“To get away from your son? Yes!”
“No, the money.”
I sigh and my eyes roam over to Tracy. “Maybe I should settle this with your wife. She can probably understand better—you know, not be so dense. I bet she’s smarter.”
Tracy takes a long sip of her martini as she studies me. “Just sign the damn papers, Wessy. It’s obvious she doesn’t want to be with you; she has been living separately from you for over a year.” She looks at her husband. “If she only wanted money, she wouldn’t have brought the paperwork asking for less. Hell, you offered her more to NOT marry him seven years ago.”
“Thank you,” I sigh. “See? Smarter.”
Senior leans in and points at me. “Keep on, and you’ll be sorry.”
I wave him off. “Oh please, your son is much better at threats. Plus, he follows through. If he said he was going to give me a black eye, he gave me one. If he promised to fracture a rib, he did. If he said—”
“That’s enough, Celeste. Shut the fuck up,” Wes snarled at me.
“Sign the papers, Wes.”
“Don’t mind her, Son, she’s reaching.”
“Am I?” I look at Wes, and he diverts his eyes, then back to his father. Senior folds his arms resolute. I nod slowly. “Okay.”
I reach in my purse and pull out the new headphones and my cell phone. I open them in front of them and attach it to the phone. I give Wes’ mom and dad an earbud.
I pull up the audio files of Wes’ voicemails and press the play on the first one. Senior raises his eyebrows while Tracy looks more aghast. I make sure to play the most threatening ones he left. Wes studies me.
“What are they listening to?”
I smirk at him. “The messages you left me the day ‘I fell into the ocean’.”
Wes reaches for the phone, and I move it out of his immediate reach. “Give me the phone,” he uses his most threatening voice.
“No. Look at your parents, they’ve already heard.”
“Give me the phone,” he grits. His tone is low and threatening.
“Sign the fucking papers, Wes,” I volley.
“Give me the fucking phone!” Wes grabs my wrist and twists it. It’s not as painful as some of his other tactics but I act like it is horrible.
“Ouch, Wes you’re hurting me please stop!” I cry louder than necessary. His mom’s eyes are saucers and his dad gives him a death glare.
Brett is by my side almost immediately. “Sir, I’m going to have to ask you to keep your hands off the lady.”
“Who in the hell are you?” The Mayor wanted to know.
Brett ignores him and continues to glare at Wes until he scoots away from me.
“Oh, that’s right. I forgot to tell you, with all the name-calling you were doing. When they discovered my car, they suspected foul play. I’m in protective custody until I can remember exactly what happened that night.” I bat my eyes prettily at Wes. “They think I was rammed from behind. If only I could remember who I was meeting…”
“Sign the damn papers right now, Wes,” his mother hisses and passes him the pen.
Wes glares at me then Brett then back to me before addressing Brett. “If I find out that you’re sleeping with Celeste.”
“You’ll what?” Brett and I challenge almost in unison.
Wes puffs out an aggravated breath and signs the first paper of the second deal.
“All three copies, darling,” I coo.
