Page 45 of Bulletproof

“Tell me.”

“I—Jory, there are things you don’t know about my divorce.”

“Like what?”

“Why do you care?”

“Why does it have to be me who goes?”

He stared at me.

I waited.

“I just—you’re not afraid of pissing me off, and you speak your mind, and no one’s given me so much crap in years.”

“Why is that good?”

“It’s different.”

“So, you want a friend who gives you shit.”

He sighed. “I want a friend who is a friend and not somebody who wants to be my friend because I’m Hayes Fisher, heir to Fisher Ryson.”

“I’ve never heard of Fisher Ryson.”

“That’s the parent company, Jory. The companies you’ve heard of are too many to list.”

“So, you’re rich.”

“Yep.”

“Like, very?”

“Like, very.”

“So, why do you own that shitty house, then? Why not buy a mansion in Highland Park?”

“It’s not a shitty house, and I happen to love Oak Park!”

“Why’re you yelling at me?”

“I don’t know,” he said, exhaling sharply. “I think because I want you to like the house in Oak Park.”

“What does it matter?”

“I have no idea.”

“Are you all right?”

He seemed frantic.

“Will you just get in the car?”

“It’s only two in the afternoon.”

“Yeah, and my brother lives in Lake Forest, and I still have to get my mother a gift.” He was exasperated. “So, can we go?”

“I’m not dressed for a party.”