“You found me.”
She’s holding a laptop, carrying it like a book in school.
“I want you to look at something,” she says. “Don’t say a word until you’re finished.”
—
“Does your wife do this for you, Paul?”the woman on the video screen asks.
“My wife? Give me a break. She just lies there like a sack of potatoes. I have to check her for a pulse.”
“Okay, enough,” I say, hitting the “pause” button on the video, handing the laptop back to Vicky. “You promised me you wouldn’t do anything.”
“And I’vekeptmy promise,” she says. “I haven’t done anything with it. He has no idea he was recorded. I leave that up to you.”
I run my fingers through my hair. “This is Paul Southern? Reid’s father?”
“The very one,” she says. “The man who’s bankrolling his idiot son all the way into a full professorship.”
“I wish you’d told me,” I say.
“You would’ve told me not to do it.”
“Exactly.”
“Well, so far, I haven’t done anything. All I did was load the gun. It’s up to you whether you pull the trigger.”
I drop my head into my hands. I should’ve figured she’d do something like this. “I take it you couldn’t find anything on Dean Comstock?”
“Nothing all that good.” She closes the laptop. “But I was thinking. If you go straight at Dean Cumstain, you have an archenemy on your hands. That’s not in your best interest. Why not go to the source, the one the dean is trying to please?”
“So, what—we show this to Paul and tell him to back me instead of his own son?”
She shrugs. “That’s exactly what we do.”
“Won’t that seem odd to the dean? Suddenly, Reid’s father says, Give the promotion to the other guy?”
“Who cares what seems odd?” she says. “You know all this money Paul Southern has—it didn’t come from his own blood, sweat, and tears. Did you know that?”
“I did not.”
“He married into it. His wife inherited a fortune, and the company. Paul’s the CEO, but he’s beholden to her.” She pats the laptop. “How do you think wifey’s gonna feel about what her husband said about her, much less what he was doing?”
“She wouldn’t like it. If she ever saw this video, which she won’t.”
“Of course she won’t. Paul would never let that happen. He’d be out on his ass.”
“Paulis never going to see this video, either, Vicky. I’m not going to use this.”
I look up at her. She looks down on me like a disapproving parent. Which is kind of ironic, because I’m the one trying to take the high road here.
“This isn’t Paul Southern’s fault,” I say. “He’s just trying to help his son. I don’t like it, but he’s not malicious. He doesn’t deserve this.”
“Yeah, I feelrealsorry for Paul. He seems like a great guy!” That sarcastic look, that faux cheerfulness.
This is one of the ways where Vicky and I differ. I may push back when people do things to me, but I don’t generally distrust people. Vicky, she made her way through life being used by other people, mostly men, so she basically starts with the opposite presumption, that everyone deserves a good kick in the shin until proven otherwise. She would look at Paul as someone who had it coming, even if he never personally did anything to us.
“You’re letting them push you around,” she says.