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Evan smiles and shakes his head. “Do you really want to lose millions of dollars for the sake of retaliation? You’re all agreeing to this?” he asks the others, who simply nod. It’s Anthony pulling the strings, they’re here just to intimidate us. “Our lawyers were expecting this sort of proposal.” The amused tone Evan takes while studying the paper sounds more like thinking out loud than a threat, and this has a more significant effect than any other strategy.
The five mannequins seem to believe him and hand another piece of paper to Anthony.
It’s not true—our lawyers are as desperate as we are—but hope is rekindled when another piece of paper is slipped toward Evan.
“Or, for this amount, we can decide to release the Red Velvet Curtains and the Jailbirds from any obligation.” The words echo in my chest, and I hope they don’t notice my surprise. Can there really be a solution that accomplishes both?
Evan laughs. “One hundred million dollars when you just offered me the solution on a silver platter with the first proposal?” He gets up from his chair and I follow him, a little disoriented. “See you in court.”
We reach the door, seeing the five mannequins whiten and Anthony smile. “I can’t wait.” His voice follows us into the hallway.
I have a thousand questions to ask Evan because I missed what happened in the last part of the meeting, but I don’t dare talk until we’re out of here, away from prying ears and eyes.
“Is there really a solution?” I ask him in a whisper as soon as we reach the street.
Evan looks around anxiously and then slips into an alley. I follow him, unable to explain his behavior until I see him leaning against the wall with one hand, bending forward, and vomiting.
I’m so surprised that I stay still until he straightens up, and I hand him a tissue to clean his mouth. He is pale, his eyes glassy, and a doomed expression on his face.
“To answer your question, there is no solution. I just couldn’t give away that we’re desperate. It’s like offering a carcass to sharks: they’ll devour everything.”
“Not even with that last proposal?” I ask as we leave the alley and call Max to pick us up.
“Do you have a hundred million dollars you can spare?” His tone is so severe that I close my mouth. “Not a word to anyone until I have a clearer picture of the situation,” he orders me before getting into the car.
“Evan…” Words die in my throat when he nails me with his gaze.
“Not a single word,” he hisses before making room for me to climb in.
I sit next to him, and when I hear him order Max to take us to the office, I turn to him. He is pulling off his tie, dirty with vomit, folding it and putting it at his feet, and pulling another one out of the inner pocket of his jacket. I didn’t even think people carried around spare ties anymore, yet Evan is prepared for everything he does in life, except saving his friends. The shadow of failure darkens his perfect face.
“Evan, you just threw up in an alley. Maybe you should go home and rest.”
I see Max glance at us worriedly from the rear-view mirror as he gives him a bottle of water. Evan drinks some but never meets my gaze.
“I said we’re going to the office. End of discussion.” His tone is severe and makes me angry. Does he actually not realize that he needs to stop and catch his breath?
“Evan, you’re sick.” I can’t let go of the topic.
He turns to me with his gray eyes, nailing me to the seat. “I said we’re going back to the office. I’m your boss, and you’ll do what I tell you!” He raises his voice for emphasis.
It’s the first time I’ve seen him really angry, and it both surprises me and makes me furious.
“You know what? Do what you want. When you drop dead because you’re too stubborn to accept advice from anyone, I’ll give you a loud ‘I told you so,’” I hiss, unable to contain the anger that mounts inside me.
Max throws me another worried look, but I shake my head, not knowing how to reassure him. When we return to Jail Records, I watch Evan giving orders as if nothing had happened. I follow him inside the conference room, keeping my mouth shut and swallowing the panic eating me up inside.
***
My anger lasts precisely eight hours, time enough for it to fade and give way to worry. It wasn’t hard to find Evan’s address in the Jail Records’ employee records, and when I ring him to let me into the top floor where his apartment is, his voice is surprised. I’m nervous getting into the elevator because I have no idea how my intrusion might look, but I can’t stand by and watch as he collapses under the weight of this dilemma. When the doors open, it isn’t difficult for me to recognize which apartment is his since he’s waiting for me with the door wide open and a puzzled look.
“What are you doing here?”
I raise the bag in my hand. “I thought I’d bring you some stomach remedies.”
A slight smile appears on his lips as he shakes his head and steps aside to let me in. I look at his clothing and frown. “Really, Evan, khakis and a dress shirt?” I blurt out, bewildered.
He looks at his clothing and then up at me. “What’s wrong?”
