Sam closes the laptop. He dries his hands, pockets his keys, and leaves.
It’s a good day for mistakes.
It’s a fifteen-minute drive when he gets to his destination.
Tom looks surprised when he opens the door—T-shirt, socks, expression halfway between wary and polite. “Sam?”
“Tom.” Sam smiles as if this is the most natural thing in the world. “I was driving by. Thought I’d pop in.”
Tom blinks. “How do you even know where I live?”
“Pete,” Sam says smoothly. It’s plausible. He could’ve found it that way.
Tom softens a little. Then frowns. “Right. What can I do for you?”
Sam leans against the doorframe. “Just thought I’d check in. See how you were doing. I drove past the other day, and there was this bloke hanging around. Dark hair, suit, trying to get in. Looked like he knew the place. Think he had keys.”
Tom freezes for a second, his breath catching in a way that tells Sam everything. Bingo.
That was of course a lie, but he’s still dying to find out who this guy is who keeps rummaging through his house when he’s out. Maybe the direct approach is the best way.
“Ex?” Sam asks, casual.
Tom exhales. “Something like that. It’s nothing.”
Nothing is never nothing. But Sam lets it slide, smiling like it’s all fine. “Still, be careful. World’s full of weirdos.”
“That it is,” Tom says, but he’s smiling now, softening.
Sam lowers his voice, adopting the tone of a friend who knows more than he should. “Look, the house is tense right now. Over there. Pressure’s building. James is unpredictable. I know you and Pete have your little thing bubbling away, but you’d be wise to stay clear for a bit.”
“Oh, really?” Tom frowns.
“Yeah, James, bless him, he can get stressed out and take things a little too far sometimes.”
“So I hear,” Tom says quickly.
“Oh?” Sam’s ears prick up. “What has Pete been telling you?”
Sam notices Tom’s breathing is deepening. “Not just Pete. I’ve heard some other things.”
“Like?”
Before considering whether he should open his mouth, Tom continues. “The police investigations, two assault charges that got dropped, intimidation complaints. I know James has a history of this kind of thing.”
Sam’s head tilts, curious. “Police?”
“Yes, police,” Tom confirms.
“That’s not remotely true,” Sam says. “James has never been investigated for anything. Not once. He’s far too careful for that. Whoever told you that was lying—or wanted to scare you off.”
Tom frowns.
And Sam is telling the truth here. James has a temper, a dangerous temper, yes. But, Police investigations, assault charges? That is absolutely fiction.
“Oh,” Tom says, looking bemused.
Who has been lying to you, Tom?Sam wonders.
