says it quietly, brow furrowed, eyes glued to the table between us. “As soon as she figured that out, she was going to leave me.”
“So, you left her first.”
“I couldn’t...” He shrugs, sitting back, finally raising his gaze to meet mine. “I couldn’t live knowing that. Waiting for her to leave me behind. Not knowing when it would happen—just that it would, eventually.” He smirks, but the expression is cold. Void of humor. “I’m not sure if you know this about me but, I have control issues.”
“You know Con planted those underwear to fuck with you, right? The washer at the garage was broken, and she needed to wash a load—that’s it. That’s all that happened,” I say, throwing him a bone because I suddenly feel sorry for him. “Con needs Tess too much to pull his usual fuck-and-run on her, and he loves you too much to try.”
“Yeah,” he says, shaking his head. “But he doesn’t love me enough to forgive me for what I did.”
“You hurt Tess,” I remind him. “The only reason you’re still walking upright and eating solid food is because he does love you.”
He doesn’t have a comeback for that one. Probably because he knows I’m right.
“Do you love Jessica?” It’s none of my business, but I want to know. I have to know that the pain he caused Tess was worth it. That he learned something. That at least one of them was able to move on and be happy.
He looks away from me, his jaw set. “I deserve Jessica.”
Before I can tell him what a fucking idiot he is, that he isn’t the one who gets to decide what he does or doesn’t deserve, his phone rattled on the table between us. It reminds me that I left my own at home.
Dec picks up his phone and swipes his thumb across the screen. What he sees causes his face to fall into a frown.
“What is it?”
Declan sighs, leaning to the side so he can shove his phone into his pocket. “That was Con,” he says, sliding out of his seat. “Sara’s dad is at the bar. He’s looking for you and Cari.”
Fifteen
Patrick
I’m pissed. Really pissed.
I don’t buy for a second that Jackson Howard is at Gilroy’s waiting to talk to me. This is some sort of bullshit Con and Declan cooked up to keep me from beating Templeton to death. Because the only way those two can work together is if they’re working to fuck with me.
I jerk the side door open and step inside, the sudden change from light to dark blinds me for a moment, and I stop just inside the doorway, waiting for my eyes to adjust.
When they do, I see Jackson Howard sitting at a long table in the middle of the bar. Sara is sitting next to him. On his other side is an older woman I’ve never seen before.
Cari is sitting across from them with Conner, waiting for me. In front of her are the keys she left behind in James’s office.
Declan steps behind the bar to help Tess deal with our usual crowd of day-drinkers and lunch-eaters. I give a fleeting thought to leaving the two of them in such close quarters, unsupervised. Figuring Declan can handle himself against a girl who weighs as much as one of his legs, I leave it alone.
As soon as I approach the table, Jackson stands. “Thank you for meeting with me,” he says, holding out his hand for me to shake. On the table in front of him is a copy of the lawsuit Lisa filed against me.
“Sir,” I say, taking the hand he’s offering while flicking a quick glance in his daughter’s direction. Her face is blank. Hands folded and laying on the table in front of her. It makes me nervous.
Jackson releases my hand and sits. “I’ve received a copy of the law—”
“You don’t talk to him,” Con says leaning across the table, just close enough to make the older man uncomfortable. “And you don’t talk to her.” He tilts his head in Cari’s direction. “Anything you have to say to them, you say to me.”
“You’re the cousin, right?” Jackson says, recovering from his earlier discomfort.
“Right now, I’m the motherfucking lawyer.” Conner sits back in his seat with a grin. He’s still wearing his garage coveralls. His hands are stained with grease and engine dust. The tattoos on his neck and arm, peeking out from his cuff and collar.
“Is that so?” Jackson gives him an indulgent smile. Con could’ve proclaimed himself a wizard and generated more belief.
Reaching into his pocket, he pulls out his battered wallet. Sifting through a stack of punch-cards and numbers scrawled on scraps of paper, he produces a set of IDs. His Massachusetts Bar Association card and his Harvard Law diploma card. “Sure, the fuck is,” Con says. Tossing them both on the table, he shoots a wink at the older woman. “What’s your name, sweetheart?”
The woman blushes and opens her mouth, but Jackson holds out a hand to stop her from talking while he studies Con’s credentials. “I’d hoped we could handle things amicably,” he says, sliding the cards across the table.
“Amicably?” Con says, mouth crooked in a half-smile. “One of your junior partners colluded with Lisa Parish, a convicted felon I might add, to file a false lawsuit against Mr. Gilroy.” He held up a finger with Jackson opened his mouth. “And then, this same junior partner lured Ms. Faraday to his office with threats to release a sex tape he made of them without her knowledge or consent. A sex tape with which he then attempted to extort her into performing sex acts. When she refused and defended herself, he physically assaulted her—” Con turned his focus on Sara. “after which, he used an accomplice to post the video on social media and illicit online black sites. The IP address attached to the video confirms that it was posted from his work computer this morning, at 3:57 AM.”
“And you think someone from my firm is that accomplice?” Jackson says, leaning back in his seat to assess Conner with a cool gaze. “Templeton is a motivated young man. He could’ve left the—”
“I checked. Templeton was in his hospital bed, sleeping off a Demerol buzz.” Con shakes his head. “Someone else—someone with access to your building posted that video of my client.”
“These are serious accusations, son.” Jackson gave Conner a tight smile that gave away nothing. “Are the provable?”
“Every last one of them.” Con looks at Sara. “As soon as I subpoena your building’s security tapes, I’ll know who helped him. You can expect that and my countersuits to be filed by the end of the day,” Con says, returning Jackson’s smile. “And I’m not your son.”
The smile on the older man’s face loosens up as soon as he shifts it in Cari’s direction. “Please accept my apology, Ms. Faraday. When my daughter and Mrs. Lachlan approached me this morning with this outlandish story, I was skeptical... but in light of the proof they provided, I had to—”
“Proof?” Cari presses her hands flat on the table, like she’s getting ready to launch herself across it, her gaze darting between Sara and the older woman sitting across from her. “What proof?”
Jackson reaches into his pocket and pulls out a phone. Cari’s phone. “Janine,” he says, finally giving the woman next to him permission to speak.
“I...” she divides a look between the three of us, not sure who she should be talking to before she finally settles on Cari. “When you came to the office yesterday, I knew why you were there.” She swallows. “Ever since you—I—we walked in on Mr. Templeton and that girl having... doing... that, well, there’s no nice way to say it—I’ve been eavesdropping on him.” Her fingers lace together before nerves sent them flying apart
. “I guess I should feel bad about it, but I don’t. I don’t work for Mr. Templeton. I work for the firm, and his behavior put the firm in jeopardy—that girl was barely sixteen. Sixteen... not to mention the daughter of a founding partner.” Her tone lifts, drawing attention and she looks horrified for a second, trailing off before she looks at me. “So, I heard him talking with Ms. Parish about the suit. Coaching her on what to say. How to spin... events that transpired between the two of you.” She nods, takes a deep breath. “I knew he and that woman were filing a false suit against you, but I didn’t have proof.” She looks at Cari. “Not until you showed up.”
Con folds his arms over his chest. “I’d love to hear how my client assisted in proving that Ms. Parish filed a false suit against Mr. Gilroy.”
“When Mr. Templeton told me to take your bag...” She looked at Cari again. “I—you’re a smart woman, Ms. Faraday. I knew... at least I hoped you’d have a plan to prove—”
“You took Cari’s phone,” I say.
“I didn’t take it,” she says quickly. “I put it in my desk drawer with the receiver of my office phone and the intercom on. I recorded the whole thing.”
“You little minx,” Conner says, grinning at Janine from ear to ear. “I’m kissing you when this is all over, right on the mouth.”
“Oh, well—I mean...” The poor woman blushed, reaching up to touch her hair. “That won’t be necessary.”
“What does this have to do with you?” I say, looking at Sara, who up until this point, has said nothing. “Where do you fit into this?”
“I’ve been working at my father’s firm for the last few months, just until a teaching job comes through,” Sara says, offering an explanation. “Once yesterday’s incident died down, Janine listened to the recording she made with Cari’s phone and brought it to me. I met with my father this morning to pass the recording on to him.”
“The authorities have been contacted, and I assure you James Templeton and Lisa Parish will be prosecuted to the full extent of the law,” Jackson says, pushing himself away from the table. “I’d like to offer you both a formal apology on behalf of the firm and reassurance that any and all lawsuits against your clients have been dropped.” He offers me a smile as I stand and we shake hands again. “I hope that in light of our cooperation, we can expect the same from you.”
“We’ll see,” Con says from his seat. “There’s still the matter of the security tapes to contend with.” Across the table, Sara looks like she’s going to throw up.
“There’s no need for a subpoena,” Jackson says, completely oblivious to his daughter’s reaction. “We have nothing to hide. You’ll have your tapes by the end of today.”
“I’ll have their authenticity verified by an expert, willing to testify in court.” Again, Con’s looking at Jackson, but he’s talking to Sara.
“I wouldn’t expect anything less,” Jackson says, visibly impressed by Con’s pitbull routine. “If you don’t mind me asking, what firm do you work for, son?”
“Gilroy Auto Repair,” Con says, finally standing with a laugh. “And I’m still not your son.”
Jackson clears his throat. “Well, if you’re ever looking to change that, come see me.”
Conner laughs, shaking his head. “Don’t count on it,” he says, rounding the table, attention focused on Jackson’s secretary and making good on his promise. “Come ‘ere, Janine, give me some sugar.”
Sixteen
Cari
I watch as Sara pushes her way out the front door, Patrick in hot pursuit, calling after her. She stops and turns toward him on the sidewalk in front of the window. He says something that stuns her, and she reaches out, hand clutched around his bicep. He keeps pushing her hand away, but she keeps grabbing him, mouth moving fast as she explains herself.
I did it for you.
I just wanted you to see her for who she really is.
You’re too good for someone like her.
I still love you.
Whatever she’s saying, Patrick stands quietly and listens, a bland expression on his face. When she finally runs out of steam, he says something to her before turning and disappearing around the corner.
I slide into an empty stool at the bar, and Tess sets a pint glass full of ice in front of me, giving it a long pour of Kettle One. Aiming the gun over the rim, she tops it with club soda.
“You don’t get to drink it until you tell me what happened,” she says, adding a lime wedge into my glass.
I give her the Cliff-notes, the lawsuit against Patrick is being dropped. James is probably going to jail. Someone’s going to have to stop Con from suing Jackson Howard for his daughter’s part in releasing my video.
“Stop him?” Tess says, digging a couple of longnecks out of the cooler. “If Con’s burning that fucker to the ground, I’m bringing the marshmallows.” She uses an opener to take their caps off before passing the bottles across the bar.
“It’s not Mr. Howard’s fault his daughter got sucked into all this,” I say, “And in the end, Sara did the right thing. That should stand for something.”
“She only spoke up to save Patrick,” Tess says, eyes wide. “She didn’t blow the whistle until after she snuck into James office and posted that video from his computer. That should stand for something.”
“I just want to put this week behind me, Tess,” I tell her, trying to explain. “I want to forget it ever happened, okay.”
She opens her mouth to argue some more but snaps it shut. “Okay.” She nods. “Whatever you want. Whatever you need.”
“I need a place to stay,” I say. “Just for a few days, until I can get myself situated.”
Again, Tess opens her mouth like she’s going to say something. Again, she clamps it closed and nods. “Okay.”
At the other end of the bar, Declan pops the tops on a round of expensive imports for a tight cluster of white-collars—not Gilroy’s usual crowd.
Every once in a while, one of them looks at me until one of them get brave enough to approach me. I recognize him. He’s a friend of James’.
Shit.
“Hey, Cari,” he says, sidling up to the bar, wedging himself between my stool and the empty stool next to me. “Remember me?”
I stare straight ahead. Catching sight of Tess from the corner of my eye, I give her a small head shake, telling her to stay out of it. “Vaguely.”
Laughing like I said something funny, he leans in a bit closer. “How about I buy you a drink. We can catch-up.” He reaches into his breast pocket and pulls out a wad of cash, held together with a gold money clip. Nice suit. Expensive watch. Slicked back hair.
A week ago, I’d be eating out of this guy’s hand. Knowing that about myself makes me sad and a little sick.
I look at the untouched drink in front of me before looking him in the eye. “I’m good, but thank you.”
“You sure are,” he says, dragging a soft, manicured finger down the length of my bare arm, making my flesh crawl.
“Excuse me?” jerking my arm away from his touch.
“You’re famous,” he says, angling his body closer, leaning close so he can whisper in my ear. “My buddies and I’ve been watching your video all day—to be honest, you’re the reason we’re here. We were hoping you’d be down for some fun.”
“Fun?” I scoff. “With you? I’d rather run into a burning building.” I turn in my seat, sliding off in the other direction.
He snatches me by my arm and jerks me back into my seat, spinning me around to look at him. “You don’t have to be such a fucking bitch about it,” he sneers in my face.
“Unfortunately, I do have to be a bitch about it,” I say through clenched teeth. “That’s the only way assholes like you get the picture.”
“What’s the big deal, sugar—we all know what you are. The whole world knows by now.” He snarls at me, a split second before a baseball bat cracks against the hard surface of the bar—the ear-splitting sound of it ringing off the walls.
I�
��d been so focused on keeping Tess at bay, I forgot about Declan.
“Get your hands off her,” he barks, one hand gripped around the bat while the other one grapples with Tess, keeping her from launching herself across the bar.
“Who the fuck are you,” the guy says, shifting his sneer toward Declan. “Her pimp?”
“I’m her family,” Declan says, lifting the bat to push the top of it against the guy’s chest. “Nobody fucks with my family.”
“This doesn’t have anything to do with you,” the guy says, his grip going slack. “We’re just having some fun.”
I jerk myself out of his grip and stagger back when someone wedges a shoulder between us. “You want some fun, you piece of shit?” Patrick says over the high-pitched yowl, erupting from the floor. He reaches across the bar for the bat and Declan gives it to him without protest. “I’m the guy to give it to you.”
“What did you do?” I say, grabbing onto Patrick’s arm, trying to make him look at me but he’s ignoring me. He has his empty hand clenched, but as far as I could tell, he hadn’t taken a swing. I finally work my way around Patrick to find the guy sprawled out on the floor, howling—blood pouring from his nose like someone turned on a spigot. I aim a questioning look at Conner, looking for answers.
“Cracked him in the nose,” Conner says, tapping his index finger against the hard bone of his forehead. “That’s how we Gilroys shake hands.” Conner stands on the other side of him, assessing the tight knot of white-collars at the end of the bar. “At least one of you is thinking about getting in on this,” he says, jerking his chin at the guy bleeding on the floor. “That guy, whoever he is, is trying to get the rest of you killed. Don’t be that guy.”
Beside me, I can feel Patrick vibrating with rage, his hands still clenched into fists. His mouth a thin, hard line slashed across his face. I’m sure he’s seconds away from taking this guy’s head off with the bat. Instead, he passes it to Conner. “Take care of this for me.”
