Overkill(12)
“I’m very good at that.”
Sid laughed as he added the requested splash of water, then carried the drinks over and they clinked glasses. “Here’s to.”
“Here’s to.”
They drank. Sid sank into the matching leather chair beside the one occupied by Upton Franklin, who, in addition to being Sid’s highly paid legal counselor, was also his sounding board, tennis partner, golfing buddy, poker rival, and best friend since they’d met during their first semester at Georgia’s most elite prep school.
Their friendship had been forged by bullying classmates they disfavored for one reason or another and playing pranks on humorless faculty members who insisted on gentlemanly conduct and strict adherence to school rules. By their senior year, Sid and Up practically ran the academy, having cowed even the austere headmaster with their genial terrorism.
Once out in the business world, their bullying had continued, but they’d refined their methods. Sid was the brain behind their schemes to steal companies out from under unsuspecting CEOs. Upton was the legal mind that maneuvered them around the laws and regulations of commerce. Today, the international conglomerate they’d assembled was worth billions and included numerous industries.
They were two of a kind, each possessing ruthless ambition and a blatant sense of entitlement. Which was why Sid was surprised by Upton’s chastening remark about Eban’s new car.
“Why the frown, Up?”
Upton swirled his watered-down whiskey. “If you’d asked for my advice before buying the car, I would have suggested that you give him something less costly and conspicuous. A wristwatch. Carved marble chess set. Rare breed of dog.”
Sid chuckled. “So I splurged. What of it? He’s been in prison.”
Forehead furrowed, the attorney said, “Exactly my point, Sid.”
“Which is escaping me.”
“Some might think giving Eban a flashy car to mark the occasion of his early release to be in bad taste.”
“I don’t give a damn what some might think.”
“Obviously not,” Up said, “but perhaps you should. I advise a little discretion. Restraint. Eban should avoid drawing attention to himself. The early out notwithstanding—”
“Whenever you say ‘notwithstanding,’ I know you’ve lapsed into lawyer mode.”
“I’m speaking as your lawyer and friend. The early out notwithstanding, Eban was still convicted. The girl—”
“Was not a victim. It was a tragic accident, and as much her fault as Eban’s.”
“The jury didn’t think so.”
Sid sneered. “Everybody but that twelve knew better. That was not Rebecca Pratt’s first rodeo.”
Upton looked at Sid from beneath his shelf of eyebrows. “But it was her last.”
Sid didn’t concede the point except to curse before taking a drink of his bourbon. When he lowered his glass, he said, “She was drunk, and high, and she went into a bedroom with three men who admitted to being equally drunk and high.”
“Because admitting to being stoned mitigated their responsibility for the catastrophic outcome,” Up said.
“Remember the DNA evidence? She’d had sex with all three of them.”
“Yes, Eban’s defense lawyer was emphatic about that in his closing arguments. He described in some detail the sex acts they had engaged in.”
“He described a nymphomaniacal contortionist,” Sid said and chuckled.
“Sid. Please.”
“All right, that was uncalled for. But suffice to say that prior to that night, she was a well-documented party animal, and those are the least offensive words I could use to characterize her. At Eban’s trial, Theo and Cal testified under oath that all the fun and games were her idea.”
“But it was in their best interest to testify to that, wasn’t it?” Up argued. “Their lawyer was negotiating a deal for probation with no jail time.”
“Which Eban served.”
“Because he’s the one who took the experimentation too far.”
“Don’t sound so goddamn self-righteous, Up. You and I had ménages on occasion.”
“We did, yes. But none of the women wound up in a vegetative state. Rebecca Pratt did, and even though Eban is now a free man, people aren’t going to forget that. He needs to be aware that he’ll be closely scrutinized. To be seen blazing around in a new sports car—”
“Blazing around is precisely what I had in mind.”
The subject of their discussion strode into the study, wearing a broad smile and the best casual chic Sid’s black Amex card could buy. Eban was only a few months away from turning thirty, and it made Sid proud when people said that the older he got, the more they favored each other. They had the same slender build, wide forehead, and cleft chin. Their eye colors differed. Eban’s were a cool gray-green, and all his own.
Halfway across the room, he stopped and looked from one to the other.
“Obviously I’ve walked into the wrong party. I was invited to join you for happy hour. This is your idea of happy? You look positively glum.”
Sid motioned him toward the bar. “Pour yourself a drink.”
“Oh, I intend to.” Eban vigorously rubbed his hands together as he went over to the built-in wet bar, a component of the elegant floor-to-ceiling cabinetry that enwrapped the room except for the wall of windows.