Page 57 of Bad Summer People
Marie finally took her hand off Robert’s shoulder, slipping her arm through Steve’s. “All right, folks, we’re going to sit and have a piece of the yacht club’s famous key lime pie, our last of the summer. I need to get Steve off his conspiracy theories. Enjoy the rest of your drink!”
“Lovely to see you,” said Jen.
“Yes, thanks for the chat,” said Robert. He looked a little pale.
Robert and Jen turned back toward their drinks, silent. Jen couldn’t blame him for stealing from these people. Didn’t they deserve it? Steve jangling his Rolex in Robert’s face. Brian Metzner going on about his investment portfolios. Jeanette Oberman bragging about how she was going to take Greg for millions. How much money could Robert haveeven taken? Ten thousand? Twenty? That was nothing to anyone here, including Jen.
“I need you to come with me,” Jen said to him quietly. He looked at her, alarmed. “I’m going to leave now and go to your house. You follow me five minutes later. You can trust me, Robert.”
He nodded. Jen looked around to see if anyone was watching (no one but Micah; she was safe). Then she went out the side door, past the tennis courts, and doubled back to Bay Prom. She walked past Broadway and turned on Neptune, up past the gazebo, empty and foreboding. She shivered and looked at her phone. Sam would still be at Robert’s house; she was ten minutes early.
She arrived at the little shack, which desperately needed a coat of paint. She saw that the side window was open, the one Sam had said he’d use to enter. She stepped through the overgrown tick grass and then lifted herself, with a soft grunt, up to the window, sliding her legs through first and hitting the floor with a bump.
“Jen?” It was Sam, standing in the kitchen area, holding a knife, not very convincingly.
“Sam, Robert’s coming here in a minute. Have you found anything?”
He held up a ledger, the one Robert used to record lessons. Jen nodded, unsurprised.
“I always knew I loved you,” said Sam. He leaned against the kitchen counter, cluttered with Robert’s stuff—a box of Cheerios, protein shake mix, a bag of Tostitos, half-eaten. The scene reminded Jen of when they were young, living in New York when Sam was still an associate, doing well but not making real money yet. The promise of their life still there. “From the first moment I saw you, I knew I’d marry you,” he said.
“I’ve heard this story before.”
“You were just so beautiful, and then you spoke, and your voice was so deep and soothing. And you were so smart and loving and kind.”
Jen knew what was coming.
“I just can’t believe you’d cheat on me with Jason. I’m not sure I’ll ever get over it. I don’t know how I can.”
Jen didn’t say anything. There was nothing to say. He didn’t know her, not really.
“I think you will get over it,” she finally whispered. Sam was simpler than she was. She went over to him and kissed him gently on the lips. It felt funny—they hadn’t kissed in so long, even during sex. She couldn’t tell if she liked it or not. Then she took the ledger. She ripped out page by page, crumpling each one, tearing them into jagged pieces, leaving them in a pile on the counter.
The door unlocked and opened, and in walked Robert, one hand shoved in his pocket, hunched from the chill. He turned on the light and took in Sam and Jen in the kitchen, and the ledger, his ledger, in an unrecognizable state. He collapsed on the couch.
“I didn’t do it, you know,” he said. Jen wasn’t sure if he was speaking to them or to himself. “I saw you all there. She was running from me, but you’re the ones who killed her.”
“No one killed her,” Jen said. “It was an accident. A terrible, unlucky accident.” She realized that she felt absolutely no guilt at all. How funny. “But if Steve Pond hires an investigator, I worry that signs will point to you, not us,” she said.
“Oh, don’t I know it,” said Robert. “It’s always the poor guy who gets blamed. You lot will be back here next year, partying it up at the yacht club, torturing the next pro. Iwasstealing, but I’m not a murderer.”
“I know,” said Jen. She went over and sat down next to him, the couch crunching uncomfortably under her, taking his hand in hers.
Sam watched his unpredictable wife.
“Don’t worry. I have a plan,” said Jen.
28Brian Metzner
If Brian Metzner wasn’t in such deep shit, he’d take them down himself. But he couldn’t risk sticking his neck out, not now. He’d been out that night, in the storm. He’d left his house so Lisa wouldn’t hear him on the phone with his lawyer, Simon Ketchum, discussing his admittedly limited options. He could barely make out Simon over the wind, but he needed privacy, and Lisa had been all over him lately, asking question after question, hovering until he’d shut down.
He couldn’t tell Lisa what was really happening—she wouldn’t understand. (And if she did, it would just be worse.) His top lieutenant, Michael Nerrot, had gotten ateenyamount of insider info about a drug company clinical trial that was about to fail. Nerrot then sold off a bunch of the company’s shares. Unethical? Sure. Illegal? Brian hadn’t known about the trade until after the fact, but the SEC didn’t really care about those specifics. Nerrot might end up in jail, and Brian’s firm would go bust from any settlement with the drug company’s investors. He’d also be banned from trading ever again. What would he do then? Become a chimney sweep?
That’s what he was discussing with Simon the night of August 22, the night that Susan died, the night he saw her die.
The kids were asleep, and Lisa was up in bed, watching her iPad with her headphones on, when Brian snuck out in his Salcombe volunteer fire department slicker. The jacket was tight; he’d gained weight over thesummer. He’d been stress eating constantly, never without a hot dog or a beer in his hand. His body felt heavy and hot. He hated himself.
“Brian, there’s nothing you can do for the moment. The SEC will come back with their findings shortly. But you should be prepared; Nerrot is going down. The question remains as to what they’ll do to you. Steve Cohen survived this, and now he’s living it up as owner of the Mets. Don’t get too upset. You’re not out yet,” said Simon.
