Page 49 of The Wedding Party

“How’d she react to seeing you again?”

“Pretended it didn’t happen while holding on as tight as she could to Oliver. I wanted to tell him so many times, but I knew we wouldn’t come back from that. Either way I went was wrong. I seethed, and he felt it. The secret hurt our friendship. And when we had a blowup about a financial deal, at its core, it was about Carrie. I was out of his life, and believe you me, she was happy about it. Ask me how I know?”

“How do you know?”

“I ran into her at that same coffee shop.” His gaze is back on the stairwell, lingering before he looks at me. “She told me I lured him into that financial deal because I couldn’t lure him to another woman.” He laughs bitterly. “I should have done just that. Lured him to another woman.”

He’s right. He should have. “Why did you come to the party?”

“Josh is close to us both.” His jaw clenches. “Was close to us both.” He slugs back a long swallow of his drink before he adds, “He told me Oliver wanted me at the party but knew Carrie would freak out. I said fuck that bitch, and here I am.”

“When was the last time you saw him?”

“He left about two, said Carrie would expect him.”

“And when did you leave?”

“Later, and not alone. I was with one of the dancers. Sherry the cherry. And she was. We went to her room, and I didn’t leave until dawn. We made a video. It’s time stamped. You can see it if you want.”

“Out of fear I’ll have to bleach my eyes afterward,” I say, “keep it. If I can’t confirm your alibi outside your Pornhub tryout, I’ll get back to you.”

“At least look at the time stamp.”

“Fine. Show it to me.”

He pulls up his phone and hands it to me. I watch about ten seconds in which the female is already undressing and check the time stamp. I hand him the phone back.

He smirks. “Was that enough?”

“That was more than enough.”

The corners of his mouth lift slightly. “Just let me know if you need more. I promise to come through.”

I ignore his tasteless remarks. “Why are you on bad terms with the rest of the men in the wedding party?”

“I got drunk one night after the fight with Oliver and critiqued each of them,” he says. “Cade, the arrogant prick who can’t find a good investment any more than he can find his own dick. Trevor, who tries too hard. And Nick, who can’t commit to anything but his wallet, proven by the fact that he’s proposed to three different women but always gets cold feet.”

“That wasn’t very friendly of you,” I observe.

“Apparently, they agreed. They didn’t like my assessment.”

“What do they say about you?”

“That I’m an asshole, which is fine. I’m all about keeping it real.”

“Then keep it real with me right now. Do you think Carrie killed Oliver?”

“I have an ER background, so do I think being covered in blood makes her guilty? No. Do I think she’s capable of killing? I don’t know. I spent a lot of time hating her, but my time away from Oliver gave me perspective on a lot of things, namely her. She didn’t know who I was when we met, either. I do believe that. Hating her was hurting us all. She loved him. I believe that, but isn’t it usually the ones we love who hurt us?”

“Sounds like you speak from experience?”

“Observation,” he amends. “My father’s a politician and an expert at what I call BDSM mind fucks. Ask my mother, the nurse.”

A nurse.

Like Carrie.

As for what BDSM mind fucks are—I can imagine, and that description explains so much about Brody. My question is what exactly it says about his “brother” Oliver and Oliver’s fiancée, Carrie.