“THE LAWYERS ARE WORKING on it, but we keep hitting a wall.” Rhyson shakes his head, dismay darkening his gray eyes to slate. “It’s the weekend, so that’s part of it, but these guys can usually break through anything. Even getting this private meeting room was near impossible, and usually a good bribe can pull that off easily. Some high ups must be monitoring your case really closely.”
He splits a careful glance between me and Grip, who faces us from the other side of the table, dressed in royal blue scrubs with “LA County Jail” emblazoned on the back. It’s incongruous. Awful and incongruous to see my brilliant poet in this garb. This man whose record is cleaner than mine when so many things where he grew up could have left smudges on him. That was the thing his mother was most proud of, and because of me, that’s gone.
Grip has been uncharacteristically quiet. Anger dulls the eyes usually lit with humor, intelligence. For me—desire, love.
“My mom’s coming?” he asks, not acknowledging Rhyson’s comment at all. “She knows to come here, right?”
Rhyson and I exchange a concerned look.
“Yeah, Gep made sure she knows we got this room. Did you hear me, Marlon?” Rhyson presses. “We keep running into walls, but we’re working on it.”
“Any idea what’s behind it all?” Grip asks the question of Rhyson, but his eyes rest on me. “Why I was set up in the first place?”
With a look, Rhyson and I silently agree to tell him.
“We think it may be Parker.” I clear my throat and drop my eyes to the imitation wood of the table. “So, it’s probably my fault.”
“Not your fault, Bristol,” Rhyson says quickly. “But I do agree that Parker is the only person with motivation and power enough to throw up the kind of road blocks the lawyers keep encountering.”
“They won’t make any headway.” I run a trembling hand through my hair.
“How would you know that, Bristol?” Grip’s question, his voice so hard it hurts my ears. “You sound really certain.”
“I mean, I’m guessing.” I shrug one shoulder, toying with the bangles on my wrist “If it’s Parker, he’ll have thought of everything.”
“I bet he has.” Grip’s eyes rest so heavily on me I feel them even though I’m still not looking at him. I tuck my swollen bottom lip in my mouth, hoping he won’t notice.
“Well, we’re not giving up. Gep’s calling in favors with all his old fed contacts. See what we can find.” Rhyson glances at his watch. “I gotta run. Luke’s got a session he needs me to sit in on, but the lawyers will keep working.”
He stands and crooks a grin at us.
“Besides, I assume you guys want a few minutes alone.” He tips his head toward the cameras in the corner of the ceiling. “Don’t give ’em too much of a show.”
I glance at Grip, but there’s no answering smile. No acknowledgment of Rhyson’s joke. He stands, and they do that man hug thing, pounding on each other’s backs.
“I’m gonna get you out of here,” Rhyson says. “I’m sorry you’re not out already.”
“Not your fault, man.” Grip fist pounds Rhyson before taking his seat, his eyes latching on to me again. “Thanks for all you’re doing.”
“Bye, sis.” Rhyson drops a kiss on my hair. “Stay out of trouble. Let me handle this Parker shit.”
I nod but focus on the hands in my lap. I’m usually an excellent liar, but the dilemma with Parker has stripped all my guard away, and I don’t trust my own subterfuge to hold under their sharp eyes.
Once Rhyson leaves, I’m not sure what to do with myself or with Grip. I lay my hand on the table, in hopes that he’ll reach for it, but he doesn’t. He’s quiet and intent, dissecting me with his stare.
“What?” I hazard a glance up to meet his eyes. “Why are you so quiet? You’re angry. I understand. You wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for me.”
He doesn’t reply, but the expressive curve of his mouth is stiff as wax. He slumps in his seat and links his hands behind his head, the muscles of his arms flexing.
“Say something.” I gnaw at my bottom lip. “I promise I’m going to fix this.”
He reaches into his pocket and pulls out his closed fist. Slowly, his eyes never leaving my face, he opens his fist and drops a delicate gold chain on the table.
“Did you lose that, Bristol?”
My hand flies to my throat. I know the necklace isn’t there. Parker took it from me last night, and now Grip has it. I can’t assemble these pieces into anything that makes sense.
That son of a bitch.