Someone Knows

by Lisa Scottoline

  “Scott, sorry to interrupt—”

  “What?” Scott covered the phone with his hand, not bothering to hide his irritation. He did hide his erection, however.

  “Mr. Hybrinski is here to see you.”

  “Who?” Scott asked, momentarily confused. All the blood had left his brain, taking the express train south. He couldn’t hold a single thought in his head except Tiffany, topless.

  “Bill Hybrinski. He said you told him to come by this morning.”

  Shit, of course. Scott sighed, realizing he was getting done out of doing Tiffany. “Sure, send him in.”

  “Will do.” The secretary vanished.

  “Tiffany, bye,” Scott whispered into the phone, then hung up.

  “Hey, Scott!” Bill entered the office, wearing a white shirt, pressed khakis, and a nervous smile that Scott recognized immediately. It was how everybody looked when they were about to ask him for something. He’d seen it a million times before because everybody wanted something from him, money, a loan, a job, a favor, a discount, a donation, a recommendation, a leg up, whatever. Scott resented it, since he’d never asked anybody for anything, having built Browne Land Management from the ground up. He was a self-made millionaire because he knew that success wasn’t something you asked for, but something you earned.

  “Great to see you!” Scott masked his feelings and extended his hand, and Bill pumped it heartily.

  “It’s been too long!”

  “It sure has.” Scott couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen Bill or his wife, Marianne. Julian had brought David on the boat recently, but otherwise the Hybrinskis were in Scott’s ex-life, like mulch.

  “How have you been, Scott?”

  “Terrific! How about you and Marianne?”

  “Can’t complain.”

  “Please, sit.” Scott sat down, gesturing at the chair opposite the desk.

  “Thanks. This is a great office.” Bill took a seat, looking around with a wistful expression, and Scott suppressed an eye roll. Bill was feeling sorry for himself because he had to ask for a favor, when it should be the other way around. Try being the guy who everybody wants something from.

  “Thanks, but we’re outgrowing the space already. The plan was to be here for the next three to five, but it looks like we’ll be out by the end of the year.”

  “Business is that good?”

  “And then some,” Scott answered, rubbing it in. “We’re moving to Chester Springs Corporate Center. It’s part of the plan.”

  “That’d be great.” Bill smiled, more nervously. “You seem pretty busy today.”

  “I am.”

  “Thanks for taking the time to see me.”

  “For an old friend like you? Not a problem.” Scott watched Bill squirm, for shits and giggles.

  “Well, I guess I should get to the point.”

  Scott kept his mouth shut. He wasn’t going to make it easy. If Bill wanted something, he could ask.

  “Long story short, my business isn’t doing that well.”

  Here it comes. Scott feigned surprise, but he visited that strip mall from time to time to check, and anybody could see that Hybrinski Optical was circling the drain.

  “The chains and managed care are killing me.”

  Excuses, excuses, excuses. Scott linked his fingers in front of him, but said nothing.

  “And you already know Lee, from the mattress store, is going belly-up.”

  “I expect that from him.”

  Bill cringed. “But Lee worked hard. Really hard.”

  “Business is business, Bill. You don’t get an A for effort. It’s about results.”

  “But Lee’s results were good for a long time, then came Dial-A-Mattress. He couldn’t compete.”

  “Gimme a break.” Scott knew they weren’t talking about Lee or the mattress store. “What kind of businessman are you if you can only make money when there’s no competition?”

  “I guess, uh, you’re right.”

  “You didn’t come here to talk about Lee, did you?”

  “No.” Bill swallowed visibly.

  “Well?”

  Bill shifted in his chair. “So, anyway, uh, I hate to ask, but I was wondering if you could forgive my rent for six months.”

  “You in a hole?”

  “Frankly, yes.”

  “What’s the plan?”

  “What do you mean?” Bill frowned.

  “What’s the plan to get you out of the hole? Or is the plan good-money-after-bad?”

  Bill paled. “Well, uh, I’m thinking that six months will get me ahead of the game.”

  “Face the facts, Bill. Your business is dying, and a transfusion isn’t gonna keep you alive. It’ll just make you stagger longer until you fall down dead.”

  Bill’s mouth dropped open.

  “The truth hurts, buddy. Anyway, of course I’ll ‘forgive’ the rent. Technically, I’ll delay the payment by making an addendum extending the lease. For three months, not six. Otherwise I can’t square it with my lender.”

  “Okay.” Bill blinked, stunned.

  “Let me give you some advice.”

  “Uh, okay.”

  Scott looked Bill in the eye. “If you don’t have a plan, you’re not a businessman, you’re a gambler.”

  CHAPTER 21

  Sasha Barrow

  Sasha lifted the last cardboard box onto the truck, wiping her brow. She was so happy the stupid 5K was over. It had taken up her whole morning, but at least she had won, which would look good on her college apps and shut her mother up. Otherwise, it was a total flop. A volunteer told her they wouldn’t break even after they paid for the ambulance, and Sasha had spent more time than she wanted to around Allie’s wacko family.

  “Sasha, thanks so much!” Allie’s father scooted over, moving fast on his short legs.

  “No problem, Dr. Garvey! I’d better be going home now.”

  “Not yet, you have to get your trophy.” Dr. Garvey frowned. “I left it at home, and it will only take a minute. We can stop by the house, and I’ll give it to you.”

  “No, that’s okay.” Sasha waved him off, edging away. She couldn’t stand another minute with nerdy Dr. Garvey. “I’ll get it another time.”

  “No, please, I called the newspaper, and they said if I send them a picture of you holding the trophy, they might run it. It will get us some good publicity for CF.”

  “But I don’t want to impose.” Sasha suppressed an eye roll. “I can get the trophy another time.”

  “It’s not an imposition. Come with me.” Dr. Garvey motioned to her, quick-stepping to a brown Honda. “You won’t get to see Allie, though. She and her mother went out to lunch with our friend Fran, doing some catching up. Hop in.”

  “Okay, thanks.” Sasha climbed in the car, and they left the clubhouse and steered through the development in silence, since she didn’t care enough to make small talk and Dr. Garvey had no social graces. He drove like three miles an hour. They could’ve gone faster on a turtle. The Garveys were a nerdy turtle family.

  “So you won. I’m sure your mother will be very proud. I’ll be sure to email her and tell her how much you helped. Where did you say she was again?”

  “Paris, I think.”

  “Well, that’s exciting! Paris is supposed to be one of the most beautiful cities in the world. Have you ever been?”

  “Yes.”

  “I haven’t.” Dr. Garvey pulled into his driveway, turning off the ignition. “So they’re not home yet. I don’t see Fran’s car.”

  “Okay.” Sasha felt relieved that she didn’t have to see Allie or her mother, who’d looked so weird at the 5K, sitting at the registration table behind big sunglasses and not smiling even once.

  “We’ll get the trophy and take a picture outside, so they can’t tell it wasn’t taken at the race.” Dr. Garvey got out of the car, and Sasha followed him up the front path to the house, which was a smaller version of hers. He unlocked the front door, and just then the phone start
ed ringing inside the house. Dr. Garvey perked up. “That must be the reporter!”

  “Reporter?”

  “Yes, she said she’d call! This’ll be great!” Dr. Garvey hurried into the house, and Sasha entered after him. He took the call in the kitchen, leaving Sasha to stand awkwardly in the house, looking around.

  The layout was the same as Sasha’s, with the kitchen connected to the family room, and the décor of Allie’s house was exactly what Sasha expected. Flowery stenciling everywhere, tacky furniture with pillows that said BLESS OUR HOME, and no good art. Family photos covered the walls, and Sasha eyed them, not surprised to see that Allie had been fat when she was little, too. Her sister, Jill, had been the pretty one, which sucked.

  “Sure, I understand completely,” Dr. Garvey was saying into the phone. “I’m delighted you’d consider interviewing me. We need all the publicity we can get. It will help a very worthy cause, curing CF in our lifetime and saving children’s lives.”

  Sasha sighed, standing around with nothing to do. She couldn’t believe she was wasting a beautiful Saturday in Allie Garvey’s cheesy house getting a rinky-dink trophy.

  “Yes, I’m available right now. But please, excuse me for a moment.” Dr. Garvey covered the receiver with his hand. “Sasha, the trophy is upstairs in our bedroom. I think I left it on my dresser, on the right. Can you go get it so I can do this interview?”

  “Okay.” Sasha headed for the staircase, thinking that only a weirdo like Dr. Garvey would send her up to his own bedroom. She climbed to the second floor and took a left at the top of the stairs, knowing that the master would be on the left and the kids’ rooms to the right. The layout in her house was the same, the parents separated from the kids, so the parents could have sex and the kids could get high. Or vice versa.

  Sasha entered the master bedroom, where the weirdness continued. The bed was messy and unmade, the hamper overflowed with dirty clothes, and the air smelled stale. She turned up her nose, thinking the Garveys needed better cleaning people. The trophy stood on the nearer bureau, so she crossed the bedroom, took it, and left. She was heading down the hallway when she heard shouting coming from downstairs.

  Sasha stopped at the top of the stairs. The sound traveled up the stairwell. Curious, she listened in.

  “Mark, hang up the phone. Hang up!”

  “Fran, please, this is an interview about the 5K—”

  “You will not avoid me for one more minute! How dare you let her get this way! She’s lost weight! She’s a wreck! She needs help, can’t you see that?”

  “Aunt Fran, please, he’s trying his best.”

  Sasha recognized Allie’s voice. So it was a juicy fight between Dr. Garvey, Fran Somebody, and Allie. Sasha didn’t know where Mrs. Garvey was. Sasha eavesdropped, wanting to hear what happened.

  Fran was saying, “Allie, your father’s in denial, you said it yourself! He’s pretending your mother is fine when she obviously isn’t! She needs psychiatric help, this instant! Probably inpatient! She’s in the car, crying her eyes out!”

  “Fran, you have a lot of nerve interfering—”

  “Dad, Aunt Fran—”

  “I have a lot of nerve, Mark? You have a lot of nerve! You’ve let her languish!”

  “I have not! I got her to a therapist! She’s on meds! She’s going to talk therapy! What more do you want?”

  “I want it to work! She’s a zombie! She looks like a ghost! Her clothes are swimming on her! Are you blind?”

  “Aunt Fran, Dad, please don’t fight—”

  Upstairs, Sasha started to feel bad. A normal fight was one thing, but this was worse. It sounded like Allie’s mother was a mess and Allie was freaking out. Sasha’s mother wasn’t around much, but at least she wasn’t a basket case. Meanwhile Sasha couldn’t go downstairs in the middle of a family fight. She stayed still, unsure of what to do next.

  “Fran, I’ve done everything for her! Everything!”

  “You’ve done everything but help her! Can’t you tell she’s sinking? She’s circling the drain!”

  “She’s grieving! Everybody grieves differently!”

  “She’s going under, Mark! What were you thinking today, forcing her to go to a fun run on Jill’s anniversary? Are you insane? What mother would want to do that?”

  “What mother wouldn’t? It’s a celebration of our daughter’s life!”

  “Mark, you’re failing her!”

  “I’m failing her?” Dr. Garvey exploded. “Fran, who are you to tell me I’m failing her? Do you know what I do around here? I’m the husband and the wife! I’m the father and the mother! I go to work every day, I make sure there’s food in the house! I get the laundry and dry cleaning done! I make sure the lawn gets mowed, the bills get paid! I do it all! I’ve been doing it all for a year! All she does is sleep, eat, and cry!”

  “Mark, her daughter died!”

  “So did mine!” Dr. Garvey shouted, his voice breaking.

  “Dad, Aunt Fran, stop!” Allie burst into tears, running up the stairs.

  Oh, shit. Sasha realized Allie was coming. Sasha edged backward, clutching the trophy. Her instinct was to run back into the master, but that would be weirder. There was no time anyway. Sasha froze.

  Allie reached the top of the stairs and saw Sasha. Allie gasped, startled. Her eyes went wide. Tears streaked her cheeks. “What are you doing here?” she blurted out, shocked.

  “I had to get this.” Sasha hoisted the trophy. “Sorry—”

  Allie turned away, fled to her bedroom, and slammed the door closed.

  Sasha flew down the stairs, through the front door, and out of Allie’s house. She didn’t stop running until she got home.

  She threw the trophy in the garbage.

  CHAPTER 22

  Julian Browne

  There were six tennis courts at Brandywine Hunt, maintained in excellent condition, covered every winter and the nets put away so the tape didn’t get dingy. They were Har-Tru, so their surface was soft green stone, which complemented the green coating on the cyclone fence. The courts were set off on the far side of the pool and snack bar, with the clubhouse. Julian and David hadn’t had to wait for a court because it was hot and nearly everybody was at the pool. They’d been playing for less than an hour, but Julian was getting frustrated. He couldn’t concentrate. He gritted his teeth, watching the ball sail out-of-bounds.

  “Sayonara!” David called from his side of the court. “That’s the match!”

  “Son of a bitch!” Julian banged his racket on the court. It was his new Head titanium graphite but he didn’t care if it broke. “I want a rematch!”

  “Not today, bro! You’re off your game.”

  “Bullshit!” Julian noticed the old couple on the next court looking over in disapproval. He wasn’t supposed to use profanity on the property. Most people knew who he was, and he couldn’t disgrace the family name, which was a brand. “I want a rematch!”

  “No way! I won in straight sets. You’re officially humiliated.”

  “Come on, David!”

  “Stick a fork in it, my friend!”

  “But I know what I’m doing wrong! I got it now!” Julian knew he sounded ridiculous, since what he was doing wrong was everything. He’d been driving himself crazy wondering where Sasha was, because he hadn’t seen her in her bedroom, nor did he see her leave.

  “Let’s just hit around!” David lobbed a shot over the net, but Julian let it bounce.

  “I don’t need charity!”

  “Be cool, dude.” David pocketed the second ball, came forward to the net, and rested his hands on the tape. “Then let’s call it a day. Get a swim.”

  “I don’t want to.”

  “I do. We played an hour. Come on, let the kids play.” David gestured at two kids sitting on the other side of the fence, waiting for a court.

  “Fuck ’em.”

  “That was us once.” David motioned to the kids, and they scrambled to their sneakers, picking up their rackets and a can of balls.<
br />
  “We were cooler than that.”

  “No, we weren’t. Let’s go.” David chuckled, and Julian examined his racket, happy to note he’d damaged its rim. He hustled to collect the balls on his side, picked up his racket cover, and walked to the gate.

  “Hi, guys.” David opened the gate for the kids. “Have a good game.”

  “Yeah, don’t suck out loud,” Julian added, and the kids laughed nervously, heading on to the court, unzipping their racket covers, and opening the zip-top on a new can of balls with a satisfying hiss.

  “I love that sound, don’t you?” David closed the gate, with its sign BRANDYWINE HUNT TENNIS COURTS. NO SKATEBOARDING. PROPER FOOTWEAR REQUIRED. MINORS MUST YIELD TO ADULTS ON WEEKENDS AND WEEKNIGHTS.

  Julian flopped onto the silvery wooden bench, which was real cedar. His father always specified cedar benches instead of all-weather in the upscale developments. Julian wished he could turn off his developer brain, but he couldn’t. He wanted to have his own land development business someday. His father wanted him to work for Browne Land Management, but Julian knew that would be a mistake. He would never be anything but the boss’s son if he did that. Julian wanted to be the boss.

  “You okay?” David sat next to him, wiping his forehead with his bandanna, in a loop like a noose.

  “I sucked hard. You were in the zone.”

  David smiled crookedly. “The true opponent is the player himself. If you read Infinite Jest, you’d know that.”

  “It’s too long.”

  “The Bible is long.”

  “Infinite Jest is not the Bible. It’s a normal book.”

  “The word you’re searching for is novel, my friend. Allie’s reading it.”

  “Allie has the hots for you. I don’t.”

  “What’s going on?” David twisted open a bottle of water. There had been stacks of Deer Park outside the clubhouse, for free.

  “I’m so pissed about Sasha.” Julian couldn’t shake his mood.

  “Because she made such a stink about the squirrel thing? You’re not pissed at me, are you?” David gulped some water.