The Revenge (The Insiders Trilogy #3)(37)

Yes. Matt.

He wanted to wallow, so we would wallow.

But, holy crap.

Kash had a brother.

I picked up my drink. “You’re right. Here’s to wallowing.”

“Drink up, Bailey.” He raised his arm for a fourth whiskey, which the bartender saw, and nodded. And the same server sashayed up moments later for Matt, and turned, swinging her hips slow and seductively on the way back down. Matt was watching, but I didn’t think he was really seeing her. He held his glass out for me, and knowing what he wanted, I clinked it with my own.

He said, almost sullenly, “I figure you and me, we’re due a night. You’re going to pretend you’re upset about Kash, even though we both know he’ll be back and you’ll both be fine. And me…” He burped again. “I’m going to indulge and let my wild paranoia run free, because come dawn, I’ll rein it in. You and me. Team Batt needs to step up to home base. Kash has a lot on his plate. We’ll help out. It’s up to us to take Quinn down.”

He looked up.

So did I. And as if taunting us, the news was reporting on Quinn’s trial. Footage of her walking into the court was showing on a loop.

Matt extended a fist to me. “Team Batt.”

I met it with my own fist, and we pretended to blow it up.

“Mantle.”

“Mantle.”





TWENTY-ONE

Bailey


Six A.M. and Matt and I were struggling to even walk.

There were shots, more drinking. Dancing. Yelling. Chanting. We might’ve coordinated a cheer even, complete with starting a flash mob with strangers. Matt has a favorite hot dog place he likes to stop at after drinking.

All in all, the night was epic.

Walking through the Chesapeake hallways as Matt veered off into the kitchen and I headed for my room with Kash, I already knew this was a hangover day. I wanted to collapse in bed and never move. There might be Disney movies to watch later on, but still from bed. Or in the house theater, but in my pajamas. I wanted to embrace the theme for the day.

“Bailey.”

Aw, crap.

I faltered, first hearing Peter and then hearing what could only be described as … a father’s dismay? My heart soared for a split second because (a) Peter was acting like a dad to me and (b) I had forgotten how much I missed that “parenting” effect until Chrissy was gone. But that was quickly pushed out to make room for embarrassment, a good amount of shame, and nausea .

The nausea was winning out.

He was coming down a hallway, fully dressed to start his day. A newspaper in one hand, a steaming mug in his other. And he was looking me up and down. There was no real expression on his face, but his eyes and mouth were both flat.

He stopped in front of me and wrinkled his nose before raising his mug and taking a sip. “You reek of Matt.”

I paused. “That’s an odd cologne.”

“And you speak Matt, too. What an unpleasant surprise.”

I felt that one like a punch to my sternum.

“You’re fluent in parental disappointment. Why am I missing Chrissy so much? I’ve got you as a replacement.”

I winced even before I had two words out of my mouth.

Who was this person in my body? I didn’t like her.

Peter looked like he agreed with me, and his mouth pinched in at the corners.

He looked me up and down before shifting his newspaper under his arm and raising his hand to pinch at the top of his nose. “I think it’s time we had a talk.” He nodded in the direction I was going. “Go. Shower. Change. Come back to my office in an hour.”

My tongue weighed down on the bottom of my mouth. My throat swelled and I couldn’t speak for a moment.

A flare of regret pierced me, jarring me, but he moved on.

Climbing the stairs, I pushed open our bedroom door and stopped just inside.

The encounter with Peter hadn’t been good, but this, coming into this room, this was worse. So much worse.

The night out with Matt had helped distract me, probably part of his reason, and I knew there was so much going on, but I felt the room’s emptiness inside of me. It was pushing out everything in there, and I was a void hole in its place.

I missed Kash.

I was an idiot. And a fool. I was a total and complete fool, and I needed to call Kash now. Like, now now. Not later now, but the immediate now.

But I couldn’t.

Damn.

Shower. Change. My first lecture ever from my father. After that, if I was still standing and in one piece, I’d call Kash and grovel.

Sighing, I went to get this going.



* * *



Peter was on the phone when I stopped outside. The door was slightly ajar, so I knocked softly and stuck my head in.

He motioned for me to come in. “I have to go. My daughter just came in.”

My daughter.

That was nice to hear, and the acid built. It made the whole “dad being disappointed in you” even worse.

Putting the phone back, he looked me over again. This time his eyes were a little kinder, and I hated seeing it. There was so much pity in there.

I sat in one of his chairs, sipping my coffee like it was my shield to the world. “You’re going to lecture me.” Taking a cue from Matt, I slunk down in my chair. If I’d still been speaking Matt’s language, I would’ve thrown a leg over one of the armrests.