Page 59 of Check You Out

My phone vibrates a few seconds later, and I take a quick peek at it.

Charlotte: I’m sorry! I ran into Xander and he invited me. Nicole joined us and we’ve been here for about an hour. We’ll pretend like you’re not here.

Aidan: Tell Xander he’s a dead man.

“You’re so full of shit, Lurch,” Nicole snaps and throws a napkin at her brother. “A vanilla latte with soy milk is not a three-bean soup!”

He slaps his hand on the table, causing me to jump in my chair. “Yes, it is! Coffee comes from a bean. A coffee bean. Vanilla also comes from a bean. A vanilla bean. Soy milk comes from soybeans. It’s all heated up, so it’s a three-bean soup.”

Charlotte shakes her head. “Nah, it’s a beverage, not a soup. You don’t eat your latte, just like you don’t drink your soup.”

I take a sip of my latte to hide a chuckle, remembering that I told her something similar a few weeks ago.

Xander whirls to face her. “You don’t even drink coffee. Your opinion doesn’t count.”

Charlotte blinks. “What the hell? I drink tea. By your logic a London Fog with soymilk,” she picks up her own drink to emphasis her point, “is a two-bean soup since it’s basically a vanilla latte, except with Earl Grey tea instead of coffee.”

Nicole holds up a finger. “You’re wrong. Just like you were about the big light. Living rooms should not look like a hospital.”

Dan smirks. “Some interesting characters here.”

Heat flushes my cheeks, and I take a sip of my latte, finding solace in the sweet maple and spicy cinnamon. “I don’t know them,” I say, hoping he takes the lie.

My father’s eyes grow wide. “One of them is wearing a Triple C apron and we’ve established you’re a regular.”

Well shit. I guess I can’t lie to him. This is supposed to be our first step in repairing our relationship, and now he’s probably thinking that I don’t trust him to be around my friends. “I know them. But I’m not introducing you to them to protect you. It’s for your own good.”

The former bangs his fist on the table and exclaims, “Come on Taylor Swift is overrated.” He makes eye contact with me and mouths, “You good?” I flip him off under the table and vow to hurt him later.

Nicole gasps and brings her hand to her chest. “How fucking dare you!” She jabs a finger at him. “I know where you sleep, and I will make sure that your pillow is warm. On both sides!”

Xander huffs. “What are you gonna do? Fart on my pillow?”

Sighing, I turn to my father. “We’re going to ignore and pretend they don’t exist.”

“I’ll take your word for it.” He eyes my friend skeptically and focuses his attention on me. “I’m really glad that we’re doing this.” He looks down at his hands. “Thank you.”

“Me too.” I drum my fingertips against the wood of the table. We sit there in silence for a few minutes, drinking latte and awkwardly avoiding eye contact. Nicole and Xander threaten to murder each other at their table while Charlotte tries to mediate.

I swallow hard. “There is something I want to talk to you about.”

Dan leans forward. “I’m all ears.”

My ribcage expands as I take in air. “It’s related to your work, both as a tax attorney and as a government official. I want to be clear that I didn’t bring you here under false pretenses or anything.” I let my gaze drop to my own hands, afraid to meet his gaze. “I want to have a better relationship with you.” I make a gesture to indicate the two of us. “But I also want your advice.”

He doesn’t say anything, just watches me with brown eyes, so like my own, and signals for me to go on.

Is he thinking I’m taking advantage of him?

“Have you ever come across someone who was maybe doing something they weren’t supposed to?”

He leans forward. “What do you mean? Like something illegal? Or just unethical?”

“Illegal,” I reply, my mouth going dry. “I think someone is doing something that might be considered fraudulent, or at minimum not disclosing a major conflict of interest. There’s potentially a lot of money involved too.”

His eyebrows rise, and he leans forward, tapping his knuckle on the table. “How much are we talking? Four figures?” I don’t reply, and he studies my face. “Five figures?” I don’t respond, and his eyebrows rise even higher. “Six figures?” He watches my lack of response, and his eyes grow wide. “Seven figures?” He whistles and lowers his voice. “Well first, do you have evidence?”

“Nothing concrete. Just suspicion.” I tell him about the county offices that are supposed to be renovated and my theories. He listens the entire time and gives away no hint of his emotion. “I know it seems a lot like a conspiracy theory, but I don’t know. Something doesn’t add up.”