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And Kyra, in her fuck-me red suit and pitiless smile... drilling away at Storm Media. She even dug up a case of Dad back in his university years plagiarizing some history paper. Jesus fucking Christ. Dad was 19, for fuck's sake.
As I leave the bathroom, Kyra's leaving the courtroom.
"Too bad you missed it." She pouts, although her eyes are dancing. "The judge wants to see all your dad's notebooks from the past five years. Thinks there might be something in them."
I eye her coolly. "Of course, he's welcome to them. We'll hand them over as soon as we have them."
"Who knows, they might actually help your case," she returns easily. "God knows you need it."
That's not all I need right now...
She rips her gaze off mine, frowning. "Oh, and Landon?"
"What?"
"Don't call me again. It's not going to win you any brownie points."
"Not doing it for that."
Her gaze snaps to mine, then retreats. "Whatever. Just leave me alone."
"My pleasure."
"Great."
"Great."
I storm out of the building, not even waiting for Dirk. I don't need to see his dire face to know that things are progressing quickly and shittily.
On the way out, I pause to try calling up Greyson. Maybe he knows where Dad's notebooks are. Kyra strides by me without a second look, then gets in her older-looking Volkswagen.
My first call to Greyson goes straight to voicemail. Next one, same thing.
Kyra rushes out of her car, phone to her ear, looking distraught.
"Hey?" I say, as she passes by.
"Don't." She waves me away, then continues talking into the phone. "Hello? Yes, I need a tow truck here immediately. I'm at the Bererier Courthouse on Blythe." A pause, presumably while they answer. "Wait, what?!?"
Her eyes bug out of her head. "You won't be able to get one here for another three hours? This is New York, for Christ's sake!"
She hangs up, muttering, "Shit, shit, shit."
"Somewhere you need to be?" I ask.
"Just - go away." She exhales hard. "I don't need this right now."
"No, what you need is a car, by the sound of it."
She hardly hears, by the looks of it, is muttering to herself, "Yeah, Mom, great freaking idea - use Dad's old Volkswagen. 'If it ain't broke, don't fix it' - except yes, it is broke and it keeps breaking and now, at the worst time possible, it's broken again!"
She forces out an exhale, gives her head a shake as though to physically dislodge the panic written all over her face. "Screw it. I'll just call a goddamn cab." She winces, probably thinking the same thing I am: cabs in New York are notoriously shit, sometimes come half an hour late - if they decide to come at all. "Or an Uber..." Jamming at her phone, she groans. "No, no... not now."
"Phone die?" I ask.
"What, come to laugh at my shitty luck?" she snarls, glaring at me.
"Nope." I shrug. "Offer for a ride is still up for grabs."
"I don't need a ride, I need a car and..." She pauses and I can almost see the gears turning in her head. "Actually, you know what? A ride would be awesome. If you could just drop me off at Pamela's place, that would be great."
"Sure," I say smoothly. "And our dinner?"
Her fists ball. "Are you actually trying to blackmail me right now? Because I'm so not in the mood."
"Wouldn't dream of it. So, are we on?"
She glares at me. "You're seriously doing this?"
I just smile, and she exhales. "Of course you're seriously doing this." She throws up her hands. "You know what? Fine. OK. Let's get this shit over with. Dinner tonight - at eight?"
"Bit late for dinner," I comment.
Her eyes narrow even further. "Tonight or never - up to you." A significant smile plays on her lips, and I have to resist the urge to tap the tip of her nose like I used to when she was being sassy. "Of course, if it were up to me, it would be never. But it seems like you've left me no choice."
"Alright, tonight it is," I say, heading for my car. "You're still friends with Pamela?"
"Well, she's never let me down," she says with a pointed look my way, following alongside.
Yep, if knife-throwing were a sport, something tells me Kyra would be a master at it.
"Can we have one normal conversation where you aren't biting my head off?" I ask.
As she gets into my car, Kyra tilts her head, pretending to think it over. "Hmm... let me see... no?"
"You know, you weren't totally in the clear back then, either," I point out, getting in myself.
"Hold on." She barks out a laugh. "Are you actually trying to excuse what you did?"
"No, not at all. It was a dick move. I just..." I shake my head. "Forget it. You knew I wasn't comfortable with your friend Andy, and you just tried to laugh it all off."
