“Oh my god…” My voice is quiet as I read the first few sentences. “Ray, I’m going to have to head on back now, I’m sorry.”
I’m already moving, collecting my clothes and the acceptable toiletries into my small suitcase.
She’s watching me, concern lining her brow. “Is everything okay?”
“I don’t know. What I read is bad.” I give her a tight hug. “It’s possible, depending on how this is handled… Patton could lose his company.”
“So you’re running to help him?”
I hesitate, and it hits me what I’m doing. I lower my arms and look at her. “I guess I am.” My insides are tight. I’m so mixed up right now.
Renée puts her hand on my arm and smiles. “It’s your life. It’s where you belong. Go.”
Stepping forward, I give her another hug. “I love you.”
“Protect your chin this time.”
“I’ll try.”
30
Patton
“You need to consider turning yourself in.” I’ve been on the phone with my attorney, David Worth for almost an hour. “If he goes to the police ahead of you and files a complaint, you’ll be cuffed and stuffed and trust me, the press will be all over that shit.”
“Jerry’s not going to go to the police.” My swollen hand is under an ice pack Sandra prepared this morning. “He’s done all the damage he needs with that fucking story.”
“The video is on YouTube. It’s clear you hit him without provocation.”
“Without provocation?”
“We don’t hit. We use our words.” He’s speaking like I’m in preschool.
“I’ve got a few words for that bastard.” Words they won’t print in Nashville Notes. “I need to see that video.”
Tapping on my keyboard, I wake my laptop. It might make me feel better about not getting in that second punch. I can watch it on repeat.
“I talked to Hank as soon as I got your email. I apologized for your call, but I said it was understandable in light of the situation.”
“Thanks.” It’s a sarcastic response.
“I told him if they didn’t correct the parts of the story that are untrue, they would face litigation for slander and defamation. Apparently some of it is true? I’m your lawyer. You need to tell me these things.”
Groaning, I push back on my chair. “There was some inappropriate conduct between Marley and the CPA, but it was not assault.”
“You need to let him go. A public parting of ways would go a long way—”
“That’s not happening. Marley means more to me than this fucking bullshit.”
David exhales long. “Well, if you continue to employ someone who is clearly a liability, you’ll keep me in paychecks.”
“Congrats on the job security.”
David chuckles. “I’m here if you need me.”
“Thanks.” He’s here at $450 an hour.
It’s a Saturday, and I’ve been in the office since the sun came up—busted hand, hangover, and all. Sandra has been screening my calls from realtors concerned about our clients, clients concerned about our realtors, media wanting more information.