I join them, arms crossed, waiting for Martin’s walk of shame to his car. If he looks over here he’ll see us watching, but I couldn’t care less.
The cranes. The oysters. The bull in the pool. The thousand other shitty things he’s done, making things go missing, fucking with orders.
“There he is,” Lydia hisses, and the three of us crowd closer around the window.
It’s classic. He’s walking out with a single file box. There’s a lamp sticking out of it. He’s being followed by a security guard, all the way to his car.
None of us say anything. He opens the trunk and puts the box in. The guard watches. Martin opens the car door, and then, as he gets in, he looks straight at us.
He looks straight at me.
I flip him off. It feels great.
Then he gets in his car, closes his door, and the security guard watches him drive away.
“Good riddance,” Lydia mutters.
“I hated him,” Kevin admits.
“I hope he has to work a road crew now,” I add.
“Ooh, in the summer,” Lydia says.
“Pouring asphalt,” says Kevin.
There’s a knock on my door, and the three of us jump, like we’re doing something we shouldn’t be.
“Come in,” I call.
Eli steps in. My heart slams against my ribcage, then falls through the floor. Lydia and Kevin are suddenly stock-still, rigid, like they’re afraid to breathe.
“Can I talk to you?” he asks, his voice polite, quiet.
Part of me wants to say no and never talk to him again. Part of me wants to be angry forever and hurt forever and nurse my wound until I’m a crazy old woman living in a cave on a mountain, incessantly telling the birds about the man who broke my heart one time.
But I’ve been at Adeline’s for three nights, and in between telling me all the places that we could hide a body — and I appreciate the support, I really do — she’s also made the case that having a reasonable conversation one last time with Eli might not kill me.
“Sure,” I finally say, feeling like all the blood has drained from my body.
“I’ve gotta go take care of that thing,” Lydia says. “I’ll be — you know, if you need me —”
“Same. Got a thing,” Kevin agrees.
They practically trip over each other to get out of my office. Eli closes the door behind them.
I lean against my desk, arms folded in front of me like that’ll deflect whatever’s about to happen.
“You heard Martin got fired,” he says.
“We just watched him leave,” I say.
I pause. Eli watches me, rubbing his hands together in front of himself, like he’s not sure what to say.
It’s unlike him. Eli always has something to say.
“Do you know what happened?” I ask. I keep my voice low, for fear that if I don’t, I’ll start shouting.
“Apparently someone found security footage of him unlocking the pool and putting the mechanical bull in it,” he says.
I hear what he’s saying, loud and clear.
“So you did something else sneaky and underhanded?” I ask before I can stop myself.
His jaw flexes. I close my eyes, bite my lip.
“He did this,” Eli says, this voice low, controlled. “Someone else just found the evidence.”
“And did someone else make sure that this evidence came to Montgomery’s attention anonymously?” I say.
“Yes,” he says simply. “I wanted his head on a platter for sending that picture, and I got it.”
My head snaps up, and I look at him.
He looks shitty. There are hollows under his eyes, and he looks like he hasn’t shaved in a couple of days. His hair’s messier than usual, but he’s looking at me with the same intensity as usual.
Not that I look great. I’ve been crying and sleeping on a couch. I’ve been holding onto anger like it’s my last remaining possession.
Eli rubs his hands together. He takes a deep breath. He looks to one side, like he’s trying to formulate what he’s about to say.
“I couldn’t prove he sent the picture,” he says at last, his voice soft, constrained, like he’s fighting something. “I couldn’t prove it to Montgomery and I can’t prove it to you, but I could get his ass fired anyway, so I did.”
I want to stay angry. I want to stay hurt, because somehow that feels easier than believing him and being sorry.
He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a thumb drive, hands it to me. His fingertips barely brush my palm, but that whisper touch sends a bolt of longing through me anyway.
“There’s a rumor that Kevin’s mom is suing Bramblebush over his injury,” Eli says. “I bet she’d be interested in seeing this.”
I close my hand around it.
“You know this is proof that you’re a devious, ruthless asshole sometimes, right?” I ask.
“Only for the right reasons,” he says. “I’d go to the ends of the earth to be a devious, ruthless asshole to anyone who hurt you. Even if you won’t believe me.”