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I blink. “I’ve never heard you say those words before.”
“I’m sure I have,” he says. For a second, his eyes flicker to his phone, then back to me.
“No, you never did.”
“Well, I’m sorry for that, too.”
I take another drink of my whiskey and it does nothing to stop the room spinning, or make what he’s saying make sense. “What’s happening here? Why are you acting like this?”
A smile that makes me doubt everything he’s ever said breaks his lips. “I’m just trying to be nice,” he says, in the same tone I’d expect someone to use as they held the blade of a knife to my throat. “You have your paper coming up, your new boyfriend, a shot at a nice life, and I have made a lot of mistakes. Let me at least make up for some of them, OK?”
I narrow my eyes at Jay, trying to decipher his sudden change in demeanor. Every instinct screams that this is a trap, that he's playing some kind of twisted game. But I'm here, aren't I? I might as well see where this leads.
"Alright," I say cautiously, taking another sip of my whiskey. The burn in my throat matches the unease in my stomach. "So, what exactly did you want to talk about?"
Jay leans back in his chair, he checks his phone, puts it away, and then drums with his fingers on the sticky tabletop. "I've been thinking a lot about our past, Emily. About all the shit I put you through." He pauses, his eyes flickering to mine. "I want to make things right."
I can't help but scoff. "Make things right? How exactly do you plan on doing that?"
"By letting you go," he says simply. "No more blackmail, no more threats. I’m done with threats. I want to really end things. In fact, I'll tell Officer Abrams to drop the charges. If you want, I’ll even call him right now."
My heart skips a beat, but I force myself to remain calm. This is too good to be true. "Just like that? What's the catch?"
Jay's smile turns rueful. "The catch is that I'm a changed man. I've seen the error of my ways, or some bullshit like that." He leans forward, his voice dropping. "I'm tired, Emily. Tired of being the bad guy, tired of chasing after something I can't have, tired of being taunted with it. That’s why I want to end all this."
I stare at Jay, searching his face for any sign of sincerity, but all I see is that unsettling smile. My instincts scream at me to run, but I'm rooted to my seat, caught between disbelief and morbid curiosity.
“So, will you call him now?”
“I will, if you ask nicely.”
“Jay, will you please call him now? For me?”
Jay takes out his phone. Looks at it. Smiles. And then dials. He switches it to speaker, and I hear it ring several times before a familiar voice answers. Abrams.
“Jay, what’s up?”
“I’m here with Emily, just getting a drink. How you doing, buddy?”
“Busy working. Just got done with a very important project, that one I was telling you about. Really happy with it. It went exactly as I’d hoped.”
“Great,” Jay says, his eyes on me. “Listen, I want you to do me a huge favor: tell the DA to drop the charges against Emily and against Maggie Simmons.”
“Are you serious?” Officer Abrams’ voice vibrates with anger.
“Absolutely.”
There’s a long stretch of silence, followed by a sigh. “Fine,” Abrams says.
Jay looks at me for a moment, grinning. “Happy?”
I just shrug. “It’s a good start, but please don’t be upset if I don’t totally trust you.”
Muffled laughter comes over the phone. “Man, you are really killing it tonight, aren’t you, buddy? Is that all the game you’ve got?”
Jay snorts. “Hardly. Hold on for a second, buddy,” he says. He swipes on his phone a few more times. There’s another set of rings, and then another voice comes on the line.
“Jay Thompson? What are you doing calling me? Did something happen to your father?” Says a voice that I immediately recognize as the DA who spent hours interrogating me at the courthouse just the other day.
