CHAPTER 35
Wilson Estate
Cliff Road, Nantucket
The Team Rhino welcome-to-Nantucket party at Alan and Constance Wilson’s house was in full swing—and a roaring success.
The hedge-fund giant had found his second lease on life and was eager to meet Tristan to discuss some “possibilities.” Si seemed impressed by the team, and relieved of whatever stressors he’d been facing at home before the sunken-Porsche episode.
Connie charmed my team as much as she had me. Wolf, as I’d predicted, was especially intrigued. Oliver made sure he stayed on his best behavior, while I hung out with Meg and JP, sipping cold beers and bullshitting about life and Rocket’s Red Glare.
JP wouldn’t let up. “Let’s talk to Tristan when we get back down there, Nat. Meg knows the deal.”
Meg smiled and agreed that if it ever reached Tristan’s desk, she would back JP’s play. Then she gave me a punch on the arm and said, “Enough about rockets and secret agencies—let’s talk about Nathan’s new girlfriend.”
I halfway stood from my seat next to her and in a split second pushed her back onto the grass, then pinned her down with my foot. She was caught off guard and laughing so hard that she dropped her beer bottle, making her laugh even louder and call for help from JP and Oliver.
“Let’s not talk about Nathan’s new girlfriend,” I said, enunciating each syllable as I stood over Meg. “Because there isn’t one.”
“You’re gonna pay for this, Mr. Phillips,” she said.
I was formulating a smart-ass reply when Oliver broadsided me, knocking me off everybody’s favorite little sister. The wrestling game was on, right there in the Wilsons’ yard.
I tried to roll with him, but his momentum carried us another full revolution and he assumed a Brazilian jujitsu position known as the mounted guard. Oliver immediately began slapping me—and not softly, either. I tried to escape, but he had me at a perfect disadvantage.
Not to be outdone, JP launched himself across the grass from about six feet away and landed on top of both Oliver and me. I was now at the bottom of almost 400 pounds of idiot and knew it was only a matter of time before the others joined in.
Our hosts looked on, incredulous, as Wolf Kerr went down in Nantucket history as the first man to perform a perfect somersault onto a pile of humans. With a thundering cry of Dogpile! Meg leaped on top, and we all burst into hysterics and rolled away on the grass.
I assumed such a spectacle had never occurred in the backyard of the Wilson palace. Whatever concern Alan and Connie might have been feeling about their unusual guests and their behavior, their curiosity won out.
Si clapped and cheered, and his parents joined in.
That seemed the signal to leave. We helped the Wilsons clean up, then said our goodbyes and climbed into my ancient Defender for the twenty-minute ride back to my place.