Page 77 of Whatever Will Be

She recoils from him. Then changes her mind and rakes his left cheek with her nails.

Whitney stumbles over to me, seizes the folds of my shirt in her fists. “Who is she? WHO?”

Gretchen gently unhooks Whitney’s fingers from my shirt and says, not unkindly, “She was my sister. Julianne Aaronson. She died in a car accident in February, leaving behind twin four-year-old girls.”

Whitney shakes. “And it’s true? He’s their father?”

“Yes, it’s true.”

Liam’s wife does not accuse us or shriek that we are liars. Part of her must be aware of what kind of man she’s married to.

He tries to stagger over to her again, repeating her name and holding his pleading arms out. She pushes him away.

“No,” she sobs, and flees the room. Her voice echoes from the stairwell. “Everyone needs to leave! I’m sorry but everyone needs to leave right now!”

Instant confusion reigns downstairs. Sounds and voices blend together.

Meanwhile, up here, there’s eerie calm in the aftermath.

Judgment has been passed in a matter of moments. Liam has lost a lot and he will lose a lot more.

Still, I don’t take my eyes off him. Dangerous men are at their worst in desperate moments. I keep Gretchen behind my back as we move with caution toward the exit, sweeping aside bits of broken glass.

Liam himself has taken a seat on the floor, his back propped against his broad desk, his legs splayed out in a daze.

Just when I think he’s forgotten we are in the room, he raises his head, finds me, and smiles.

“Remember what I told you, Trent,” he says and breaks into hideous laughter that might be on the other side of sanity.

“Go,” I whisper to Gretchen, ushering her into the hall while keeping an eye on Liam in case he makes a grab for a weapon.

He stays where he is, laughing like a fool at the mess he’s made.

Within seconds, we’re down the stairs and joining the crush of guests spilling into the parking lot. There’s a lot of gesturing and petulance and some looks of pity thrown at Whitney Cassini, who wails beside a topiary while being comforted by two of her friends. They escort her to a black Escalade and shoo her inside.

There’s a bad feeling crawling up my spine and I’d rather not stop to examine where it comes from.

I need to get Gretch away from here right fucking now.

She’s startled when I lift her up and deposit her in the passenger seat of the minivan but conversation can wait. We need to go. I’m not shy about cutting people off and leaning on the horn as I navigate the way out of here.

Gretchen lays a hand on my arm. “It’s over.” She sounds unsure.

I’m also unsure.

The rearview mirror is filled with the gaudy Cassini Brewery sign. I’d prefer to never see it again. All I want to do is put more distance between us and Liam.

We’ve traveled roughly a mile when the sky behind us ignites.

Gretchen screams.

The impact of a follow up explosion rattles the steering wheel in my hands. The car in front of me breaks hard and I veer off to the shoulder of the road to avoid a collision.

“I would take it apart and burn the pieces before you get your trashy hands on it.”

Gretch clutches my arm and tries twisting around to see out the back window. “What the hell happened?”

But I’m not confused. I think on some level I saw it coming. The emergency sirens will begin howling any second.

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