“When was this?”
“This week,” Grant replies, moving on to another slide. This one is a video. “This footage is from the camera on the house next door to Dorothy’s residence. Taken while the entire Sugar staff was accounted for.”
“At retreat,” I whisper.
“At the yearly retreat.” He gives me a look. “We were prepared for the possibility of an inside job. We had not, unfortunately, considered that it might happen at Dorothy’s residence instead of remotely, or here, in the offices. However, we now have log-in times and footage of Mr. Wabash arriving at the location, as well as his fingerprints on Dorothy’s home computer. That, along with the multiple dummy payments made on his behalf, is more than enough for a conviction.”
“And here”—Grant hands folders out to all five investors—“are your buyout packets.”
Someone gasps. Dorothy’s ex-bestie looks sick to her stomach right now. Good. She should be. This is what betrayal looks like.
“Thank you, Grant.”
“Thank you, Dorothy.” Grant picks up his computer and gives the room one last look before heading out. Do his eyes linger on me a split second longer than the others? Maybe. But I can’t think about that right now.
“In light of the events leading up to today, as well as the clear breakdown in communication between us—dear investors—please understand that this is a onetime, formal buyout proposal from me. Please get back to me within the next twenty-four to forty-eight hours. I urge you to accept what are excellent terms.” She’s standing there, giving Patti LuPone asEvitavibes, and it takes every bit of my restraint not to slow clap. “Thank you for coming. Please see yourselves out.”
Cue the standing ovation.
CHAPTER SIXTY-EIGHT
Grant
OCTOBER
IT’S LATE. I’M TRUDGINGup my porch steps when Dorothy speaks from the porch next door. “You regret it yet?”
“Regret what?”
“Don’t play stupid. I’m so tired of stupid men.”
I sigh, turn, and look over at where Dorothy’s quietly sitting in the dark, waiting to pounce. She lights a joint now, confirming that she has indeed been lying stealthily in wait for me.
“Yes.” I sink heavily into my porch chair. “I regret losing her.”
“Yeah, well, I was sad to lose her at Sugar.” A pregnant pause. “We had lunch today. She seems pretty good. Rae’s got chutzpah,” she says.
“She does.”
“You know I lost two good people because of you?”
“How do you figure?”
“Well, we lost Sam, though she’s back on as a consultant. Much better for everyone this way. Hourly work. A little freedom. And we don’t need to worry about her internet security at home.”
“I’m glad.”
“And then you made my jane-of-all-trades start saying no to everyone.”
“About time.”
“Yeah. I should have nipped it in the bud earlier. I waited too late. Now she’s gone.”
“You’re blaming me for this?”
“Nah. I’m just teasing you. Don’t blame you for either one. Although the way you’ve been slinking around lately, you’d be an easy target if I wanted to.”
I laugh, though there’s not much humor in it. I am bone-tired after a long day at the house I’m renovating over on Floyd. It’s a good one. Not as big as mine and nowhere near the bigger projects I’d planned to take on, but it’s got details that’ll make someone very happy. The downtown building’s progressing with a big, professional crew, but nothing’s quite as satisfying as working with my own hands. I stayed extra late tonight, hoping to block out the fact that Rae might be out, just a few blocks away, dressed to the nines, the brightest, most beautiful person in the entire club.
