Page 71 of My Turn
“And how does this involve me?”
“I need you to fix it,” he replied simply.
“How?”
“Get into the computer. Fudge the numbers a little, nothing too noticeable, but enough to get him a passing grade. I’ll make sure he keeps it that way, but with the semester already halfway over, he ain’t gonna make it. I don’t really care how you do it, just do it.”
“This could get me arrested,” I pointed out as I poured another cup.
“So could killing your brother and stalking my little sister, but here we are.”
Dropping my head back, I considered my options. I had none. Ben was like me. He knew enough information about the people around him to fuck things up if he didn’t get what he wanted.
“Fine. Who’s the target?”
“Some English teacher. Kinda an asshole. Carson hates the guy. Everhart.”
Because of course it was.
Chapter 27
Jayce
Dad:He’s getting served this weekend. Hoping everything goes smoothly, but when does it ever?
Slipping the phone back into my pocket, I tried not to think too much about it right now. It was their case and I would help where I could but if I got too involved, I might consider removing Mike from the picture altogether to make it easier. I had to keep a grip on myself or people could start disappearing at an alarming rate.
“Mr. Weste,” Mia greeted with a massive smile. Her eyes basically devoured me as I made my way over to her.
“Hey, Mia. I bet you’re glad it’s Friday.”
“You have no idea. I think it’s because of the holiday next week. These kids are freaking insane right now.”
“I bet. They’ll be a riot for you.”
“Oh, god. I might need something to de-stress.”
I licked my lips to hide the way her insinuation made me cringe. “I’d say the break might help, but some families tend to cause more stress.”
“What about yours?”
“Nah, mine are great. I’m lucky.”
Her expression morphed into something familiar. “Is this the first Thanksgiving without…”
I offered her a smile. “Yeah. At least we’ll all be together to get through it.”
“Will Ms. Monroe be there?”
“Of course. She’s family.”
“That’s so nice.”
Yes, it was so nice that I would bring the woman I loved to Thanksgiving with my family. In fact, if she ever tried to back out of it, I’d duct tape her, throw her over my shoulder, then chain her to a dining room chair so that I could force feed her mashed potatoes. At the end of it, I’d call her my good girl and she’d realize she was being needlessly obstinate.
“Maybe I’ll see you next week,” she went on.
“You know I’ll be here at least once.”