Chapter 28
SALEM
The lawyer picks the diner because the sight lines are clean and the parking lot gives the undercover cars room to breathe. He touches the recorder in my pocket. “You don’t need it, but I like belts and suspenders.”
I catch his drift. Protection everywhere.
Two detectives sip coffee at the counter, another reads a menu two booths back. A fourth sits in a sedan by the dumpster. We’re not playing cowboy. We’re letting him talk. Letting him confess one last time.
I sit where the window gives me a glare shield. Hoodie, cap, hands open. I order coffee and let it go cold.
Troy walks in late, which is how he tells himself he still has power. Hoodie, cap, sunglasses. He slides in across from me and peels the glasses slow. He scans the room, maybe nervous, maybe proud. Hard to tell when he’s this high.
“You got it?” he says without hello.
“Got what?” I smirk.
He smiles like a teenager. “The money. You want the tape. You pay. I give. I delete.”
“How much?” He names a number that he thinks is big. I don’t blink. “You’ll give me the video. And destroy your copy.”
He leans back and shrugs. “That’s the deal. That’s what Quincy wants, so that’s what I’ll do. Isn’t that what we always do?”
I keep my face still somehow. “Quincy wants what?”
He grins, pleased with his own cleverness. “The sex tape,” he says. “The threat was Quincy’s idea. He figured it’d break you up, since she’s a slut who let herself get taped.”
I just witnessed a miracle and whatever is the opposite of a miracle. I don’t punch his face in for calling her a slut. And I don’t throw him onto the floor to demand what the fuck he means by Quincy’s idea.
“Quincy told you to break us up?”
“He thinks Lou’s a distraction. She’ll ruin the launch. He’s right about that—she’s the reason I couldn’t write. I’ve been on fire since she’s been gone.”
“That explains the purple smudges under your eyes.”
He ignores that. “Quincy’s been working with me to get this sorted for you, but I wanted to make some money first. So, I figured the sex tape would be two birds with one stone. A guy’s gotta eat.”
It clicks and burns. I keep my hands flat. “Quincy told you to threaten a tape.”
“He told me to fix it. I picked the tool.”
“And you have it with you.”
“I do. Thumb drive. I hand it to you. You hand me the envelope. You go your way. I go mine. You get to see the filthy shit she let me do to her instead of the whole world seeing it, and I get the hell out of Dodge to finish my album.”
I pull the envelope from my pocket and set it on the table. It’s paper rolled over paper. I tap the flap once. Troy watches like a dog.
“You’re sure it’s her?” I say.
He rolls his eyes. “She was my girlfriend first, Salem. I know what she looks like naked.”
I don’t flinch. “You’re sure she knew you were filming.”
He smirks harder. “Don’t be dumb.”
Heat comes up my spine. I put a lid on it. “Did Quincy have anything to do with the break-in at the studio, or was that all you?”
Troy laughs. “Now you’re getting it.”
I rake my nails over my stubble, needing to cause pain somewhere. “Why?”
“He needed those masters. Something to do with the label. I dunno. He knew that if you thought it was just me, you wouldn’t come digging into him.
So, I made it look like it was personal.
” He shrugs and laughs again. “It was easy. You guys always think everything is personal. All I had to do was give you a reason to think I cared enough to hurt you.”
Fuck me, he’s gone. “So, where’s the tape?”
He stands. “Follow me.”
Outside, the night smells like hot oil. The sedan doesn’t move.
The detectives at the counter keep eating.
We walk to his car. He pops the trunk, makes a little show of riffling a bag, then pulls out a thumb drive in a clear case.
As if he couldn’t have just brought it inside with him.
He licks his lips like a cartoon villain and holds it out.
I take the case and set it on the hood of my car. I set the envelope next to it. We both look at both. “Say it.”
“I give you the video and take the money. I destroy mine. Everyone’s happy. Fucking hell, Salem, do I have to explain blackmail to you?”
The sedan door opens. The detectives are already moving. One says, “Police,” like a punctuation mark. Another says, “Troy Turner, you’re under arrest for extortion, attempted extortion, and burglary.” He turns to run and runs straight into a badge.
He looks at me like I cheated. “You set me up!”
“You set yourself up by being a fucking idiot your whole goddamned life. You had a name, Troy. A family who loved you. A girlfriend who cared. You threw it all away for fuck all. You’re pathetic.”
They cuff him. He starts talking about Quincy again. “Call him,” he says to the air. “He’ll fix it. He told me to do it. He told me to threaten. He told me it would work. This is all his fault! Salem, you gotta call him! Get me out of this!”
“Get fucked, asshole.”
They put him in the car. Counsel steps out of the diner and nods at me. “Don’t say a word online. We’ll handle it.”
I sit in my car and put the thumb drive into my laptop. A single file. I look at the first frame. The angle is high and off to the side, propped somewhere awkward. I don’t see her face at first. I see hair I know and a shoulder.
I stop. My gut turns.
She isn’t performing for the camera, but he is. Making dumbass faces from behind her, grinning at the camera. He smacks her ass too hard, and she pulls away, still not aiming for the camera.
She has no idea it’s there.
“That was too hard.”
“That’s what I am, baby.”
“Not your cock,” she snaps at him. “The smack. Never your cock. You’re barely hard as it is.”
Something tells me he was going to edit this before he released it.
“And whose fault is that, Lou?”
“Are you saying it’s mine?”
He shrugs and flops on the bed, limp. “You stopped trying to be sexy for me. It worked.”
I don’t need to see more of this bullshit. I make a copy, pull the drive, pocket the copy, and hand the original to the detective who walks up with a bag and a form. He labels it. Chain of custody stays clean. Counsel tells me to go to the hotel and sit still. I nod.
I don’t go to the hotel.
I drive straight to Quincy’s. He’s doing a long-term townhouse rental while we’re here. I call my brothers. “Meet me at Quincy’s. Now.”
“Salem,” Knox says, warning in his voice.
“Worth the drive.”
Houston says, “We’re coming.”
I park in the slot marked with his unit number. Not a fan of waiting, but I want them here for this, so I wait. When they show up, I don’t explain. I pound on the door until the porch light comes on. He opens in a white shirt and slacks like he expects company. “Boys—”
“We’re not your boys right now,” I say, walking past him. Knox looks like he came straight out of the rehearsal room. Houston looks like he ran.
Quincy closes the door behind them. He starts to raise both hands like he’s a host.
I cut him off. “You’re working with Troy. On the sex tape threat. On the break-in.”
He blinks. He’s good at old man neutral. “What did he say?”
“He said it was your idea to use the tape to break us up. He said you told him Lou would ruin the launch. That the label wanted the old masters. That you were working together this whole time.”
Knox shakes his head and smiles at me. “You’re confused, Salem. Troy is a liar. We all know that.”
“He wasn’t lying. Not about this. I know it.”
“Quincy has managed us for fifteen years,” Houston says. “He’s been like a dad to us. He wouldn’t do that.”
But it only matters what Quincy says. “What about it? Is Troy a liar about this too?”
“I did what had to be done,” he says, quiet, like he’s disappointed in a child. “Just like I always have.”
Knox tenses. “What does that mean? Exactly what?”
“You boys are soft-hearted. You can’t handle breakups.”
“And…?” Houston asks.
“You needed me to break it up for the good of the family and the album. It’s not pleasant. But whenever a girl clung too hard, I handled it. One way or another. I always have. That way, you can focus on the music. It’s better this way.”
“Say that again.” Houston’s jaw clenches.
Quincy keeps going, calmer now that he’s chosen his lane. “You’re too close to see it. She’s talented. She helped. She also turned the cameras. We don’t need another person with claims on your brand. This is a long game. You pay me to play it for you.”
I feel my hands shake. I don’t move them. “You paid yourself to play it,” I say. “With our brother. With threats to her life.”
He tsks. “The death threats aren’t real. They’re a troll farm I use to drum up attention or apply pressure. Nothing to worry about.”
Knox’s face goes blank. “Fake death threats?”
“Tried to scare the girl off, but she’s a stage five clinger.
I had to use other methods. Honestly, you shouldn’t concern yourselves with the things I do for you.
I’ve made you millionaires. I’m the reason your mother has two homes and all the cheap jewelry she loves.
The reason you three can do whatever you want in the world.
I make things easy for you. That’s the deal. ”
I grind my teeth. “Belinda. Is this what you did to her too?”
He chortles. “Well, if you must know how the sausage is made, yes. A little money disappears, hire a girl who looks like her to shoplift and pick fights, it’s honestly easier than you think.”
Knox looks sick. Houston looks like someone pulled a rug out from under him.
I catch their attention. They both meet my eyes and nod once.
I turn back to Quincy. “You’re fired. You can expect to hear from our lawyers. And the police.”
He laughs like I told a joke and then sees I didn’t. “You’re the reckless one, Salem. Not the leader—”
“He’s right, Salem,” Knox says. “I’m the one with power of attorney for the band.” He turns to Quincy. “You are so fucking fired that I wish it were a literal term.”