“Stupidity doesn’t become you. I like Chris, and I don’t hurt the people I like.” He poured himself wine and came back to sit. “Let’s assume that Dima is lying. Do you think he knows where Chris is being held, assuming he’s even alive?”
“Don’t go there. Heisalive. My guess is that Trevoris too clever to let Dima know where they’re keeping Chris, but I’m sure he knows more than he told us.”
“Then we’ll need to be smart about this. If Dima feels that he’s in danger, he’ll likely disappear.”
“His car.”
“What about it?”
“Can it still drive?”
“Yes.”
“Tell him to bring it over to my garage tomorrow. I want to inspect the damage. I’ll use the opportunity to pressure him a bit; nothing too extreme.”
“You’ll find out he’s not easily pressured.”
“We’ll see. But I wonder if we should get the police involved and have them question him.” Jay had been raised never to trust the men in blue, but he was clearly out of his depth here.
“Dima won’t speak with the police,” Oscar said firmly. “The last thing I need is for him to yammer about the things he’s seen in this club.”
“This is not about your damn club!”
“And we will keep it that way, understand?”
Jay looked away and reluctantly nodded. He didn’t have enough allies to start alienating them. Still, if push came to shove, he’d go straight to the cops, and the hell with Oscar’s rotten club.
Jay’s phone buzzed in his pocket. He pulled it out and almost dropped it. A wave of relief left him speechless, but it didn’t make sense. The notification was fora message from Chris, sent to their group chat. Jay gingerly entered the group and read the message.
“What is it?” Oscar asked.
“Fucking trouble.”
14
ANTHONY
“You boys should go fishing,” Arthur said during dinner. “The weather’s perfect.”
“Didn’t you hear, Dad? Fishing’s boring. It was all over the news.” Ethan scooped more rice onto his plate.
“Fishing is the art of patience, my impatient son. Chris used to love fishing back in the day.”
“Christoleratedfishing because it got him to spend time with you, the same way he was into knitting because of Mom.”
Ruth raised a warning finger. “Don’t drag my knitting into this. He made me the most beautiful sweater, although the right arm was shorter than the left. I still have it somewhere.”
Anthony drank from his water to hide a smile. He always loved how at ease he felt with Ethan’s parents, although he was feeling rather agitated sitting at their table this Friday evening. The last time he had been in a similar “coming out” situation, it had been with his religious family, and hadn’t that turned out wonderfully? He didn’t expect Ethan’s parents to reactsimilarly—they still had a framed Hillary Clinton photo on the wall—but he was wary just the same, more for Ethan’s sake than his.
“So...” Ethan cleared his throat and rubbed his palms on his legs.
Anthony gave him a reassuring smile.
“On no!” Ruth covered her mouth. “You lost your job?”
“What? No! I just started this week.”
Ruth exhaled. Her brownish hair was graying, but her eyes were as green and vibrant as Ethan’s.
