Until the Day I Die(60)

All the flirting with Mom, all that touchy-feely, nicey-nicey stuff—it was a big nothing. He wasn’t after Mom—because he’s having an affair with Ms. X.

Ben and Ms. X!

“Who is it?” Rhys hisses.

Calm down. Think.

I mean, it definitely fits. On move-in day, Ben all but confessed to me that he was having problems in his marriage. And now, as promised in the texts, he’s in this out-of-the-way barbecue place to rendezvous with the other woman. To cheat on Sabine. And not only is this asshole a cheater, he’s a thief. He’s trying to wreck my parents’ company.

I scrunch and twist around as far as I can without looking like a complete nutball. “It’s Ben Fleming,” I say to Rhys. “My mom and dad’s partner at Jax. Their best friend. Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God.”

“He’s alone?” Rhys glances over his shoulder.

I motion for him to lie low. “Sh. Yes.”

Ben’s parked himself at a booth in the corner on the opposite side of the restaurant, and now he’s studying the menu. The server is bent over him, pointing at a few items and grinning down at him. How nice of her, how helpful.

“What’s he doing?” Rhys asks.

“Flirting with the waitstaff.”

“Dirtbag.”

But maybe it’s more like she’s flirting with him. I don’t know. I can’t tell. Let’s face it, I’m not the best judge of those kinds of things. I didn’t really think it was going to be Ben who walked through that door. I may have been suspicious of his intentions toward my mom and Layton, but I never actually believed he could do something criminal.

And what about Rhys? I don’t even know the guy, and I’ve pulled him into this mess. What if he’s just pretending he doesn’t know what’s going on? What if he’s in on this with Ben, and I’ve fallen for it?

I drop my head in my hands. There’s also the possibility that I’m being ridiculous, and Rhys really is just a nice, caring guy. And maybe it’s me who’s losing it.

We finish our meal in silence—well, Rhys finishes, and I pick at mine and obsessively check the screenshots of Ms. X’s account even though the extra money is still there and nothing has changed. Eventually our server reappears. “Y’all want anything else?”

“Peach cobbler,” I mumble.

The flaky, syrupy, bubbly peach cobbler and mountain of vanilla ice cream melting on top does nothing for my appetite. I push it around my plate and watch Ben from under the bill of my cap. For another forty minutes, nobody familiar comes into Dally’s. No one joins Ben in his booth. And then, just as he’s pulling cash out of his wallet, my cell rings.

Layton.

It rings again, a loud, clear jangle, and my heart stops.

“Answer it,” Rhys whispers fiercely.

I put the phone to my ear. “Hello?”

“Hi, Shorie. What’s up?” She sounds like she’s driving with the window open. Or standing in a tornado.

“Uh. Just having lunch . . . dinner. With a friend.” Rhys gives me a thumbs-up.

“That’s fun. Where?”

“Where?” I make a face at Rhys. “Some barbecue place. I don’t really know the name.”

“Jax approved, I hope.”

“Oh, yeah. I mean how expensive can barbecue be?”

“Right.”

Maybe she was coming to meet Ben and spotted me and Rhys through a window or something. And now she’s trying to figure out what’s going on.

“I don’t really know why I called, Shor,” Layton says. “I guess I just wanted to check in after the dust settled and make sure you were okay.”

“Oh. Okay. Well, thank you. I’m good. Doing pretty good.”

“Foxy Cat misses you. But she’s happy. Torn my sofa to shreds.”

“Oh gosh, I’m sorry.”

“No, it’s okay. I was going to buy a new one anyway. Never spent my Christmas bonus.”

On the other side of the restaurant, Ben plunks some cash on his table and slides out of his booth. He heads toward the door.

“Hey, Layton, can I call you back?” I say.

“No need. You go do your college thing. It’s good to hear your voice.”

“You too.” I hang up. “Come on,” I say to Rhys, but he puts out a hand. Closes it over mine.

“I want to look him in the eyes,” I protest.

“I know, but maybe you should wait. I have the feeling this might be bigger than you realize.”



An hour later we’re all settled in Rhys’s living room again—Rhys and Lowell and me and also some girl I recognize from the work party the other night. She’s blonde and willowy and wearing a crocheted halter top that shows a double-pierced navel. I hope she’s Lowell’s girlfriend and not Rhys’s.

“So who was it that didn’t show?” I say for the millionth time.

“Well, it’s obviously not Sabine,” Lowell suggests. “So the lawyer? Layton? Maybe that’s why she called you. She saw you and was trying to find out how much you know.”

“It has to be somebody within the company,” Rhys says. “There was that message about how she works at an app company. And Ben definitely could’ve written that program.”