Shame the Devil (Portland Devils #3) - Rosalind James Page 0,56

inspired by inspirational? I always think, ‘Easy for you to say, buddy.’”

Harlan said, “You and me both. If the Tao’s got something about gutting it out, though, I might listen to that. That tends to be more the way it works, from what I’ve seen. Like when people tell some guy playing wheelchair basketball that he’s inspirational for finding something he can do. What was he supposed to do, give up and lie in bed? You can only feel sorry for yourself so long. After that, you walk on. You figure there’s got to be something better up ahead, because it sure can’t be worse than this, and you walk on. At least, that’s how I do it.”

“Nobody’s putting that in a meme, bro,” Owen said. “Or the Tao.”

“Maybe not,” Harlan said, “but it works for me.”

17

Excess of Bratwurst

The pilot’s voice came over the intercom, telling them they were landing. Dyma went back to her seat, and Harlan saw Jennifer watching her, clearly restraining herself from telling her to buckle her seatbelt, and also clearly relaxing when Dyma did it without the reminder.

How would it feel to be that responsible for somebody? He couldn’t imagine. He really couldn’t imagine taking it on at fifteen. Grandfather and mother helping out or not, she’d been the mother of that baby, and she’d been the one going into that school every day, too.

There’d have been a trial, too, probably. Guys like that, in his experience, didn’t plead guilty, because they didn’t feel guilty. He’d have been sure he’d get off, because he hadn’t done anything any other guy wouldn’t have done, not with the way she’d asked for it. There’d have been nobody else in the witness box with Jennifer then, either. Did they close the courtroom for an underage victim, or had a roomful of accusing eyes, including the asshole’s, stared at her while she’d told that humiliating story? Had she had to listen to his justifications, too? He was willing to bet that everybody in town had found out the details pretty quickly, closed courtroom or not.

He remembered high school. It hadn’t always been easy, especially at home, and he’d been good-looking and a star. All those feelings, and you had about as much control over them as the tides. Whoever’d made up that thing about the thrill of victory and the agony of defeat had been talking about high school.

He was coming back to his own high school today as a hero, and here he’d been, whining about it.

Jennifer wasn’t looking at him, and then she was. Her color high, her eyes bright. Her chin went up, and he thought, Good for you. She said, “Well, that was more than you wanted to know.”

“Oh, I don’t know,” he said. “It had its moments. My favorite part was where your mom told that guidance counselor where to stick it.”

She laughed. “I couldn’t believe it. She was so brave.”

He wanted to hold her hand. He wanted to kiss her cheek. She had her hands in her lap, though. She was holding herself together, and the plane had popped out of the low-lying clouds and was nearly down. He said, “She wasn’t the only one.”

“What? Me?” She laughed again, but it sounded brittle, like she was all fragile pieces, held together with rubber bands. “When we’re … somewhere else …” A glance at Dyma, who was looking out the window, clearly fascinated. Thinking about the altimeter, or something. Jennifer went on, “Ask me then how brave I was.”

“I will,” he said. “But you could look at it this way. Did you graduate from that high school?”

“I did. No choice.”

“Then you were brave,” he said. “Because there’s always a choice.” He smiled at her. It was a little painful. “And you must miss your mom like crazy.”

As he watched, her eyes filled with tears. “She always …” She took a breath. “She always … believed in me.”

“You know what I think?”

“No.” She tried to laugh, and grabbed a napkin to wipe away the tears.

“I think,” he said, “that she still does.”

They were met on the ground by another SUV and another uniformed driver. Dyma asked Harlan, “Where do you get all the chauffeurs? Do they just follow around after you, or what?”

“Nope,” he said. “They meet the plane, whoever’s on it. Don’t think they’re impressed by me, because they’re not. They have to be polite to everybody, even if the guy’s an ass— a jerk. It’s their job.”

“I know the word ‘asshole,’” Dyma said.

“I