When We Were Bright and Beautiful(69)

A long pause.

“For what?” Anderson asks again then answers himself. “For a secret.”

The jury is riveted; clearly, they want to hear Billy’s secret. Admittedly, a part of me does too. Instead, Anderson says, “Look at the accused. On the surface, he’s a handsome, ambitious young man. But inside, he’s deeply angry and deeply troubled. This man raped a young woman while she was unconscious, and, for all we know, has raped other girls and will continue to rape—”

“Objection!” Felicia Drake is furious. “Speculative and inflammatory!”

Anderson doesn’t miss a beat. “I’m discussing the evidence I’ll introduce during trial.”

Judge McKay brushes Felicia back. “This is an opening statement. I’ll allow it.” But he glares at Anderson. “Watch yourself. It’s only the first week.” Looking at his watch, he makes a decision. “We’ve been going for a couple of hours. Let’s break for lunch. We’ll resume at one.” He strikes his gavel.

Anderson relaxes. The timing pleases him. He knows that every single person in this courtroom is dying to learn Billy’s secret. But we all have to wait.





40


DEFIORE HAS RESERVED A MEETING ROOM FOR OUR FAMILY’S use during the trial. It’s in the building, on the same floor as the courtroom, and we congregate there during the break. The room is spare, with bare walls, a long conference table, and two credenzas. The table seats sixteen, so the five of us spread out on opposite sides. Menus are consulted, lunch is ordered. Soon, phones, laptops, iPads, charging cords, water bottles, tote bags, and notebooks are scattered everywhere.

I am so anxious I worry I’m having a stroke. Perspiration soaks through my blouse. What the hell is the secret? Booze? Billy’s never been a drinker. Weed? He doesn’t get high as often as I do; does that make me an addict too? Drugs? Money? Did Billy start gambling and not tell us?

I want to discuss Anderson’s statement, but don’t want to be the one to bring it up. I wonder if the DA knows about Marcus. Does it matter if he does? That’s my secret, not Billy’s.

Nate is sprawled across a chair, jacket off, tie unknotted, absorbed in his phone. His face has already started to shadow, and I bet DeFiore will tell him to shave again before the day is over. Next to him, Billy has donned his astronaut headphones and stares into space. His blue eyes are glassy and vacant, as if he’s been drugged.

I try to find a comfortable position. The leather chairs are plush, but nothing feels right. Why am I the only one freaking out?

“You kids okay?” Lawrence asks from across the room. He’s at the head of the table, the chairman of the board, with Eleanor, his trusted consigliere, by his side.

Do they know the secret? They’ve seen all the evidence. They must know what Anderson is referring to. I’m kicking myself for missing the last few months of war room sessions.

Lawrence’s shirtsleeves are rolled up. A sliver of light peeks through the blinds and highlights the dark hair on his forearms. I focus on them to help steady myself.

“We’re fine,” I choke out, just to fill the air with sound. “Curious about Anderson’s strategy. Some of his statements were very . . . I don’t know . . . provocative.”

“He’s making the whole thing up,” Eleanor says flatly. She’s gazing into a mirror, reapplying her sweet pink lipstick.

I can’t get used to her bangs; I startle every time I glance her way. A younger, gentler woman has replaced the Eleanor who raised me.

“Can he do that?” she asks. “Just pull facts out of the air?”

I assume she’s referring to the story about her depraved son raping his unconscious girlfriend until she adds, “Seven hundred million? Where did he come up with that? We’re nowhere near the vicinity.”

“We knew this would happen,” Lawrence announces. “They’ll say anything to malign us.” He makes it seem like he’s responding to Eleanor, but in fact, he’s sending me a message. We’ll be fine, kid. Trust me.

“So he’s allowed to lie?” Nate asks. “Are there, like, no rules at all? Why can’t Peter stop him? Or get the judge to stop him?”

“That’s not how trials work, son. But Peter will present our case, and when he does, he’ll make it right.” Again, he’s saying this to comfort me. But he still doesn’t mention the secret.

The food arrives, but no one moves. A platter of sandwiches sits on a rolling cart, along with a bowl of fruit, bags of chips, and a plate of brownies. Wrapped in plastic, everything looks revolting.

“Billy,” I say casually. Then I lean over, nudge him with my finger.

He takes off his headphones.

“What do you think Anderson is talking about? What secret?”

Across the room, Lawrence is studying his phone, but I can tell he’s frozen in place, awaiting the answer.

“No idea. Could be anything.” Billy puts his headphones back on and stares at his phone. “Weed, probably.” He shrugs.

“I’m not worried about Anderson,” Lawrence says. “But we should get ahead of this. Where’s Peter?” He looks around for DeFiore, who’s out in the hall, shouting into his phone.

“I bet it’s weed,” Nate says, shifting his eyes toward Billy.