Page 39 of Infinite

“You heard me,” I tell him.

“This isn’t a joke or a publicity stunt,” Hale says, his temper firing. “It’s my life, Becca.”

“And the side everyone who’s already judged you needs to see,” I press. “As much as you’re known for your business savvy, you don’t come across as warm, and no one out there has ever seen your heart.”

“Why would they?” He jerks his chin. “Why would I show anyone what I’ve been through, especially when I’ve been part of the rat race, interacting with people who’d stab me in the back and rob me of everything I’ve worked for without thinking twice? One of them did this to me. Framed me or whatever the hell. Do you think that would have changed if they knew my heart? No, Becks. It would have been one more target they could aim for.”

I can’t say he doesn’t have a point. But I won’t shy away from what needs to be done. “You were the perfect man on Wall Street. Too perfect. So much so, your competitors and everyone else you managed to piss off couldn’t wait for your downfall. Like you said, someone among them caused it, leaving everyone else to celebrate and wish you the worst. One less competitor, right?”

“Right,” he agrees. “And one hell of a show. It’s the reason the feds jumped on this case. The head of the agency is up for reappointment, and wanted something big to make him look good. Instead, he got a pitiful case, lacking any substantial evidence or good investigative work. The more my team finds, the more they’re sure I’ll get off with an apology.”

He’s smiling. I’m not. “A public apology won’t be enough. Best case, it will be ignored by the press when the next big story hits, or shoved into the back pages of most papers beside the want-ads. Neither will win you back the public’s trust, which is why we need to put your story out there. We need to humanize you for everyone who isn’t so cutthroat. Those who trusted you with their earnings, and those who helped your firm become what it was.”

“At the expense of my privacy?” he asks, growing testy. “Hell, no.”

“It’ll be tasteful.”

For a second, I almost expect him to take that beer and smash it into the fire. But he doesn’t. Hale wouldn’t ever intimidate me that way.

“Is that all you have to say?” he asks. “That it’ll be in good taste? What was I worried about? Hell, maybe all your hard work will even land you an Emmy.”

“Maybe,” I add thoughtfully.

“You’re something else, you know that?”

He doesn’t mean it as a compliment. Not with that tone.

I wipe my chin when I spill some of my beer, my thoughts racing ahead of my mouth. “I’m here to save your reputation. Right now, even your kindest and most genuine clientele think you’re a crook, and they’re convinced you screwed them. You’ve never shown them the side your friends have seen. You’ve never extended your hand in friendship.”

“I didn’t work as hard as I did to make friends. I was running a business, creating an empire.”

“And you were damn good at it,” I agree. “But you don’t want to be perceived as an elitist, heartless, rich boy. We have enough of those. So, let me portray you as you are; a man who did his best to earn the love of his family. Who struggled to find his place in the world and succeeded against all odds.”

“Damn it, Becca. Do you have any idea what it took for me to tell you what I did? Especially after all our time apart?”

“I think I do,” I answer quietly. For all the horrible things we’ve endured, all the words meant to hurt and the actions that left impenetrable scars, here I am, still willing to bleed for him and make sure he recovers. We’re friends at heart, Hale and me. Regardless of everything, that’s who we are.

“I don’t know what you hope to accomplish, aside from making me look like a pathetic whiner with Daddy issues and a drunk for a mother.”

“Some people will call you a whiner,” I reply, refusing to paint too rosy a picture. “They’ll see you as everything you described and worse.”

He nods. “Great. You are damn good at your job, Becks. Don’t know what I’d do without you, girl.”

“But the majority won’t,” I add. “They’ll see you as a hero. As a man who could have easily succumbed to his pain, instead of embracing the American dream and kicking all the excuses to fail in the balls.”

Hale just stares, pegging me with a sick amount of resentment I should be used to by now. But the emotions he feels aren’t the result of anything I’ve done or said, but from what life has done to him. It makes it easier to take, but not much. For all I think this is the right direction, I’m asking a great deal and walking a fine line between exploitation and friendship.

“You’ve returned to the only place you’ve ever called home,” I remind him. “Where you grew up and did your best to fit in. There’s beauty in that and it’s something many people will relate to.”

“But how’s it going to look when the world finds out that my brothers can’t stand the sight of me? I can’t come out of this looking good. Not with both of them against me.”

“I don’t know about that.”

“How can you say that, Becca? My brothers won’t even speak to me.” He runs his finger along the stamp of the bottle. “The last I spoke with was Carson. He called me, drunker than hell, the night Forbes released their magazine with me on the cover, just to tell me how much he hated me. How much they both did.” Hale works his jaw. “I’d taken my staff out to dinner at Tavern on the Green to celebrate, and every last one of them heard him screaming into the phone. Good times, let me tell you. Good times.”

For a moment, I just gape. But this incident is another reminder of what needs to be done. “We can address that, too,” I say, adjusting the blanket against my shoulders.

He cocks his brow. “On film?”

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