Page 129 of Wicked Brutal

“According to Ashford.”

“According to someone I trust considerably more than Ashford.”

Dad lowers his voice. “Something is moving above us.”

Victor looks irritated rather than surprised.

The waiter comes by to check on us, and both men shift seamlessly into a conversation about nothing. The weather. Traffic. Some event Victor attended earlier in the week. I eat. Smile when appropriate. Let Victor touch my knee. And wait.

By the time their conversation returns to ordinary things, I have repeated every name and every fragment so many times that they feel carved into the inside of my skull.

I wait another ten minutes before reaching for my purse. “Excuse me. I’m going to use the ladies’ room.”

Victor moves his hand from my knee. “Of course.”

I walk away from the table at a normal pace. Only when the bathroom door closes behind me do I breathe properly. I check the stalls. Empty. Then I pull out my phone.

Ryan has already texted.

Ryan: you alive

barely. victor wants four children

Ryan: he can want in one hand and shit in the other

A laugh escapes before I can stop it. I cover my mouth.

romantic

Ryan: I’m a poet

clearly

Ryan: you okay though

My smile fades.

yeah. roman is being roman. victor is gross but manageable

Ryan: what happened

nothing. later. I heard stuff

Ryan: tell me

I type everything. Hollis. Bellamy. The Ellison Foundation. Ashford. London becoming Palm Beach. The Marlow Club. Mercer. Vane. Calder. Then the last one.

and they keep calling someone the Chairman

Ryan: the Chairman?

yes. always THE Chairman. no name

I tell him what Victor said. Nobody calls him. If the Chairman wants Hollis, Hollis gets called. Bellamy supposedly spoke directly to him. Everything eventually leads back to him.

Ryan’s answer takes several seconds.

Ryan: that’s hierarchy