What bullshit.
Kenny cleared his throat. “We believe two million dollars is an unreasonable number and would consider a settlement that better reflects actual injuries sustained. Mr. Jennings lost only three days’ work, which in no way affected him significantly financially, and he has no lasting injuries. My client is willing to offer one hundred thousand dollars, which more than covers physical and emotional trauma.”
Jennings sneered in my direction, bypassing his attorney and the mediator, speaking directly to me. “You really think I’m going to let you get away with a hundred thousand dollars? After you had the nerve to show up at my house? Making demands of me?”
Feathers ruffled in a rustle of pure dismay, all the suits up in arms the second Jennings gave into the outburst that had been building since the second I walked through the door.
As if this could have possibly ended any other way.
Bad blood always boiled.
His attorney leaned in and whispered something severe in his ear.
Jennings just shook him off.
His attention was back on me, that same pompous expression lining every curve of his face. “Do you know who I am?”
Did I know who he was?
Money.
Arrogance.
Ego.
Pride.
I also knew he was one of the reasons Sunder was what it was today. He’s the one who’d spotted us in that small, dank, musty bar in Tennessee. The one who’d approached us. Fronted the money for our first real studio time. Gained us entrance through all the doors we needed to pass.
Yeah. I knew him.
But none of that counted anymore.
My voice narrowed in challenge. “What I want to know is why you were coming off our bus that night.”
“I wasn’t anywhere near your bus that night.”
I slammed my hand down on the table. “I saw you!”
Everyone had been backstage, hanging out after the show, letting loose the way we always did. I’d skated out back, crossed the darkened lot to the bus, needing to check on my little brother. After what happened to Mark, I’d finally dragged Austin to rehab, bribed my father to sign for him since he was still underage, forced my brother to stay there when all he wanted was to burn himself right into the ground. When he’d been discharged, I wanted to keep him near, but didn’t want him too close, because I couldn’t stand the thought of me being the reason he was exposed to the things that continued to tear up his life. If he was hanging out backstage, I knew he would.
So I’d told him stay on the bus. That fucking bus where I’d walked in to find Mark months before.
The same bus where I’d seen this asshole stealing out the door.
The same bus where I’d walked inside and found my baby brother just like I’d found Mark, overcome by the same shit I’d been trying to save both of them from. The same shit I’d dragged my best friend into in the first place, then my little brother had just followed suit.
Only this time, I hadn’t been too late.
Everyone’s eyes darted back and forth between us, trying to catch up.
Only Kenny and Anthony knew what I was talking about. After Mark, we’d made the decision to keep Austin’s overdose quiet. I thought I was doing Austin a favor. Protecting him. Keeping the hounds like the ones who were hanging out downstairs from sniffing around in this kid’s life who’d suffered more grief than anyone should endure in a lifetime.
Right then, I was pretty sure that had been the wrong decision.
Hindsight’s a bitch.
“Excuse me,” Jennings’s attorney cut in, “but I’m not sure what your client is insinuating here. Let’s keep this to the matter at hand.”
Matter at hand?
Well this fucking mattered.
“Tell me, what did you say to my brother that night? What did you give him?”
Scum like Jennings had their fingers in every pot, and he had his dipped deep, covered in the residue of all that dirty money feeding the addicts in this cursed town, even though he kept the front of a straight-edged businessman.