Grand Slam (The Boys of Summer 3) - Page 8

“Because you had been drinking.”

He shakes his head. “Not enough to impair my driving abilities.”

I used to think the same thing until I wrapped my car around a telephone pole and had to be cut out of it. I was lucky. I escaped with no major injuries, my life still intact, and a huge blemish on my driving record. Not to mention probation and the loss of my license and car, but at least I was still alive.

“Saylor, I need you to tell them that you were in that cab with me. Tell them the truth. Tell them what you saw and how she acted when I tried to leave with you.”

Tears begin to form, blurring my vision. “I can’t, Travis.”

“Why not?” he asks, his arms flailing about in frustration.

“Because I’ll lose everything.”

He stares me down, making me feel like I’m the worst person in the world. Here he is, on the cusp of a crisis, feeling as if I’m the answer when I’m not. When I can’t be. I have too much at stake, and while I know he does as well, he has

lawyers at his disposal that can help him. I only have me.

Before Travis can say anything else, Irvin and his team come in. Each associate is poised and ready for action as they gather around the conference table, taking their respective seats. A plate of bagels, assorted cream cheeses, and bowls of fresh fruit are set in the middle, making my mouth water. My stomach growls, catching Travis’s attention, and I watch while he reaches for some fruit. When he hands me the bowl, he does so with a smile. I know he’s genuine, but at the end of the day, he’s Travis Kidd, and that’s not enough for me to jeopardize everything I’ve worked for.

“All right,” Irvin says as he sits down, effectively breaking the trance that Travis has me under. “Travis, we need to go over your story.”

He sits down and sighs. I’m tempted to fix him a bagel or get him a cup of coffee but I take my seat instead. The bowl of fruit mocks me, though. Travis did something nice for me, and I could easily return the favor. Except when I stand to do so, a young woman, who I would guess is an intern, is handing him everything he needs. She leans into him, brushing her breasts along his arm, and when he looks at what she’s offering, a little piece of me dies on the inside. Not because I like him, but because he’ll never learn. The man is facing a rape charge and he’s gawking at this young woman’s breasts.

“Tell me about last night,” Irvin says, breaking Travis’s concentration on the intern.

“I was bored and decided to hit the bar. I thought I’d play some darts, shoot a little pool, and wait for the hockey game to be let out.”

“And Rachel Ward?”

Travis picks at his bagel, taking small bites. “She approached me, asked me if I wanted to play a few games with her. I bought a few rounds and let her hustle me for a game or two before I showed her I actually knew how to play pool.”

“Did you kiss her? Take her to the bathroom for sex? What about touching?”

Travis frowns and holds his head in his hands before looking back at Irvin. “Lots of touching, but nothing close to having sex. She’d brush up against me or bend over to give me a view of her cleavage. I touched her butt. We kissed, once or twice. I don’t really remember.”

“You need to remember, Travis.”

“I know,” he says. “My mind last night—it was elsewhere. On someone else.” He looks up and straight into my eyes. I deviate and take a sudden interest in what everyone else is doing. As I look around the table, everyone has their pens moving fluidly along their legal pads. A few scribble faster than others, flipping pages, drawing arrows, and adding sticky notes to the sides.

“On who? Is this the person you left with?” Irvin asks. He leans forward, knowing that this could break their case. I find myself doing the same, wondering if he’s going to out me. Knowing that if he does, I could face jail time and lose my job.

“I need to speak with her before I can give anyone her name.”

Irvin throws down his pen in frustration. “Travis, I need her name. I can subpoena her to testify.”

Travis pushes his bagel away from him and folds his hands. “It’s complicated. I’ll talk to her. Besides, I didn’t do this. Shouldn’t the rape kit be enough to prove that?”

“Some rape kits come back inconclusive,” an associate says. “We want a strong case moving forward, which is why we’re getting all of this down now. It’s fresh in your mind. When the DA submits their fact finding, we want to be prepared.”

“Fine, so you left the bar with who?” Irvin sighs at the end of his question.

“The other woman, sort of.”

“What do you mean, ‘sort of’?” Irvin asks, his frustration level growing, which is evident by the veins in his forehead.

I have to bite my tongue to keep from speaking out. I hate knowing that I could have a say in this, but at what cost? Travis leans back in his chair and pushes his hoodie off. His hair is wild, crazy, and the exact reason the phrase sex hair was invented. I’ve seen this look on him before. I put it there.

“We both got in a cab together, leaving Rachel on the sidewalk. She yelled something about how I’m going to pay for this. My friend got out of the cab, though, before it could pull away.”

Tags: Heidi McLaughlin The Boys of Summer Romance
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