Page 80 of Try Me
I pressed my lips together to keep from interrupting him and telling him exactly why his son didn’t want to work for him and why he felt he had to lie all the time, if that was even what he was doing.
“And you, meanwhile, seem to be doing pretty well for yourself, all things considered. Got yourself a good internship at Preston, Beasley, and Waring—that was a surprise to learn the other day. You’re on the dean’s list at the U. Holding down a job over the summer while working an internship and taking classes. Doing work-study in the fall.” His gaze flicked over me. “Impressive stamina for a kid who used to get high in the woods by our house.”
I grimaced. Mark had never mentioned it, so I’d assumed that no one had seen me the couple of times I’d returned after that night in Mark’s bedroom—every time saying I’d go to the front door and knock, or climb up to his window again. I’d never mustered the courage, though. It seemed pathetic now.
Mr. Farrow continued. “Oh, I know, it wasn’t often, and that was a rough summer for you, what with your dad going to prison and all your prep school friends abandoning you. I imagine it must have been lonely. Markus must have seemed like your last safe haven.” Mr. Farrow rubbed his jaw. “Back then he listened to me when I said to stay away from you. But the last few months have been unsettling in particular. Mark’s not acting like himself. Making poor choices.” He stared directly at me as he said it, and I resisted flinching away from his cool gaze.
“Did you ever consider maybe he’s figured out what he wants and is going after it, regardless of what your wishes for him are?”
Mr. Farrow set his jaw. “I didn’t sacrifice for years just so he could be fucked outside a public library by some loser with a vendetta,” he hissed. I flinched back, the fire in my chest exploding outward and squeezing the breath from my lungs. “If the wrong person caught wind of that, it’d be plastered all over the news. His mother would—” He put up a hand and shook his head, face sour like he couldn’t even bear mentioning it. “What’s your long-term plan here? Think he’ll use his trust fund to help you out with law school? Maybe give you a place to live rent-free? Or maybe it’s simpler than that? Some misguided attempt to get back a tiny sliver of what your father took away from you?”
“Why do you hate my dad so much?” I asked quietly. “You helped take him down, and yes, he deserved everything he got.” I cleared my throat to keep my voice from shaking. “Why wasn’t that enough?”
Mr. Farrow cocked his head. “Did you know your dad helped me get started? Sure did. I paid him back ten times over, I was so grateful. We were close. As much friends as rivals, I liked to think. All through college and after. I trusted him completely. He repaid that trust by stealing half my clients at the time, who then invested in his bullshit company.”
“I’m not my dad. You know, this is sounding less and less like a Mark issue and more like your own hang-ups.”
“You’ll hinder his future in the long run,” Mr. Farrow barked, and my gaze jerked up to meet the menacing look in his eyes. I’d never seen him snap before.
“Maybe you’re the one doing that.”
The silence that fell was heavy and ominous as the clouds clustered on the horizon. The air felt greasy and thick, and I couldn’t seem to get a good breath in.
“Where are you applying to law school?”
“It’s none of your business, and if you’re about to imply that you can interfere with some grainy footage of me and your son, good luck with that. It was consensual by the way. Very much so.”
He grimaced as I spoke, and maybe I did the same, because the way I’d said it was cold and impersonal even for me.
“I’m not referring to that particular lapse in judgment.” He arched his back in a stretch, then dropped his hands in his lap, glancing up at the sky as another flash of plum lit it up. “Mark had a fraternity brother, Cam. I believe you knew him, in fact. Details were a little dicey, but your name came up on the original police report when he overdosed. Mark said you’d been with him earlier that night. You like the frat boys, huh?” He waved a hand when I didn’t respond. “That’s neither here nor there, though. After that, an internal investigation was opened. There’s a drug problem on campus, I’m sure you’re aware.”
“There are drug problems on campuses everywhere, I’m sure you’re aware,” I replied dully.
“Yes, well, there’s a Thomas Meecham in particular who’s responsible for a good 30 percent of the supply.” I’d thought it was impossible for my stomach to sink any lower, but it bottomed out like I’d been tossed off the side of a cliff. “He’s inconsequential. He’ll likely get a plea deal for giving up his supplier. That’s who they’re after. But in the process, Mr. Meecham shared a bunch of other names. Other people who’d dealt for him. It’s a very useful list, full of people who could be called into court to testify. Not exactly the ideal time or way to be in the public eye when you’re trying to apply for law school, hmm?”
“Jesus,” I croaked, and closed my eyes against his smug smile.
There was a shit ton I wanted to ask. How the fuck he knew all this, for one—but I could probably guess. He had hands in his pockets and his hands in other pockets all over town. I wanted to tell him that I only ever dealt a little weed—I hadn’t been lying to Mark. But I held back from saying a goddamn word because it didn’t really fucking matter whether it was weed or heroin. It was one more strike against me. One more potential smear on a law school application.
Another rumble of thunder passed through the clouds as I stood. He and Mark shared so many features and yet somehow looked nothing alike. It was an aura thing, I guessed. Mark didn’t feel poisonous the way Mr. Farrow did. “When someone’s deeply invested in something, I start to wonder what they have to lose.”
“Ahhh, maybe you will make a good lawyer. You’re perceptive.” Mr. Farrow stood, too, smacking his palms lightly against the top of his thighs. “The answer is rather simple, though: my son.”
“Then maybe you should start treating him like a son instead of trying to manage him like one of your stock portfolios.”
He tilted his head at me, but his expression remained smooth and unperturbed as he reached into his pocket and withdrew a set of keys, tossing them to me. “The keys to his car,” he explained. “He left it behind last night in a fit of drama. Tell him he can pick it up tomorrow.”
I managed to tamp down the wave of rage building inside me and blink back the sting in my eyes until the taillights of his Porsche vanished from the parking lot. Then I unleashed, punching my fists into the dashboard until they were raw.
I drove home in a daze and found Mark sitting on my front stoop. The crooked grin slid from his mouth as I approached. He took in my defeated posture, then stared down at the car keys I handed him. “What the fuck happened?”
“Your dad stopped by.”
* * *
Mark paced in my bedroom,whipping back and forth so fast and furious I was certain the shitty carpet underneath his feet was scalding to the touch. His hands flew through the air as he recounted the party, the conversation with his dad, and what Mark had thought was his moment of victory in tossing his car keys at his dad.
“God, that was so fucking stupid. I should’ve just saidokay, Dad,you’re totally right, and then we could’ve just kept doing what we were doing until…until…I don’t know—” He huffed out a lungful of air.