“Fuck you, Matt.” I say it under my breath. It’s not as satisfying as saying it to his face. I might as well be ten years old in the back seat of Blazer’s car again, when that dirtbag called Riley and Ms. Sandra the N-word and I stayed silent.
Annie does speak up. “You can be a real asshole, Matt, you know that?” And I secretly cheer.
“Please stop. We have company.” Cookie shoots daggers at both of them.
Julia waves a hand in the air to dismiss the concerns, and my eyes catch on her giant diamond ring, a sparkling boulder on a ridiculously skinny finger. I hide my own hands beneath the table, finger my sliver-size diamond.
Cookie leans over to Julia as if taking the woman into her confidence. “Listen, we know someone who’s a reporter. Don’t you think it would be smart if she interviewed Kevin so that people could see he’s a good guy? She’s a personal family friend—Riley Wilson.”
This was inevitable; still, it blindsides me, especially Cookie’s ownership of Riley when they’ve barely met. In fact, it was right here at this kitchen table that Cookie tried to talk me out of having Riley as my maid of honor. She leaned into me as we were flipping through inch-thick copies of wedding magazines, her breath sweet with chardonnay. “Are you sure you want Riley to be your maid of honor? You and Annie have gotten so close. It would mean so much to her, and wouldn’t she look beautiful up there at the altar with you? She’s going to be family, after all.”
Clever the way she’d couched it, but I knew what it was really about. Riley had once tried to explain this particular mindfuck to me: you could never be sure what was about race and what wasn’t, so you always had to second-guess yourself （Was that because I’m Black?）。 In that moment, I got it—in Cookie’s mind, Annie made for better wedding pictures.
“You’re friends with Riley Wilson? She’s the Black friend?” Julia turns to me, putting the pieces together.
“Best friends,” Cookie stresses.
The mere mention of Riley’s name makes my insides burn. There’s no way Riley is going to do the interview, but I haven’t told anyone about what happened at Monty’s or that we haven’t spoken since, least of all Cookie. They all stare at me, waiting for a response.
I can’t lie or dodge, as much as I may want to. “I really… I don’t think Riley will do the interview with Kevin.”
“Well, I don’t see why on earth not. Would she do an interview with you at least, Jen?” Cookie claps once, as if she’s found the magic solution. “You can tell our side of the story.”
Before I can respond, Julia jumps in. “I really don’t think that’s a good idea, Mrs. Murphy. Jen isn’t the center of the story. It’s bad optics.”
“Bad optics. Pffff.”
“Yeah, I can only imagine all the white-tears memes that would come as a result of that,” Annie says, earning a disapproving stare from Cookie.
“What on earth is a meme?” she asks.
“Never mind, Mom, the point is, Jen is not the focus here. Even with her connection to Riley.”
I shoot Annie a grateful half smile.
Matt abruptly gets up and walks out of the kitchen and into the sunken living room and turns on the Sixers game, as if announcing that the meeting is finished. He calls out over the play-by-play. “None of this matters. It’s gonna be fine. We don’t need an interview with Riley or any of those vampires in the press. It’s not like Kevin’s going to get indicted, man. These investigations are all for show. No cop ever serves time.”
Julia interrupts him. “That was true. But things are changing. Public sentiment is against you. We are here to protect you, but you have to work with us.”
She makes a point of looking at her watch. “I think we’ve covered what we need to for now. I’ll be in touch as things progress. You can call or text me anytime, day or night, in the meantime. Remember, the most important thing is to stay quiet. If anyone from the media reaches out to you, send them to me.” She drops a business card on the table, ring glinting in the fluorescent light, and then turns to me.
“Will you walk me out, Jen?”
At least it’s an excuse to leave the kitchen. I follow Julia down the hall like a dog. I wish I could follow her right out the front door. We could go see a movie or wander around the mall, and I could pretend I have a different life for a few hours.
Julia stops at the door, places a hand on my arm. “Please don’t talk to your friend Riley about this case. I’m sure you think you can trust her, but you never know about people.”
She’s wrong. I do know Riley, and I would trust her with my life.
I only nod, and Julia pauses, hesitant to say whatever comes next. “I have to ask. Does Riley have any personal information about Kevin that she could use against you?”
“What do you mean?”
“Oh, things you’ve confessed to her in the past as a friend, about Kevin or his job? Any trouble he’s gotten in…？”
Even as I say, “No, of course not,” my mind races. Is there something? The truth is I hardly know anything about the inner workings of Kevin’s job. He’s almost always stopped himself when he starts telling me: “Never mind…” “I shouldn’t…” “It wasn’t that bad.” There was one night when we both got shitfaced and he started in on a story about a couple of cops who would threaten people for arrests for stuff like jaywalking or loitering or traffic stops just so they could shake them down for cash.
“Made him give him everything in his wallet and a bag of weed that was in the glove compartment and let the guy go. Hazard pay, he called it.” The next morning Kevin was mortified he’d told me. “Never tell anyone I told you that, okay? I need to keep my mouth shut.”
“I’m your wife, Kev. You can tell me anything.”
“That’s not how it works, Jenny. What happens at work needs to stay there. My dad always said that, and I never got it until I became a cop, but it makes sense to me now. Not with that dude stealing the weed. That guy was an asshole. But sometimes we need to break a few rules, especially this new DA’s rules, to get the job done. No one but a cop understands the kinds of things we see, the messed-up people we’re trying to help every day. They punch us, shoot at us, tell us they’ll kill our families, and we’re supposed to just read them their rights and give them a hug. It doesn’t work like that. It never actually works like that. Shit happens and sometimes we have to do things. If another cop has your back, then you need to convince yourself that you would have theirs, because the alternative is that you stop trusting anybody.”
I told myself over and over that Kevin didn’t—wouldn’t—behave like some of those asshole cops. And besides, even if I ever told Riley anything, she would never… but then the tiniest sliver of doubt creeps in. It’s Julia’s fault. I need the woman to leave, need to close the door against her and this crazy line of thinking. Riley may sometimes be distracted and distant, but she would never, ever betray me. There aren’t many fundamental truths you can count on in life, but this is one of them. If I don’t believe that, then I don’t know what I can believe in.