Page 81 of The Deals We Make

Switch places a hand on my shoulder. “Tell me everything you overheard.”

I think back to my surprise, seeing her trying to pull shit together to make me breakfast while I slept. My first thought had been one of feeling cared for, and I hate to admit just how much it touched me.

“She said Orson had ruled out one of the candidates because they were happy and happy people don’t stalk.”

Switch nods. “That’s fair. Not sure Spark was truly happy until he met Iris.”

“She also said he’d sent someone to check out someone called Walt Timberlake.”

“Who’s that?”

I checked as soon as I got into my car. “Some private equity finance dude. His reputation is a little sleazy. Rumors of offering funds to women for sexual favors. Never been arrested or shit.”

Switch scowls at that. “Wealthy people can pay for really good fucking lawyers.”

“True. And I heard Calista say he was a possibility because he gave her mediocre advice and was pissed because she turned his offer of sex down.”

“Asshole,” Switch says. “I mean, Calista’s an attractive woman, can’t blame a guy for trying to get with her, but not if he has to rely on some weird access-to-power shit to do it. She was ballsy to walk away from him.”

Now that I’m in the calm of the garage, I put myself in her shoes. Young. Wanting a mentor or investment. Knowing that world is hugely stacked with men. I’m mad for her. I bet she wasexcited when he first singled her out, maybe hoping that he was about to invest in her or her company. Only to realize he was actually a charlatan investor and a shit stain of a human being.

“Yeah. I heard Calista acknowledge she wasn’t indefatigable, then some other stuff before the two of them hung up. And then…”

“Let me guess. You yelled at her for not trusting you and stormed out, which is why you ended up here in a shitty mood.”

I say nothing.

“You gave her a tracker like all the other women, right?” Switch asks.

I say nothing…again.

“Please say you at least made sure she got home okay.”

“I fucked up, okay?”

“Then go. Stop helping me with a repair I can do by myself and go make sure she’s safe before I rethink hitting you with that goddamn wrench. I married a woman to keep her safe—the least you can do is make sure yours gets to her front door okay.”

“Fine. I’m going to go find her.”

“You need my help?”

I think about the places she could have gone. “Nah. I’m sure I’ll find her. There’re only so many places she would go.”

The first place I go to is her house, and knock on the door. It opens the narrowest of cracks.

“Hey, Mrs. Moray. Is Calista home?”

The door opens a little wider. “She’s not.”

“I need Calista’s phone number,” I say. “I’m looking for her.”

She eyes me carefully. “You painted the house for me. With your friend with the scar.”

I look up at the paint job briefly. “I did.”

“Why?”

“Because it needed doing. Could I get Calista’s number?”