Page 85 of False Confidence

Liam tuned his dad out as he relayed why they were there to the woman. He was too on edge, peering around the bright, sterile lobby. He tuned back in as the woman told his dad that the arresting officers would be with them to explain everything in a moment.

He couldn’t sit, pacing back and forth in front of the metal chairs, while his dad sat still as a statue. To someone who didn’t know him, he would appear completely calm and collected, but Liam knew he was just as stressed as he was. He just had more experience hiding it.

“Mr. Michaelson?”

They both looked up to see two officers striding across the lobby toward them. His dad stood to greet the officers, one of whom had a tablet in her hands, presumably with Jasmine and Maggie’s arrest file, if that was a thing. Liam had no idea how any of this worked.

“Hi. Yes. Are Maggie and Jazz okay?”

“They’re fine, sir. Thank you for coming out for them. We weren’t comfortable letting them go, given how inebriated they are,” the taller of the two officers explained, and Liam frowned in confusion.

“They were arrested for being drunk? Just how drunk were they?”

“Very drunk,” the officer with the tablet confirmed. “But that’s not actually why they were arrested. There was an incident at the bar. I guess one of them was dancing on a table and they fell and knocked over a very expensive statue, breaking a window, the statue, and a table.”

Shit. Liam didn’t need to ask who was dancing on the table. “Is Jazz okay? Was it a bad fall?”

“We offered to get her checked out by a paramedic, but she declined and said she felt fine,” the officer assured him. “We were outside when the window broke and we became quite concerned about them when they got into an argument—well, it was mostly one sided, actually. Maggie has quite a temper, if you don’t mind me saying.”

“That sounds like Maggie,” his dad replied.

“Your daughter?” The officer gave him a look that Liam thought was supposed to be in commiseration, but it quickly morphed into shock and embarrassment when his dad pinched his brow and replied:

“My wife.”

“Oh God, I shouldn’t have assumed. I’m so sor?—”

“Don’t worry. We’re used to it.” His dad’s shoulders were less tense now that he knew Maggie and Jasmine were okay. “Do you know if the owner of the bar is pressing charges?”

“They don’t want to press charges. As long as the damage is paid for, they’re happy to draw a line under it. We can pass your details along to sort that out between yourselves, if that works.”

“That’s perfect, thank you.”

“Great. They’ll be out with you shortly,” the woman said. “They’ve sobered up, probably because of the shock of everything, but they’ve still had a lot to drink tonight. Although neither of them hit their heads, they still fell, so I would recommend you keep a close eye on them for the next twenty-four hours—especially Jazz.”

He had no intention of taking his eye off Jasmine for the next twenty-four hours—longer if he could manage.

Liam started as his dad clapped him on the shoulder. “At least they’re okay.”

“Yeah. At least they’re okay.”

Except it became abundantly clear that okay was relative when Jasmine and Maggie stepped into the lobby. Maggie’s jaw was set, her blue eyes like thunder. Jasmine eyed her best friend warily, smudges of black eyeliner and glittery gold eyeshadow all over her face.

“Hey, love.” His dad wrapped Maggie up in his arms, but she barely hugged him back. Liam could see the explosion building in her.

“Thank you for coming to get us.” Maggie swallowed. “I need to be outside.”

She pulled out of his dad’s hold and walked toward the door, her shoulders set.

Jasmine brushed a hand over her face, grimacing as she watched Maggie walking away. “Shit,” she said under her breath, running after Maggie. “Maggie, wait up. Can we talk about this, please?”

Liam and his dad exchanged a worried expression before following them.

Thin rain misted the air, unseasonably cool for Seattle in August. Jasmine had her arms tucked around herself, rubbing her skin as if trying to stay warm.

Maggie was heading straight for his dad’s Tesla, her fists clenched into balls.

“Please talk to me,” Jasmine begged her as they all caught up and Maggie spun, her dark hair flying behind her.

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