Twenty minutes crept by before Jackson returned his call. “The image consultant hired the dude.”
“What is this fucker’s deal? I’ve never heard of an image consultant or publicist this involved in things. What does this guy need an investigator for?”
“The senator received an email threatening to expose all of his son’s sins, claimed they had proof.”
The sudden rush of adrenaline caused a sharp pain in Linc’s chest. “What sins? What the hell does that even mean? This is that Miranda bitch from the paper. Can we not get her to back off? Can’t you make some phone calls?”
“This is the first I’m hearing of any of it.” There was no missing the frustration in Jack’s voice. “Listen, until we figure out what’s going on, when you two leave that building you are strictly business. The more pressure Edgeworth feels about this campaign, the worse it gets for all of us. If anybody finds out that there’s something going between you two… we’re all fucked.”
Linc didn’t bother to deny there was anything going on. What the fuck was the point? Everybody in their inner circle already knew. Everybody but Monty Edgeworth. This was an absolute clusterfuck. “Understood.”
“Hey, one last thing,” Jackson said, hesitation in his voice.
“Yeah?”
“Why is Charlemagne Hastings friend requesting me on Facebook?”
Linc had been on the phone for hours, first with Jackson and now with his sister. Wyatt wasn’t eavesdropping. It wasn’t his fault Linc’s voice carried from the patio into his bedroom. Sure, he might have been sitting just inside the doorway where the acoustics were better, but the point was, Linc couldn’t be mad at Wyatt for listening in.
“I’m sorry, El. I really am. I’ll find a new night nurse so you can get some sleep.”
Wyatt wasn’t sure what Ellie’s response was, but there was no missing the strain in Linc’s voice or the heavy sighs that punctuated his sentences. Wyatt couldn’t imagine caring for somebody twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week, especially not somebody with severe dementia. It sounded exhausting and thankless on the best of days. But to stop your whole life to care for a person who abandoned you to your crazy mom… that went beyond selfless, it seemed borderline masochistic. Not that Wyatt should point fingers. He was always looking for new and creative ways to hurt himself.
“Have you heard from Davis about your old job?” Linc asked before saying, “Ellie, you’re just starting to make a name for yourself. This is crazy. Put him in the state home you found in Orlando and go back to California. Go back to your old life. I hate that you’re the one bearing the brunt of this.”
Wyatt wondered how much it cost for round-the-clock care for a patient with a limited ability to care for themselves. Linc was getting paid six figures just to hang out with Wyatt every day and all they did was attend boring fundraisers. Wyatt imagined the cost of running a person’s entire life, keeping them alive… it had to cost a small fortune. At least as much as Linc’s salary. It was why he’d agreed to babysit Wyatt.
The notion twisted something deep inside. Not that Wyatt begrudged Linc the paycheck he would receive. The money Linc made wasn’t for sex with Wyatt. In his head, he knew that. But some dark part of him whispered Wyatt was just a means to an end, a paycheck with benefits, and as soon as that check was in his hands, Wyatt would never hear from Linc again.
Wyatt shook his head. Of course he wouldn’t hear from him again. That was the point. They were having a fling. Even if they weren’t, what would Wyatt do? His father would never set him free. There was no world where he and Linc could just be together. It just wasn’t how his world worked.
The more Wyatt thought about it, the gloomier he became. He wandered into the kitchen, making himself a peanut butter sandwich before stabbing the knife into the jar and leaving it sitting on the counter like a warning to all the other sandwich spreads not to mess with him. He sat at the counter tearing the bread into small pieces but not eating them. Instead, he glowered at Linc’s retreating figure, dipping his head each time he turned to pace back.
His phone vibrated against the counter, snagging his attention. It was a text from Charlie.
Did Linc sort out your private investigator downstairs?
Had he? Wyatt had no idea. Linc had barely said five words to him since he came back.Sort of. All Linc would say is the guy works for my dad.
I ruined a perfectly good blowout for that? I looked like I’d been through a wind tunnel by the time I met up with Miguel. What a dick. I should send him a bill. Wait. Why would your dad hire a PI?
Fuck if I know? I wanted to ask Linc, but he’s been on the phone for hours. You’d think he could spare five minutes for me, but I guess not.
Three dots danced before the next text came through, jangling Wyatt’s raw nerves.Oh, boy. Somebody’s cranky. What happened? You seemed fine at breakfast.
Wyatt’s stomach soured. Had he?That was then; this is now.
Uh-oh. Little Black Rain Cloud Wyatt… my least favorite Wyatt. The Wyatt that makes stupid decisions. You’re not planning on doing something stupid, are you? Cause if so, maybe you should save it for your dad’s super important party tomorrow.
What is it about this party that all of a sudden makes it so much more important than the others? A week ago, it was just another event.
My mom said the press will be there because he’s getting an award or something. Whatever kind of award it is, I’m sure he bought it.
Wyatt couldn’t control his rolling eyes even if there was nobody there to witness it. His father would make himself out to be some hero. He glanced over at Linc, who’d planted himself at the end of one of the lounge chairs at the far end of the porch. Linc pinched the bridge of his nose as he continued to talk to his sister.
Hello?
Sorry, I just don’t know what to say.
