“I’m willing,” Salem says.
“Same here.” I look to Lou.
She slowly breathes, thinking. Her finger taps on the desk. She takes a sip of water. Adjusts the pen behind her ear?—
“Oh my god, woman, say something,” Salem says.
She laughs. “Yeah, of course I’m willing. Thought that was obvious by all of this yammering.”
He grins at her, and she returns the gesture. The air feels cleared, like it’s just us again. The room settles.
“Now let me get back to work.” She opens the laptop and slides it back toward herself.
“You don’t want to work at the resort?” I ask.
“Not now. I like being here. It’s inspirational sometimes.”
“Understood.” I tell my brothers goodbye and that I’m staying to tweak some things, but really, I want to be with her after that fight. Feels wrong to leave right now. They do, teasing that I’m the Feelings Guy.
I don’t mind the title.
She types for a while. I watch her hands move and not the screen. I want to say a lot. I don’t. I want her to feel me here without making her carry me. That’s the point.
My phone buzzes. Knox:updated site live.He sends a link and a screenshot—the era page withCreative Director, Lou Navarro,under the title. Press kit updated too. Live session replay’s opening slate now includesCreated by Lou Navarroon the bottom third. The one-sheet has her credit on page one. It looks right.
“Better,” she says, softer.
“Better.”
Lou closes her laptop. “Walk?”
“Definitely.”
We go around the block in easy circles. She talks through the next week’s deliverables, then stops, then starts again about nothing connected to work. On the way back she stops and looks at me like she’s curious about something. “Old dogs…”
“New tricks.”
“You really think you can?”
“We will. I promise you that.”
We go back inside, and she laces her fingers between mine. Things feel right again, and I’m grateful we were all willing to talk it out. No lingering hurts, no resentment. Just the four of us, being us.
I send Knox and Salem a note:Thank you.They both reply with the same word:Halt.It makes me laugh. It also reminds me of what we promised her.
28
SALEM
The lawyer picksthe diner because the sight lines are clean and the parking lot gives the undercover cars room to breathe. He touches the recorder in my pocket. “You don’t need it, but I like belts and suspenders.”
I catch his drift. Protection everywhere.
Two detectives sip coffee at the counter, another reads a menu two booths back. A fourth sits in a sedan by the dumpster. We’re not playing cowboy. We’re letting him talk. Letting him confess one last time.
I sit where the window gives me a glare shield. Hoodie, cap, hands open. I order coffee and let it go cold.
Troy walks in late, which is how he tells himself he still has power. Hoodie, cap, sunglasses. He slides in across from me and peels the glasses slow. He scans the room, maybe nervous, maybe proud. Hard to tell when he’s this high.
