“Again, not my boyfriend,” she said, eyes never leaving mine. “I don’t understand. How did this happen?”
“You weren’t the only one soul searching, Michelle. Although… you were the only one going on dates.”
“It was a meeting.” She smiled.
“Whatever you say. Anyway, there’s more.”
“I’m not sure my heart can handle more.”
“This is a good ‘more.’ We’re moving to Ventura.”
“Moving?” The word didn’t immediately compute. “Wait—we’re moving?”
“Yes. North. Next county over. About an hour’s drive. Close to the beach for me, far enough from the worry for you.”
“I’m… stunned.”
“But are you happy?”
“I… yes. I think it would be great for our family. But Scott, you love Venice Beach. You’d really leave everything behind?”
“I would do anything for you and the kids. Anything.”
That landed. I could see it in her eyes.
“What about Mitchell?”
I winced. Couldn’t help it. Not being a five-minute drive to my son pained me. “April and I are figuring it out. We’ll have him on weekends. Drive down for his baseball games then bring him back to Ventura with us. She’s agreed to meet me halfway when needed.”
“You talked to April about this before me?”
“I had to. I couldn’t accept the Ventura job without a plan for MGM.”
She gave a tiny nod.
“So that was step one,” I said. “Step two involves the cases of alcohol I pilfered. I’m buying units back and slipping them onto the shelves, so when they do inventory, they’ll have no idea anything was ever missing. Step three is getting rid of Marty. Because once those cases aren’t ‘missing,’ he’s got zero leverage. No evidence, no blackmail. End of Marty.”
Michelle stared at me, like she couldn’t decide whether to kiss me or turn me in.
“Scott,” she whispered, grabbing my face. “That’s… actually brilliant.” Then her brows knit as the flaws in my plan appeared. “Where are you getting the money to buy the cases?”
“That’s the part where I stop sounding brilliant,” I said. “I lost the truck.”
She dropped her hands. “How do youlosethe Shaggin’ Wagon? It only goes ten miles an hour.”
I unloaded the whole humiliating saga. By the time I finished, Michelle was less than thrilled.
“I had such high hopes for a moment.”
“Believe me, I know.” I took a breath. “So far, I’ve replaced about sixty percent of the cases with the nine hundred I did get. To cover the rest… I’m considering selling my ass on Sunset Strip.”
“You’d do that—for me?”
“Anything for you, Babe. Bet your rich pal wouldn’t prostitute himself for you.”
“No,” she said. “No, I don’t imagine he would.”
We laughed together, a brief, needed release. But a question still hung between us.
