Page 22 of Nobody's Fool

When they get their passes and head down the corridor, I make my move. I show my real ID to the woman at the same security desk on the Forty-Eighth Street side of the building and get a pass to the tenth floor.

Arthur is waiting for me when the elevator opens.

“What the hell, Kierce? Our client is already in the conference room.”

Arthur is not what you expect. He’s a tall, lanky glass of water, only twenty-four, and already a partner here. How did he make partner so young? He’s a genius. He graduated law school at sixteen. He wears his hair long. He favors suits with vests, a pocket watch, and dangling feather earrings.

Behind him I see Peyton Booth’s two attorneys. No Peyton.

That’s good.

“The mediation,” Arthur continues, “starts in five minutes. I need—”

“Here.”

I hand him the other envelope I had in my backpack. The one I gave Peyton Booth was unsealed so he could open it fast. This envelope is the opposite—sealed with envelope moistener and one of those long strings you have to keep unwrapping.

Arthur frowns and starts on the string. “Are you serious?”

“Gotta hit the head,” I say and rush down the corridor toward the bathroom. I have been in this bathroom maybe five other times in my life. I have never seen anyone else use it. I’m hoping my luck will hold, but if not, I can wait.

Peyton Booth is there. And only Peyton Booth. My luck, if you call this that, holds.

“Who are you?” he asks.

I lock the door behind me. If someone needs a toilet, they can always find another one.

“That doesn’t matter,” I say.

His face goes as white as that crisply ironed shirt. “So this is, what, a shakedown?”

The only shaking I see is his hands. He has the envelope. The photos of him with that other man, the ones I took near Rose to the Occasion, are back in the envelope as though he doesn’t want to see them again.

“I was hired by your wife’s attorney to see whether you were abiding by the infidelity clause of the prenup you and your wife signed.” I point at the envelope in his hand. “This is the evidence that you were not.”

“So how much?”

“Pardon?”

“To keep this quiet. How much?”

I’m genuinely curious now. “How much are you offering?”

He raises his chin, the businessman again, back in control. It’s a business deal now, a corrupt one, and that puts him back on terra firma. “Give me a number.”

Yep, master negotiator. Or so he thinks. Negotiation 101: Never be the first to give a number. Let your opposition make the first move. You can learn this from reading pretty much any book on negotiating or watching repeats ofPawn Stars. Rick and Corey always ask, “How much do you want for it?” as they launch into making any deal.

“How much do you want for it?” I try.

“You go first.”

“Ah never mind,” I say. “I can’t think of a price, so let’s just move on.”

I start for the door.

“One hundred grand,” he says.

Whoa. That’s the opening bid. I could probably get a lot more. That would change everything, wouldn’t it? Get me out of debt. A better apartment for Molly and Henry. Maybe some babysitting help so Molly can go back to work. I’m tempted to counter at a million, but I’ve let myself get distracted with this long enough.

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