Page 75 of College Town

“No, it’s…it’s good.”

Lawson bites back a grin. “You already said that. Do you need a thesaurus?”

“Fuck you,” Tommy says, heatless, airless. He clears his throat and stalks over to his desk. With his back turned, his voice regains a little of its bite. “Are you ready? We need to leave in five minutes.”

Lawson sighs. “Am I allowed to know where we’re going?”

“No.”

“Didn’t think so.”

~*~

Unfortunately, Frank joins them in the garage and expresses a strong belief that Lawson doesn’t know how to “carry himself” convincingly.

Lawson sighs, and then does his best Tom Hiddleston on a red carpet impression, and Frank blinks in clear surprise. Tommy blushes again, looks away, and coughs. “It’s fine,” he says, and Frank goes along without further protest.

They climb into the Navigator, a driver and a guard in front, Frank in the third row, which leaves Lawson in one of the second-row bucket seats beside Tommy. It’s a big SUV, but Lawson’s a big guy, and so it feels…not tight, but cozy.

“Okay, listen up,” Frank says behind them, and though Tommy sighs, he doesn’t protest, so Lawson takes that to mean he should obey whatever order Frank’s about to relay. “You’ve been a real mouthy shithead so far, but the people you’re about to meet aren’t as understanding as me.”

Lawson twists around in his seat and shoots him a wide-eyed, awed look. “Please, Mr. Mafia Man, you’re sounderstanding, tell me your secret.”

“Bite my ass,” Frank says.

“No, thanks, you’re too old for me.”

“Law,” Tommy chides, but there’s a smile in his voice.

“Fine.” Lawson smooths his expression. “I’m all ears.”

Frank gives him the stink eye, but when Lawson only stares attentively, he makes an annoyed gesture and continues. “That little…thing…you did in the garage? Keep doing that. Look bored, like you don’t give two shits, like you’re better than them. Only speak when spoken to, and don’t say anything stupid. Don’t be a smartass, in other words,” he adds, when Lawson opens his mouth to ask.

Lawson rolls his eyes. “And what about the fact that I don’t have a clue what you guysdofor a living?”

“The less you know the better.”

“We’ll help you out,” Tommy says. “Steer the conversation to safter ground.”

“Okay.” Lawson nods, and looks between them. “You know this is a horrible plan, right?”

“Yes,” Frank says, “absolutely.”

Tommy’s been scrolling all this time, but slips his phone away and looks up with a frown. “No, it’s not. It’s the best idea we have. And I know Lawson can pull this off.” The last he says staring fixedly at Lawson, head tipped to a meaningful angle.

Lawson stares back until he realizes he’s dead serious. “I think your faith’s wildly misplaced, but I’ll take it.”

A thin smile flirts with Tommy’s mouth, and he turns to glance out the window.

Lawson twists back to regard Frank. “I think your nephew might be insane.”

“Oh, I know he is,” Frank says, but his tone is fond, and his expression, when he glances at the back of Tommy’s headrest, flickers toward pride.

25

Their destination is in the small but expensive downtown business sector of Eastman. The city’s grown a lot since Lawson was born: what was once not much more than a university and its surrounding suburbs has since sprouted a thriving hospitality industry that went from supporting the college to existing as its own draw to new residents. There’s not one but two malls, a bevy of restaurants, the aforementioned collection of bars, and all the supportive businesses one could ask for in a medium-sized city. Throw in a Hyundai plant and a commercial food supplier warehouse, and it’s practically booming.

Traffic thickens after they pass the school and hit the financial district. The Navigator turns into the parking lot of the very upscale Estelle’s, which Lawson sampled last night out of takeout containers. He whistles as the car snugs up to the curb.

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