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Friends Like These(93)

Author:Kimberly McCreight

“Goodbye?” That did not sound good.

“Stephanie, did you happen to see Luke anywhere when you were up at the bar?” Peter asked. “The person we are actually here to find.”

“Who is Luke?” she asked.

“The contractor,” I said.

“Oh, yeah,” she said, waving toward the back. “He’s at a table in the corner over there.”

Peter immediately moved in that direction, weaving his way so forcefully through the crowd that it was hard for me to keep up. It was sweet, him leading the charge. Though I did worry he was overestimating his ability to match Luke. Peter was young and in amazing shape— but the kind sculpted by a personal trainer at Equinox.

When I glanced behind us, Stephanie was following, but some distance behind, pushing against bodies disagreeably. She paused, looking down at her phone as she typed out a message. Peter gestured subtly for me to hurry— I was the one carrying the money.

“Why don’t you give him the, you know . . .” Peter nodded in Luke’s direction when I joined him at their table. “So we can get out of here.”

“Okay, fine,” I said, reaching into my jacket like all of this was an annoyance I was barely tolerating. Careless aggression was a reckless idea, but so was completely rolling over and playing dead.

But already Luke was shaking his head as he looked away. “No, no, you fucking idiot. Have a seat first.”

Luke and his friend— a big guy with white-blond hair and oversize pink cheeks— slid over so that there was an open chair next to each of them. The big guy motioned to the one near him.

“Here you go,” he said. “Plenty of room.”

“That’s okay,” Peter said. “We can stand.”

Luke swiveled his gaze to Peter.

“Sit the fuck down,” he said through gritted teeth. “I’m not having the handoff in plain view. In case you boys were hoping to get it on the bar’s security film.”

“We’re not trying to do that,” I said, my voice embarrassingly shaky.

Luke kicked the chair nearest him out in my direction. “Then have a seat.”

I quickly handed Luke the envelopes under the table. He snatched them away and thumbed through the bills.

“This is twenty thousand. Where’s the other eleven?”

“You do know the way banks work, right?” Peter’s tone was condescending. “There are withdrawal limits. We’ll be wiring you the rest on Monday.”

“Thanks for the tutorial.” Luke narrowed his eyes at Peter, then turned back to me. “So let me get this clear: you think I’m dumb enough to have you pay me off with a paper trail?”

“Definitely not,” I hurried to add before Peter did more damage. “I can get you another eleven thousand cash on Monday if you’d rather that.”

Luke was still staring at me. My palms had started to sweat. “Cash,” he said finally. “Monday. As soon as the banks open.”

“Absolutely,” I said. “No problem.”

“Also, you should know,” Luke went on, eyes still locked on mine, “local police and my family go way back. Way, way back. I’d think twice before I report anything about this. It’ll end up turning back hard on you and that drug addict friend of yours.”

Stephanie was at the table now, eyes still on her phone. When she looked up, she saw Luke’s friend with the big cheeks.

“Hey, look who it is,” he said with a lascivious smile.

“Oh, fabulous,” she said, turning to me. “And Jonathan, you’re sitting. Why are you sitting? Let’s do what we came to do and get out of here.”

“What’s your hurry?” the friend said, pointing to his lap. “I saved a spot for you.”

“Ugh.” Stephanie groaned and rolled her eyes. “Jonathan, please, can we go?”

Peter looked from Stephanie back to me. “I’m so sorry,” he mouthed, pained.

Without thinking, I reached over the table and gave Peter’s hand a quick squeeze. He looked up at me then and smiled in the exact way he had the first night we met— shy and sweet. One smile like that, and I’d been done for.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Luke barked at Peter.

I snatched my hand back like I’d been burned, then felt ashamed for reacting. But Peter was defiant, lips pressed together, a challenge in his gaze as he stared back at Luke. “Maybe if you weren’t jammed so far in that closet of yours, you wouldn’t care that we’re fucking.”

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