My hand scrubs at my aching face with a groan, my elbow resting on the phone box in front of me. An ache buries itself in my chest as I recall the look on my best friend’s face when I asked him the one question he should have always been able to say no to.
“She fucked someone else.”
A beat of silence.
“What?”
“My wife fucked another guy,” I tell him. “So no, you’re not calling her.”
He curses under his breath again, this time following with quiet mumbling, not intended for me to hear or to understand. He’s done it since we were kids, any time he’s deep in thought. It’s no less obnoxious today than it was when I was ten and trying to do my homework next to him.
“I’ll be on the next flight out.”
Chapter 14
TRIPP
“Montgomery,” a voice announces, and my eyes snap to her. “Bail’s been posted.”
I stand as she opens the door of the holding cell, offering a quick wave to the two other guys inside as I follow her out of holding and into a larger waiting area.
He’s turned away from me, but I know my brother when I see him. Of course he’s wearing a fucking suit and posturing like he’s standing before a judge. The guy next to him is a few inches shorter, also dressed in a suit, a shade of blue that contrasts to the beige that my brother is wearing.
Handing a clipboard and a pen back to the person on the opposite side of the desk from him, Brody turns, and what I would almost believe to be fear on his face quickly twists into fury.
“You told me that you werefine,” he grits as he shoves a paper bag into my arms.
“Because I am.”
“There is absolutely nothing fine about this,” he argues. Carefully gripping my jaw, he turns my head side to side to inspect the damage. “Were you recording the interaction?”
I nod, shifting my arms to hoist up the bag. “Should be on my phone.”
“Good, I’ll need a copy of that,” the guy next to him says. Sticking out his hand to shake mine, he adds, “Ezra Amato.”
“Tripp,” I nod.
The guy is a classic frat-boy-gone-suit, from the quiff in his hair to the wing tips on his feet and the silver signet ring wrapped around his middle finger. I’d bet if he rolled up his sleeve, I’d see a Rolex on his wrist, and I’d bet twice as much that he can’t read analog, so it’s just for looks.
If B trusts him, though, so will I.
It feels like hours pass while we finish filling out paperwork and going over details that I know are important, but I can’t bring myself to focus on at all. I pick up a few things here and there, but I trust the other guys to retain it all.
I don’t watch the video when Ezra pulls it up. I only chance a few glances at B’s face as it shifts between disgust and rage while it plays through.
“They said something about a hearing,” I say to Ezra. “Do you fly back out for that or something? How does that work?”
“There won’t be any hearing,” he tells me with an amused chuckle. “Thanks to that little camera of yours, there’s a six-minute-long video of the guy kicking the shit out of Jefferson and Molly Montgomery’s unconscious son, whilealsofailing to ensure that he understood his miranda rights.”
“I’mnottheir son,” I grit.
His hand lands on my shoulder as he levels a look at me, pulling up the corner of his lip into a smirk.
“As far as these people are concerned, yeah you are, my guy,” he tells me. “Your name carries enough weight to make this whole thing disappear, and you’re gonna let it.”
Pulling a set of keys from his pocket as he uses his head to gesture in my direction, Brody says, “I’m taking him home. Can I assume that you’ve got it from here?”
His friend offers him a confident thumbs up before the two of them exchange a quick shake of their hands.
