“Give ’em time. Rod’ll call when they’re ready.”
“Yeah.” Jules sighed. “I wish the traffic didn’t suck.”
“Yup.” Sam glanced at him again. “So. Hobbit. Nice nickname.”
“Oh, you arenotgoing to mock me for having one friend—one—from high school with a quirky nickname,Roger.”
“I’m not mocking. Glass houses and all,” Sam said, laughter in his voice, because yes, his given name was Roger. He’d had a slew of nicknames of his own, starting withRingoback when he was just a kid, thenBobwhen he joined the Navy because of that famous fictional character named Bob Starrett—Shane! Shane!Then it wasHoustonwhen he went into BUD/S because he was from Texas—and also because of NASA’sRoger, Houstoncatch-phrase—which had then begotSam. Which stuck. Because face it, Sam looked more like a Sam than a Roger.
But the SEAL teams were notorious for assigning odd monikers and frankly he’d been lucky that Sam was the name that stuck. Jules knew SEALs who were known as Grungeand WildCard. Blue and Cowboy. Seagull and Timebomb. Q and Doe. And probably his all-time favorite, HoboMofo, who had a nickname for his nickname. His good friends called him Fo.
A kid being calledHobbitstarting back when he was fifteen didn’t raise an eyebrow in comparison.
Still Jules said, “The name was bestowed before I moved to town, FYI. In fact, it took me a little too long to learn that Hobbit’s given name was Kevin.”
“Was he at your wedding?” Sam asked. “Or did he skip? Or maybe not get an invite?”
“Jeez, no, what...? He was there,” Jules said.
“Honestly, I cannot for the life of me remember meeting him. And I know I would’ve. Remembered him. He’s...”
Jules laughed at Sam’s loss of words. “He certainly is. Is, was, and will always be. But there were so many people at the wedding, there was no way you could’ve met all of them and... He was also in a new relationship,” he told Sam. “Marty or... hmm, Matt? Madison! Maybe...? It didn’t last long, which was too bad because whatever-his-name-is seemed nice. Hob was in that deeply smitten place, so they spent most of the night on the dance floor. That pretty much kept him out of trouble.”
“Can’t have been easy for him,” Sam said, looking up from the road and over at Jules. “Watching you marrythe movie star.”
Jules glanced back at him. It was funny, he was still always surprised when Sam was so perceptive. He would’ve thought he’d be used to it by now. “Yeah, I think you’re right,” he admitted. “We were never more than friends, but... I know he would’ve gone there. Back in high school for sure, but...” He shook his head. “I really love him, just not that way.”
“Harder when it’s unrequited.”
Jules nodded. “Yeah.” Although even when attraction and feelingswerewholeheartedly requited—was that even the word for it?—that didn’t mean an automaticpiece of cake, to use one of Sam’s favorite expressions. He’d spent years hopelessly in love with Robin, yet he’d carefully kept his distance, despite knowing that Robin’s feelings were mutual.
But as hard as that had been, it would’ve been unbearable to climb into Robin’s closet with him. So he’d stayed away because he loved himself too much to trade one pain for another.
Thankfully, just as Jules had been about to cave, Robin had made the choice to emerge into the sunlight. God, Jules was so grateful for that. He tried to imagine surviving these past few months without Robin’s love and...
He simply couldn’t.
“Hobbit never pushed, though,” Jules told Sam. “Ifriendedhim, pretty much nonstop from the moment we met, and he was always respectful of that boundary. Some guys aren’t very good at that, or they try wiggling past it with the friends-with-benefits angle, which, nine times out of ten—at least in my experience—is a bad mistake. Someone usually ends up hurt, and friendships get blown up. Don’t get me wrong, Hobbit was and still is plenty cute, but, no.”
He laughed a little, thinking back to high school, back to David, who’d finally broken his months of silence the November of his freshman year at UCLA. He called Jules to see if he wanted to meet up while he was home from California for Thanksgiving, and Jules had naively misunderstood. He’d eagerly leapt back into David’s arms—only to get his heart broken all over again.
Hobbit could’ve writtenthatscript with dead accuracy.
“Hob’s really great,” Jules told Sam. “I always thoughtthe world would open up for him when he went to college. He was supposed to go to this funky little school in Florida—the Ringling School of Design—but his plans got... derailed. He was—he still is, I’m sure—an amazing artist. He was an actor, too. At least back in high school. I’m glad he finally left Connecticut, although, God, helping Rod with Connie’s hospice care had to have been unbelievably hard.”
“I can’t imagine,” Sam said as Jules phone swooshed.
He looked, and... “Oh, good. Lindsey just texted a photo of Clayton Spencer. She says it's a few years old, so picture less hair on the top of his head. And... apparently just last year he was the subject of an investigation into extortion and conspiracy charges that unfortunately went nowhere. But, damn Lindsey! Good work.” He sent her back a quick TY and an emoji heart. “She just sent me names and photos of ten, no eleven men who are alleged to be connected to Spencer, either working with him or for him.” He zapped the photos over to Rod, then looked up at Sam. “You wanna bet that if I show these to Rene or Cathy or Paula, they’ll recognize at least a few faces as being part of the estate’s so-called security team?”
“I wouldn’t bet against that,” Sam agreed. “But there’s no crime in being hired for unnecessary security.”
“Yeah, but who do you think dug the graves in the garden?” Jules asked. “Certainly not Harper or even Spencer.” He swiped through Lindsey’s list. “Was it John Falkner or Peter Gates? Maybe Ivan Lenkovich?” This info was invaluable. He looked up at Sam. “I want a Lindsey Jenkins of my very own.”
Sam had the audacity to full-on laugh in his face. “Yeah, that’s one operative even you can’t steal from Tommy Paoletti. Lindsey loves Tom almost as much as Jenk does.”
“I didn’t say I was going to steal her,” Jules protested. “Just, you know, maybe borrow her for, I don’t know, four or five days a week?”
“Never gonna happen,” Sam said and the phone finally rang.
