It was official: they were going to trial. Candace had been frank about their chances: sixty-forty in Jeff and Kim’s favor. She had also been frank about the ugliness, the toxicity they would be forced to endure. Paul Wilcox might look like a hairless panda bear, but he could be brutal in court. Jeff didn’t doubt it after the way that Teletubby had gone after him at the hearing for discovery. Candace also advised them that Paul had some ruthless investigators at his disposal. Still . . . Jeff felt a sense of calm as he cruised through mercifully light, late-morning traffic. There was no more dirty laundry to be aired: he’d told Candace about the bottle of sparkling wine he’d given the girls and she wasn’t overly concerned; she’d confirmed that Jeff’s LSD use was “fruit of the poisonous tree,” since Paul had learned of it through inappropriate channels; and Kim’s wine and sedative use was commonplace and didn’t constitute neglect. A trial might be hard, it might get nasty, but it was the right thing to do. Kim, seated in the passenger seat, felt the same way. At least he thought that was what she was twittering on about.
“I actually feel relieved. . . . I mean, at least we’ll get the chance to stand up for ourselves.” Kim paused, clearly waiting for Jeff’s affirmation. He made an mm-hmm sound that served the purpose. “When Lisa realizes we mean business, I wouldn’t be surprised if she backs out. She’ll see that eight fifty was an incredibly generous offer. Of course, she’s not going to get that now.”
He glanced over at his wife and saw her smile: smug, self-satisfied, almost triumphant. . . . Kim was confident they were going to win before they’d even started. Jeff was confident, too, but he was smart enough to know that no trial was a sure thing. Judges could be biased. Jury members could be swayed. Kim seemed positively jubilant, and it was way too soon.
“It’s almost noon,” Kim said, glancing at her Cartier watch. Her hand reached over and touched his forearm. “Want to grab some lunch? It feels like we should mark the occasion in some way . . . maybe oysters at the little place by the water?”
He was right. She was trying to turn their declaration of battle into a celebration. “I have to get back to work,” he lied. “I’ve got a meeting. I’ll drop you back at the house.”
Kim didn’t speak, but her body language said it all. She sank into the leather seat, getting smaller, shrinking into herself. He had hurt her and he felt bad . . . but not bad enough to drink wine, clink glasses, and eat oysters with her.
“Let’s go out for dinner this weekend . . . take the kids for pasta,” he said cheerily. “We haven’t been to Flour and Water in forever.”
Kim nodded and gave him a small smile. Hopefully, she was appeased.
He let his wife out in the driveway and, without going inside, drove the 101 straight to the office. There was no pressing meeting, but he and Graham had talked about going for a run during their lunch break. Kim always resented his training, that’s why he’d made up the story about a meeting. His spouse viewed his exercise regimen as an excuse to be away from her, away from home, away from the kids. Kim didn’t understand that he needed it more now than ever. There was nothing like a run to get the endorphins going, increase serotonin production, lower stress . . . maybe there was a drug that could do the same job, but obviously that wasn’t an option.
Graham was loitering outside his office when he arrived. “Where have you been? I thought we were going for a run.”
“We are. Let me get changed.”
There was a six-mile route that ran from the office, along the edge of the Stanford campus and back. Six miles was nothing to Jeff, but Graham struggled with it. In fact, they’d just reached the edge of the stunning Spanish-inspired Greenleaf Lab when Graham requested a break.
“Sorry, mate. Too much beer last night.”
“Too many hangovers at work can be career limiting.”
“Says the guy who showed up at noon and then went for a run.” Graham stretched his calf. “Where were you this morning, anyway?”
“Lawyer’s office. We’re going to trial.”
Graham abruptly stopped stretching. “Are you fucking serious?”
“Kim and I thought a lot about it, and we’ve decided to stand up for ourselves. We feel good about it.”
Graham wiped his sweaty face with the end of his shirt. “You can’t do this.”
“We can and we are. . . . Lisa’s being punitive and vindictive. Our lawyer agrees.”
Graham stared up at the sky for a moment, like he’d just noticed clouds for the first time. Then Jeff realized the man was shaking his head, almost chuckling with incredulity. “No fucking way,” he muttered to the birds.
“Uh . . . yes way.”
Graham looked at his colleague. “There’s something you need to know, Jeff . . . about the LSD.”
Fuck.
“My wife knows about it.”
“You said she didn’t.”
“Because I thought you were fucking smart enough to keep this out of court!” Graham’s face was red, not just from the exertion. He was angry. And scared. Oh shit . . .
The big man paced as he continued. “Jennie knew I was on something when I came home that day. So I told her we’d taken some LSD. I didn’t think she’d freak out—she’s not an uptight twat like Kim.”
“Watch it, asshole.”
Graham continued to move back and forth like a caged bear. “But Jennie freaked out . . . Taking psychedelics in the middle of the day made her think I was some crazed drug friend.”
“Right. Okay . . .” Jeff said over the hammering in his chest. “But obviously she’s not going to volunteer this information.”
“It gets worse.” Graham stopped pacing. “Jennie needed to get away after she found out. She said she needed space to ‘process it.’ She went to a fucking mindfulness retreat . . . yoga, meditation, lots of juice . . . I don’t fucking get it.”
“And?”
“She made a new friend there . . . Lisa Monroe.”
Jeff could hear the blood pounding in his ears and his chest tightened. Was this a heart attack? A panic attack? Maybe he wasn’t in as good of shape as he thought? But Graham just kept talking, like Jeff wasn’t about to collapse into a quivering pile of jelly right in front of him.
“Jennie told Lisa everything—Lisa’s dealt with druggie boyfriends in the past, so she was Jennie’s confidante, her sounding board. Lisa was all too happy to listen to every gory fucking detail.”
“Jesus Christ, Graham. Why didn’t you tell me this?”
“Because I thought you’d take care of it, asshole! I thought you’d make it right!”
“We are making it right. It was an accident! It could have happened anywhere!”
Graham resumed his pointless walking. “Jennie will be subpoenaed. . . . She’ll have to testify that you and I took LSD together. She’ll be humiliated.”
“Let me talk to my lawyer,” Jeff said, keeping his voice calm and steady. “Maybe we can prevent her from taking the stand.”