Page 176 of The Wrong Play

“Yeah,” Matty added, nodding. “Pretty sure last time I asked, you said something about ‘friendship being a sacred, ranking-less bond’ and ‘don’t ask stupid questions,Matthew.’”

I waved them off. “That was last week. Things change.”

Parker crossed his arms. “Corn dogs were an unfair move. I’d like to file a complaint.”

I nodded sagely. “You could probably get me some milk to go with them—iceless, of course.”

Matty snorted and took an obnoxious bite of one of my corn dogs before pointing it at Parker. “Step it up, QB.”

Parker rolled his eyes but didn’t argue…and he didn’t leave the room for my milk.

Disappointing.

Instead, his gaze flicked toward my laptop screen. “So, what’s the plan?”

I leaned back in my chair, licking mustard off my thumb. “I’m currently trying to strategize,” I told them, nodding at all the files up on my screen. “There’s got to be something here. If he was doing all that shit to Riley…he’s got to have been doing that shit to someone else too.”

Parker dropped onto the armchair in the corner and stretched out like he was settling in for a show. I shot him a finger gun and picked up my phone. “Let’s see what Jagger has to say about this.”

Matty looked confused. “I don’t think a parking meter guy is going to be able to help you with this.”

Parker snorted, like he thought that Matty was being funny. He wasn’t. That’s just what I’d told Matty one day when I was annoyed with him.

I ignored both of them, scrolling to Jagger’s number. This was all based on speculation, of course. But if there was anyone who thrived on making people’s lives miserable in creative and legally questionable ways…if there was anyone that I knew most likely to be involved in shady shit…it was him.

I fired off a text:

Me: I need ideas for ruining a man’s life. Open to suggestions.

Jagger’s response was almost instant.

Jagger: …

Jagger: Nice to hear from you too, little brother. Can you narrow it down? Psychological or Physical?

I tapped my chin, considering.

Me: Ideally, both.

Jagger: Ok…who’s the target?

I scoffed. That was such a mafia thing to say.

Me: Professor. Mid-forties. Wears suits he thinks make him look important. Generally looks like the type of guy who collects leather-bound books and has never made a woman come in his life.

Jagger: What’d he do?

Me: Hurt Riley.

Jagger: Say no more. Do you want humiliation or complete annihilation?

Me: Obviously, why choose.

Jagger: That’s what I like about you. Ok, let’s start with what we can dig up. Most guys like this have skeletons in their closet, and if they don’t, we make some.

Me: Excellent thinking, brother from the same mother.

Me: P.S. You’re definitely in the mafia.

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