your day.”
My father raised one brow and looked at me.
“Anything. But. Football,” Ryan said, his nostrils flaring.
Mr. James pushed on. “Such as?”
“Such as … anything,” Ryan said, raising his voice slightly.
“Okay. How about this Walker investigation? Shea—I saw your story … Anything to that?”
I opened my mouth to answer as Ryan dropped his palm to the table. “That’s football, Dad.”
“But at least it’s not about your god-awful game today.”
“Honey. Don’t,” Mrs. James whispered to her husband as Ryan threw back his whiskey.
“How’s the investigation going?” Mr. James pressed, not letting me off the hook.
“It’s … going,” I said as Ryan touched my leg under the table, giving me strength to continue. “I guess. I really don’t know. The NCAA won’t comment. Walker won’t comment. My sources won’t be named … Which is actually a relief for me. Means there’s nothing to write about.”
“And? Do you think they have anything on us?”
I wanted to tell him he wasn’t any part of us. I wanted to tell him to shut the hell up. Instead, something inside me snapped and I said, “Well, I don’t know, sir. I did hear that you bought a car for Cedric Washington. Is that true?”
I glanced at Ryan, who gave me a small nod, though I wasn’t sure if he was confirming the rumor or giving me moral support.
In any event, Mr. James remained perfectly calm as he said, “What’s the statute of limitations on that?”
“I don’t know,” I said, then pressed, “So you did? Buy him a car?”
“I might have,” Mr. James said.
“Honey,” Mrs. James said again.
“What?” he snapped back at her. “Shea asked me a question.”
My father started to whistle, a nervous habit, and even Astrid had caught on that the situation was becoming dire, as she began murmuring to herself how much she loved the wine, then turned to ask Wiley what he had ordered. Wiley filled her in on the vintage and vineyard. He’d been there, of course, with Bronwyn, who also chimed in. Ordinarily it was the sort of thing that irritated me, but I could tell everyone was doing their very best to cast a lifeline to Ryan and me. It was almost touching.
“Where did you hear that, Shea? Or do the questions only go one way?” Mr. James said with a big, fake laugh.
I smiled and said, “I can’t reveal my sources.”
“C’mon. Did you talk to Ced?”
“It’s just a rumor. Just like this entire investigation is built on rumor, conjecture. It’s a house of cards. Like everything else the NCAA is doing these days.”
It was the right thing to say because there was a perceptible shift after that. Or maybe the whiskey was just doing the trick.
“Couldn’t agree more,” Mr. James said, raising his glass.
I didn’t like the idea of being on the same side of an argument with him, but I was more intent on getting through the meal without a full-on explosion, so I kept on with my anti-NCAA rant, lifted mostly from Coach. Meanwhile, Ryan retreated into a dark silence, speaking only when spoken to. I couldn’t blame him, though, and was sure nobody else held it against him either. If anything, as we muddled through dinner, I felt myself growing ever more protective of him—almost as if he were still a little boy getting bullied by his father.
By the end of dinner, when my father suggested that we all return to the Ritz for a drink, I quickly declined. “Ryan needs to get home to rest,” I said.
“Yeah. I need to ice this knee,” he said, as conversation hit another major lull, a rarity with that many people at the table.
When the bill came, all the men fought over it. Mr. James won, and the other three quickly relented, likely accepting it as repentance for his awful behavior. Then we all got up and made our way back to the valet. They brought Ryan’s Porsche first, even though he’d lost his ticket, and Ryan discreetly tipped the valet a twenty. Only then did he turn to me and say, “What are you doing now?”
“What do you want me to do?” I whispered.
“It’s up to you,” he said.
“Do you want to be alone?”
“No,” he said. “I want you to come over.”
“Okay, then. I’ll go get my car at the Ritz and come over.”
Ryan nodded. Then I watched him dig down and scrounge up a last scrap of charm.
“Really great to meet you, sir. And next time,” he said, shaking my dad’s hand, “I’ll make sure you guys