Page 36 of Married With Lies

“Hold on a minute,” calls the girl.

I ignore her and keep walking until I reach a door featuring a gold-plated sign bearing the name of a likely future Congressman. The door is locked. I knock my knuckles on the wood to the tune of what Bay and I used to jokingly refer to as our ‘secret knock’, seen in an old black and white noir film.

Rustling sounds come from the other side. The murmur of a female voice. Then the door is opened a crack and Baylor’s flushed face gets inserted into the opening. He does a double take when he sees I’m the one standing on the other side.

“Hey, buddy.” I grin at him. “Or can I call you brother now?”

Baylor recovers from his shock and fury clouds his eyes. “What the fuck are you doing here?”

“Visiting my oldest friend.” I give the door a hard shove, which he isn’t expecting in his flustered state. He stumbles back a step.

It seems he’s not hanging out in his office alone. There’s a woman sitting on the leather sofa and she’s furiously buttoning her red silk blouse. Then she rises and smooths some stray hairs into place.

“We can finish running the numbers tomorrow,” she says to Baylor before she exits the room in a hurry with her head down. I sure hope some nice colleague informs her that her blouse is buttoned crookedly.

Meanwhile, Baylor is busy tucking his own shirt back into his pants. I take the liberty of inviting myself in and closing the door behind me.

“Could have sworn your wife was a brunette,” I say while helping myself to a seat on the sofa of sin. “That didn’t look like her.”

“Shut up.” Baylor drops into his cushy ergonomic office chair.

He shoots me a scowl that’s probably supposed to look threatening but only succeeds in being pouty. He’s thinking I have some kind of nerve calling him out for being a cheating scumbag. After all, I whisked his little sister off to Vegas and stuck a ring on her finger. I guess that could earn me a spot in the scumbag club too.

However, I would never cheat on my pretend wife so I do feel a little superior at the moment.

“Congrats on the team win last night,” I say. “Even if you were just watching in the box and had nothing to do with it. The Dukes are having a hell of a season.”

“Fuck you,” he says, still sulking behind his desk.

“Does this mean Sadie and I shouldn’t expect a wedding gift?”

“Fuck you,” he repeats. He never was a master of insults.

“No thanks. I’m still a little worn out from the honeymoon, if you get my meaning.”

Baylor takes a deep breath. In and out. In and out again. Like he’s following therapy instructions. Then he lifts his head. “You did this to screw with my life. Didn’t you, Cale?”

“Nah, that was just an added bonus.”

“Scraps is just a kid.”

“My wife prefers to be called Sadie. And she’s twenty four. Nowhere on the planet does that qualify as a kid.”

His scowl deepens. “You know damn well that my sister is innocent. She’s not your speed.”

“Funny, you weren’t so concerned with her innocence when you and your father schemed to sell her off to Grant the steakhouse prick. When she asked for your help you told her to get lost. You don’t get to act like you were ever there for her when she needed you.”

I’m not faking my anger right now. Sadie’s family used her as a pawn until she refused to bend to their wishes. Then they turned their backs on her. Baylor could have stepped in and helped his sister anytime he wanted. He chose his ambition instead.

And he knows it. His shoulders sag and he glances with unease at the closed door. “Keep your voice down.”

“I’m not yelling.” Not yet.

Baylor glares with new suspicion. “You hardly know her.”

I shrug. “I don’t like to procrastinate when I find what I want.”

“And what you want is my sister.”

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