Page 161 of Enemies

They’re the usual “not in my backyard” allegations, plus some disturbingly short-sighted arguments aimed at dismantling our claims that the club will enhance the surrounding area.

“The committee will take this under consideration,” Zachary concludes from the front. “We’ll take a short recess before our next agenda item.”

He gets up to use the washroom. I follow him in.

The man goes into a stall, and I wait at the sink, meeting his gaze in the mirror when he comes out to wash his hands.

“That was… disappointing,” I say.

Another man starts to enter, but I cut him a look and he quickly reverses out the door.

“I told you. Interest groups are very active here.”

A few days ago, I was convinced we could work together. He’d be one more bureaucrat I’d manage.

By Saturday afternoon, I realized that would never happen.

“You’re from a good family,” I start. “Political. Affluent. Elite golf course memberships. Old money. It must be nice to be so connected. To have kids. A wife.”

“Ex-wife,” he bites out.

“The divorce is before the courts. Do she and her lawyers know you raped a teenage girl?”

“You can’t threaten me.” He sneers, his confidence bolstered by the lawyer he dialed the second he left the wedding—the one who no doubt reminded him he was in the clear for whatever heinous acts he committed more than ten years ago.

“That’s not why I’m here.” I jerk on a paper towel, and two sheets tumble out.

“Then why?”

I toss him one sheet. “Because I needed to look in your eyes, but more than that, I needed you to look in mine.” The second paper towel crumples into a ball under the pressure of my fist, and I toss it into the trash without taking of my gaze from the man before me. “You hurt someone I love. In the most repugnant, despicable way a man can hurt a woman.”

The protectiveness I feel for her is different from anything I’ve ever experienced.

“God might absolve you of that sin.” I lean in, savoring the fear edging into his eyes. “I will not.”

20

RAE

Rae: How was it?

I text Harrison when the plane pulls up to the gate at La Guardia. I’ll be in New York for a few days to see Annie and perform my final gig, but the timing meant I had to leave the same day as Harrison’s meeting with the zoning commission.

Harrison: No bloodshed.

My chest unknots a degree, but I don’t totally buy it.

Rae: I want a picture.

Moments later, the joke’s on me because he sends through an image of of his chest, abs, and the trail of hair leading to the band on his boxer briefs.

I nearly drop the phone.

The woman next to me must be pushing seventy, and she makes a sound of appreciation. “Well done.”

“Thanks.” I swallow a laugh and type back.

Rae: Just getting off the plane. I’ll call you later. My neighbor thinks you’re hot.

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