Page 57 of Smooth Talk

“Sanders sat through the entire conversation seemingly calm. So, he either already knows the scoop or he is a ‘source.’ How Rusty is tying the theft to you and a biker gang is beyond me. Let alone the mafia. My team is working all angles, but so far, we’ve come up empty. Granted, it’s only been a few hours. I was hopeful the bank would turn up something useful, seeing as they have a vested interest in finding the culprit, or at least the money, but we may be on our own. And before this all gets out of hand, I called in the big guns,” he finishes looking at my brother and Jake.

“Thanks, Cann. I’m glad you’re on our side.’ I reassure Cann that I still trust him, even if he did have lunch with the enemy. I know he wasn’t spilling any secrets or plotting against me. ‘Legally, there isn’t really a whole lot we can do to prevent Rusty from publishing a story. I can obviously get a retraction. Possibly a public apology, but everyone knows those are never as widely broadcasted as the initial scandal.”

I really hope this won’t impede my election chances. Let’s be real, I’m the best choice for this town. Sanders is a fool. His underhanded dealings and machinations will be brought to light soon, right around the time of the next city council meeting, when we go over the details of the conservancy proposal. He might plot and plan to get his family more money and notoriety on the daily, but this seems too grand a scheme for him. I’m not going to give him the credit, because there’s no way he could pull off something like this on his own. However, he did go to Yale, so it’s entirely possible he knows someone capable. His father’s powerful and just as selfish and phony, maybe he’s behind it? He stands to lose a lot of money should the motion pass.

The Montgomerys seem the obvious choice for now, but it could just as easily be someone I’ve never met. An unknown enemy who stands to gain from the destruction of my campaign. It could also not be about me at all, that I’m a merely a pawn. Regardless, we need to figure out who’s doing this, why, and how to stop it. We’re too close to the election for any more bad press. Crazy how quickly the time has flown by. It seems like only yesterday I’d thrown my hat into the ring when I found out that Sanders was running unopposed.

“Now what steps do we take, to take these guys down? If we can somehow trace the transaction, I want to press charges; I’m not the only victim here. I want justice for everyone. And I’d like Rusty questioned.” I aim that last comment at Jake, who nods, but I have no doubt O and my dad are on top of some things too. (They both have investigators they use for just such instances.)

“I’ve got a friend.” See, told ya.

“Nope. Nothing illegal.’ Jake gives O a stern glare, shaking his head. ‘I want to get to the bottom of this just as badly as all of you.”

“Relax. He works for the government and does some freelancing. He has all the proper clearances.” I’m reading between the lines here to what O’s not saying. Just because his friend works for the government, doesn’t mean everything he does is strictly legal. If it were, O would have specifically said. It’s a gray area. Oliver tips his head to dad, “we’ve used him before.”

Dad nods his approval, “the kid is good.”

O continues. “He owes me a favor; I’ll reach out. He travels a lot, and it’s tough to get ahold of him when he’s working a job.”

“If he’s unavailable, I’ll give Mike a call,” (my dad’s PI).

O looks down at his phone, a frown pulling across his features, “Yep; he’s out of the country ‘til next Wednesday; he’ll help then. I trust him. He has the required skill set needed to handle this, and he’s discreet, G. Until we know who is involved, we need to keep our circle tight.” I couldn’t agree more. He looks at me, waiting for my approval. Nodding, a surge of guilt hits me. I specifically didn’t mention anything to Poppy earlier because I wanted to talk this over with my people first, wrap my head around everything, formulate a plan, and I didn’t want to get her involved before I knew what was going on; it may well be nothing. I weigh the pros and cons of bringing her into my confidence. Keeping things from her doesn’t sit right with me but weighing her down with my problems also feels wrong. I know how much she despises the press; I don’t want her needlessly worrying if this turns out to be nothing more than a Rusty-led fishing expedition.

“Okay, now that we have that piece of the puzzle, can we try to figure out who Rusty’s sources are? Or if he even has any. For all we know, he’s the one behind this. He hates G,” O asks Jake. Personally, I think that gives Rusty too much credit. I believe him foolish enough to be taken in by a source, or to completely make up a story, but he’s no criminal mastermind capable of stealing millions without a trace.

“There are laws protecting journalists and their sources. And he’s never been a particularly willing collaborator in the past. I’ll bring him in for questioning in conjunction with the bank heist and let him know we’d appreciate his cooperation. If we’re lucky, he’ll feel obligated to share any evidence he may have uncovered in hopes of implicating you, or it’ll lead him to do something stupid, like planting evidence or seeking out his source in public. We’ll keep a tail on him, it may give us a lead. But I’m worried, if he is involved, we may be tipping our hand too soon.

“I’ll also ask him to hold off on printing anything until we have something concrete, so we don’t warn the perpetrators we’re onto them. If he doesn’t agree to that, and he absolutely will not if he thinks he has a scoop, there’s not a lot I can do. A gag order won’t work in this situation since there’s no tangible proof of anything. Rusty may not be involved with the theft, but he knows something. He’s vindictive and power hungry, but he’s not wholly without common sense. It’s not exactly his style to ruin good people simply because he can. Then again, you did steal his college girlfriend.” He barely hides the laughter in his voice.

“I did not steal his dang girlfriend!” O chuckles heartily, not cool bro. “They were broken up; I take no responsibility for what happened to their relationship.” I pause for a second. “She was way too hot for Rusty anyway. He obviously wasn’t treating her right.” I’m thankful the conversation’s taken a lighter turn, even if it’s at my expense.

“And what would you know about treating a girl right?” Jake asks me. Right, he doesn’t know about me and Poppy. I haven’t told him about her. He got called in to work and left before she got to the farm on the Fourth, and I haven’t really talked to him since. I’ve been busy. All my free time is spent with the Monroe girls.

“G didn’t tell you? He’s practically in love with Poppy. Got him wrapped around her little finger.” O says dreamily, twirling his pinky in the air.

“Poppy Monroe?” Jake asks, his brows hitting his hairline.

“Yeah, we’re official. As of two hours ago, anyway,” I say not even bothering to hide the stupid grin on my face. I also don’t deny the l-word accusation, huh. I mean, I haven’t voiced that thought (we’ve only been dating a couple weeks), but my feelings have grown beyond like at this point.

“Wow, congrats man. Poppy’s a really great girl.” How the hell does Jake know? Has he dated Poppy? He came back to Willow Creek after a short three-year stint in the army. And Poppy is a few years younger than us. He must’ve bagged some locals in that time. Was she one of them? Am I going to have to kill my best friend? Jake is smirking, like he can read my mind. I’m starting to wonder if O has a legitimate mind-meld or if he’s just really good at reading my facial expressions; I’m shit at hiding my feelings.

Jake shakes his head laughing, “She’s best friends with my cousin, Emma. I’ve known her for years.” Ahh, Emma Alexander. I thought she looked familiar when I met her at Harp’s party. I haven’t seen her since high school, and we never hung out; she was way too young, and if memory serves, she preferred books to our company. Before I can ask exactly how well my bestie knows my girlfriend, my father is on me.

He claps me on the back, “Good work son. All this talk about girlfriends and children’s children coming out of your mouth in less than an hour is going to make your mother a very happy woman. Especially considering she’ll give herself credit for your complete one-eighty.” He smiles, teasing me; waiting for me to ask (no, beg) him not to tell my mom. I don’t like getting her hopes up. But I don’t say anything. I can’t. My hopes are up. Poppy’s my girlfriend and I wouldn’t mind making it officially official one day. And, if that includes a white dress, picket fence and five babies, I’m happy to oblige. It’s a far cry from my mindset just three short months ago (before Poppy), but now I’m thinking that Grayson was missing out on some of the better parts in life. For once, I’m happy about my mother’s meddling. If not for her, I may have never met Poppy, and that would been a tragedy. I’ll have to remember to thank her.

---