Page 150 of Oddly Fine

“Drive!” Matthew snapped belligerently, like he would order a servant.

“Not before you tell us what’s got you acting like someone shoved a hot poker up your ass,” Beckett replied with a frown.

Matthew scowled and avoided his gaze like a rebellious teenager.

“Whatever it is, we can’t help you if we’re left in the dark,” Hayes said, attempting to smooth things over as he observed him in the rearview mirror. He cut off the engine and sat there patiently waiting for Matthew to speak.

Matthew’s scowl disappeared as he appeared to resign himself to the fact that he wasn’t going anywhere until he told them what was on his mind. He sighed and looked up at Beckett.

“My uncle does not call meetings. He’s only ever done it twice before to my knowledge and they weren’t meetings as much as—” he hesitated, and Beckett saw his eye twitch as he fought for control.

“Orgies?” Beckett suggested with a wink, even though he was pretty sure that wasn’t the correct answer.

“Executions,” Hayes surmised, looking grim.

Matthew swallowed hard and nodded as he met Hayes’ eyes in the rearview mirror before looking out the window again.

“You think he caught wind of what you’re doing and is planning to—what? Shoot you in the middle of the meeting? Wouldn’t that be a little—” he hesitated, since Matthew looked about two minutes away from puking. “Messy?”

“I doubt he cares,” Matthew said, shaking his head. “If he knows what I’ve been up to, he’ll need to put on a big show when he kills me—to make an example of me to keep the others in line,” he said, swallowing against a tight knot of fear in his throat that threatened to choke him. He looked pale—like a man about to walk the gallows, which Beckett thought was fully justified.

With a loud sigh, Beckett turned to Hayes.

“Start the car,” Beckett directed, since apparently, he was going to be tied up coaching Matthew on how to handle his potential execution.

“Where am I going?” Hayes asked, sounding mildly amused, contemplating what Beckett was about to attempt.

Matthew gave Hayes the address for him to put into the GPS, while Beckett started coming up with some ideas about what to do next.

“You look like you’re about to puke on your expensive suit,” Beckett said, eyeing the designer shirt and suit that cost more than he made in a month.

“Did you miss the part where I’m going to die today?”

“You’re not,” Beckett said, hoping he sounded convincing. “We were careful. Very careful. There’s no way for him to know what we’ve been up to. He might suspect something, but I’d bet my left nut on the fact that he doesn’t have enough to accuse you of anything. Your outward reactions to his questions, if you’re not careful, could be the final nail in your coffin, and right now—you look like you’re already 6 feet under. You can’t walk in there looking guilty. That’s gotta change.”

“I can’t help it,” Matthew hissed angrily.

Of course, Beckett was aware that he wasn’t the real, intended target of Matthew’s anger, but it was a prime example of what had to be fixed before walking into the meeting.

“That’s where you’re wrong, Al Capone! Trapped animals fight back when they know death is coming. They show their teeth, they lash out, they act like they already know what’s coming. If you go into that meeting ready to fight, or ready to die, he’ll know he was right. You have to come at this another way. You need to act innocent from the get-go. Walk in there like you’re dying to know who will get in trouble. Like it couldn’t possibly be you. It has to look like you don’t have a single care in the world and that you’re simply an innocent bystander who’s there for the show.”

“How?” he asked between clenched teeth, clearly unhappy but willing to listen to what Beckett was recommending.

“Acting,” Beckett said with a shrug. It really wasn’t all that complex. “Whatever suave mafioso mask you usually hide behind, then you need to put that on right now and give it your all. Make jokes, avoid fidgeting, smile, and lean back. Take up as much space as possible in the room. You’ll have to fake a confidence you’re not feeling. Anything short of your usual arrogant, entitled mannerisms will automatically make you look guilty,” Beckett instructed calmly.

Matthew looked doubtful, but he gave a curt nod like he was taking note of the points that Beckett had made.

“Hayes will be with you, right?” Beckett asked.

“No, it would be best if neither one of you go in with me,” Matthew said, shaking his head.

“Why?”

“Because if Mario decides to kill me, then—”

“They’ll shoot your guard as well,” Hayes finished for him, voice was as steady as ever, sounding like he was giving the local weather report.

Beckett glanced at Hayes. He was looking straight ahead, unconcerned, body relaxed, no sign that he felt threatened or worried. Hayes glanced over at him when they stopped at a red light, winked and nodded, which answered Beckett’s silent query.