Page 30 of But For You

“So?”

“So?” he growled on his end. “Fine,” he snapped at me. “The account is yours, but if you screw⁠—”

“I’m sorry. When, precisely, have I ever not come through for you?”

He grunted but said nothing.

“I’ll need the deposit transferred tomorrow and all the specifications for the event.” I was using my Stepford wife voice just to piss him off, the perky one.

“Fine.”

“Good.”

There was a silence—our usual one, where we both decided to climb down off our high horses.

“So, are you hungry?” he finally said. “Would you like to have lunch?”

“I can’t. I wish I could. I gotta go down to look at my van and get a rental.”

“Why are you renting anything?”

So, I explained about the man freaking out from road rage earlier and how I had gotten knocked out in the stupidest maneuver ever and then continued on about the most important part, where I told him all about Kevin Dwyer.

“Shall I come collect you?”

“No, that’s okay. I⁠—”

“I don’t mind,” he told me. “And this way, I can check out Dwyer on my way over.”

“What do you mean?” He had my interest.

“Well, we can do some background research.”

“Like google him?”

“More than that. I have people whose only job is to check out other people for me. You know this.”

“Yeah, okay, come get me.”

“Be right there.”

His be right there took him half an hour to reach me, but I did some last-minute packing with all four suitcases on the bed in the guest room—mine, Sam’s, and one for each of the kids. Sam had said that my clothes and his could go in together, but I had shoes to pack, and jackets, and … he gave up and packed a duffel bag since I was taking a garment bag for his suit and mine.

In Aaron’s immaculately kept vintage Lincoln Town Car, I greeted his driver, Miguel, who had worked for him for years.

“Nice to see you, Mr. Harcourt.” He smiled as he closed the door behind me.

“Are you still driving this old thing, Miguel?” I asked as he got in.

“We keep upgrading it; don’t let the outside fool you.”

“Oh, no, I get that I’m in Batman’s car.”

He chuckled as Aaron patted my leg in hello and passed me his iPad. There was Kevin Dwyer, MD, and all his stats.

“This is just⁠—”

“Scroll to page two,” he said drolly.