Page 11 of Final Verdict
Out of the corner of my eye, I can see Jameson turning his head toward me.
“Anything about this ‘research’ you care to share with me?” my dad asks.
“Uh, not at the moment,” I say. “But I’ve been hustling like you wouldn’t believe.”
He says nothing for several seconds, and I can practically picture him tapping his fingers against his oak desk and staring me down like I’m sitting right in front of him.
He’s seconds away from tossing back a shot of whiskey and putting me in my place.
“No one in this family goes more than a day without returning my calls, young lady,” he finally says. “You know what that does to me, so don’t ever let it happen again.”
“Yes, sir.”
“I’ll call you Saturday morning,” he says. “Be ready to tell me more about where all this money I’m spending on your Ivy League education is going…”
“Can’t wait,” I say. “Goodnight. Love you.”
He ends the call without saying it back, and the hairs on the back of my neck start standing up one by one.
My father can strike fear into the hearts of the toughest men, and he’s always been able to do it to me without even trying.
I am so screwed.
Shaking away the thought of what my dad is thinking about me, I glance ahead and realize we’re only two blocks away from the address I gave to Jameson.
“Massachusetts?” There’s a smile in Jameson’s voice. “What a blatant and obvious lie.”
“It’s none of your business.”
“Next time, you should say the exact city or location,” he says. “Lies are more believable when you give specific details.”
“They’re harder to keep up with, too.”
“Only if you tell too many.” He pulls over as his screen flashes a ‘You’ve arrived’ notification. “Five lies or fewer at a time is best.”
I’m already past fifty.“Good to know.”
He looks at the building, then at me.
“A lot of executive bankers stay in this building,” he says. “What do you do for a living?”
“Oh?” I tilt my head to the side. “Now you want to be cordial?”
“It’s just one question.”
“I work in senior sales and marketing.” I give him the same lie I give everyone else. “I create campaigns to make people believe in whatever products companies are selling.”
“Hmmm.” He looks as if he doesn’t believe a word I’ve said, and I don’t blame him.
“I’ll let you out now,” he says.
He doesn’t move an inch, though.
He’s staring at me, his expression unreadable, and as the seconds pass between us, I can’t help but slowly inhale the scent of his cologne.
It’s amber and woodsy with a faint hint of vanilla, and I can’t help but slowly inhale a bit more of it.
Without saying a word, Jameson finally steps out of the car and strolls to my side.
