“What?” I say, my eyes widening. “For what?”
“Assault,” she tells me. “He just beat the hell out of Matteo in the lobby of the Augustus. Actually,” she concedes, catching her breath, “more like they beat the hell out of each other.”
“Is he hurt?” I ask.
Shawn shrugs. “I’m not sure, but it sounds like Jamie’s father is a real piece of shit. Nina saw the whole thing, and she told me that his father broke up the fight by choking him unconscious. I guess Matteoand a security guard had to pull his dad off of him. Nina said it was scary—they thought he was going to kill him.”
I cover my mouth, horrified. Thinking about the look on Jamie’s face when he left for the resort after ignoring his dad’s call.
Shawn pauses, catching her breath before continuing. “The sheriff and an ambulance are there now,” she adds. “But they have Jamie in cuffs. He seems all right otherwise because they’re taking him to the jail. And his father let everyone know that he wouldn’t be bailing his son out.”
“But he’s okay?” I ask. The idea of Jamie bloodied and bruised physically hurts me. When Shawn nods, I’m grateful.
“After everything that’s happened,” Tech says, “why does Matteo care about Jamie? He has bigger fucking problems.”
“I’ve given up trying to figure out men,” Shawn says easily, glancing back toward the resort.
If I were to guess, Matteo is lashing out at Jamie because he feels threatened by him. His relationship with me, with Jordan—his distance from the Collective. And Matteo is also grieving, so I’m sure attacking Jamie was his way to feel something—anything—else.
“There he goes,” Shawn says, motioning to the police car as it leaves the resort. I think we can assume that Jamie is in the backseat.
Tech blows out a cleansing breath. “Well,” he says, folding his hands on top of his head. “Who do we know that can afford bail money?”
I absolutely hate what I have to do right now.
I walk onto the pool deck of the Augustus Resort and see Jordan, thankfully alone, on a sun lounger. She’s wearing large sunglasses and a designer bathing suit. She looks magazine rich—cover ready.
Nervous, I cross to her chair and sit next to her. She doesn’t notice at first.
“I need to talk to you,” I say, and she jumps. Jordan pulls up hersunglasses, looking absolutely shocked to find me next to her. She darts her gaze around the pool area before sitting up and facing me.
“What the hell do you want?” she asks, but she’s more uncomfortable than cruel. She doesn’t want to be seen alone with me, which would wound my pride if I didn’t feel exactly the same way.
“Jamie needs your help,” I say, keeping my voice low.
She scoffs, then quickly pulls herself together again. “Then he can ask me himself,” she says. She pulls her sunglasses down again and lies back in her chair.
“He already used his one phone call,” I tell her. “It was to his mother. She said… she said no.”
Jordan’s jaw flexes, and then she turns me, removing her glasses again. “How do you know that?” she asks.
“The sheriff told me,” I say, my heart hurting. When I called the station, my uncle let me know that Jamie would be locked up for the night and that he probably wouldn’t be getting out anytime soon. “Jamie called his mom,” I tell Jordan, “but she refused to pay his bail. The sheriff said his hands are tied. He can’t help him. Jamie will have to stay there until it’s paid.”
“Why doesn’t he get a lawyer?” Jordan asks.
I tilt my head, as if it’s obvious. “Because his father owns all the lawyers in town.”
Jordan’s eyes weaken, and I see vulnerability there. The way Jamie’s parents have abandoned him—how the Collective can so easily abandon one of their own—it means that it can happen to her, too.
After a moment, Jordan pulls off her sunglasses and straightens her back. She takes out her phone and checks a few of her apps. “How much is bail?” she asks.
“Fivethousand,” I tell her. She curses under her breath. After a few more taps, she sets her phone aside. She glances at me, as if impatient.
“Well?” she asks. “Where do we go to pay it? I’m not just going to hand you the money.”
I have to laugh, like this would be some grift to steal a few thousand from her. I stand up and text Shawn to bring the truck up to the resort.
“We’ll be out front,” I tell her. Jordan nods, but makes no movement to leave with me. I’m sure she’ll want to exit separately and preserve her image. I start to walk away, but stop to look at her.
