“You know what this is about?” I ask.
“Potentially.”
“What the fuck, dude, and you didn’t think to warn me?”
His cheeks flush. “I said I had something to talk to you about.”
“You think this is about somethingyoudid?”
He nods and then shakes his head like he’s unsure. “I don’t know. Hope not.”
But when we get to my father’s office and the door is already open, I realize this is more serious than even Beverly let on.
“What the hell did you do?”
Chapter 7
Lance
Six Years Ago
My father’s study is a mausoleum dressed up as a room.
Dark wood paneling, leather furniture, and shelves lined with books he’s never read but keeps because he thinks they make him look cultured. The fireplace is lit despite the summer heat, and it casts an ominous glow over everything.
Craig Calloway sits behind his massive desk like a king on a throne, his fingers steepled beneath his chin, his expression carved from stone. He doesn’t look surprised to see us. He doesn’t look like anything at all, really.
But he’s not alone.
There’s a man standing by the fireplace I’ve never seen before. Tall, with shoulder length black hair tucked neatly behind his ear. His face is gaunt, but there’s something oddly familiar about it, like maybe I’ve seen it in a dream.
He’s watching us the way a cat watches a mouse it’s already decided to kill.
And beside him, leaning against the bookshelf with his arms crossed and a smile that doesn’t reach his eyes, is my father’s lawyer, Frederick Lawrence.
Freddy.
I’ve known him almost as long as I’ve known Beverly. He’s the town’s best attorney and a close family friend. He floats his way from Calloways to the Montgomerys and even the Voltaires. Legal stuff, mostly. At least, that’s what people say. But there’s always been something about him that made my skin crawl.
“Ah,” my father says. “The birthday boy and his sidekick return.”
Art shifts beside me, and the fear radiates from him in waves. Whatever this is, it’s bad. Worse than bad.
“What’s going on?” I ask.
“Sit down, Lance.”
It’s not a request, because nothing my father says to me ever is. But I ignore him, anyway.
“I said sit.”
“And I asked what’s going on.”
The man by the fireplace laughs. “He’s got spirit. I can see why you have trouble with him, Craig.”
“Forgive his manners, Brutus. There’s only so much you instill in someone who came out wrong at birth.”
My chest smarts and I grit my teeth through the familiar pain.
