Page 29 of Dirty Liars

“But I bought a plane ticket to the Bahamas,” he said. “I’m supposed to leave tomorrow night.”

“Don’t,” Jack said, and the tone of his voice didn’t leave room for argument.

CHAPTERNINE

“I’m fine,”I said the following morning.

I wasn’t. Not really. I felt like I’d been run over by a truck. But at least I didn’t have anything left in my stomach to throw up.

“You don’t look fine,” Jack said, squatting down next to me.

“No, it’s passed. I promise. Just help me up.”

I was laid out on the bathroom floor, so I reached out both hands so Jack could pull me to my feet.

“This might seem weird, but I really hate the smell of all of our hand soap,” I said. “So it’d be great if we could throw it all away. It makes me sick.”

“The smell of soap makes you sick?” he asked.

“Just the smell of that soap,” I said. “Other soap is fine. I think because it has a floral scent. Floral scents make me nauseated.”

His lips twitched. “So we shouldn’t take any trips to the botanical gardens? Or the garden section of Home Depot?”

“That would be a bad idea,” I said. “I think I’m good for coffee now.”

“Why don’t you start with water and work your way up to coffee?”

“Because we’re already behind schedule. I thought you wanted to talk to Theo’s parents this morning.”

“It’s barely nine o’clock on a Sunday,” he said. “We’ve got time.” He handed me a bottle of water that I hadn’t noticed him bring into the bathroom with him. “Why don’t you take a shower, and by the time you finish I’ll have coffee made for you. And you should probably put something in your stomach. I’ll make you some toast.”

“What about Dickie?” I asked.

“He can make his own breakfast,” Jack said. “He’s a grown man.”

“Are we just going to leave him in the house?”

The corner of Jack’s mouth quirked in a smile. “Want me to toss him out in the yard?”

“You’re a real riot this morning,” I said.

“Thank you,” he said. “Just for that I’ll bring your coffee up to you while you shower.”

“Wow,” I said. “That kind of service will get you lucky.”

“I’ll take payment later,” he said, grinning. “After you brush your teeth.”

I choked on a laugh as he disappeared to go make my coffee.

* * *

Theo Vasilios’s parents were staying at the Briarly Country Club in Arlington, Virginia. The Briarly was one of the oldest country clubs in the nation. It had started as a men’s athletics club in the mid-1800s, and had morphed into one of the most elite, and expensive, clubs in the country. The original stone lodge still stood, and had been added to over the last couple of centuries to provide three floors of rustic opulence to its patrons. Even from the outside, the place reeked of old money and power—the kind of establishment that required not just wealth to join, but connections that went back generations.

“How come you’re not a member here?” I asked Jack as he showed his badge to the gate guard, who scrutinized it with the suspicion of a man accustomed to keeping undesirables at bay.

“Because I hate golf,” he said. “And if you have to pay the average American salary every year to be a member of something it should have activities I can enjoy.”

“I hear they have pickleball now,” I said.

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