Shaw found the first moment: Pari and Chuck making out, surrounded by the bros. Then he scrolled the video forward to when Pari fell on the table, choosing a moment when the bros were leaning in and Chuck was barely in the frame, so that it looked like the men had hauled Pari backward instead of Chuck pushing her. The last moment he showed the Romney boy was Pari sitting up on the table, her face a mask of shock and horror, her mouth clearly forming a noise that could have been—must have been—No, while the boy groped her breast.

“That’s totally wack,” Romney boy said.

“Totally wack?” North said. “What is this guy? Sixteen?”

“Sixteen and living in 1987.”

“You’re lying. You’re making up this shit.”

“Tell them about Cousin Rodney,” North said.

“Oh, right.” Shaw met Romney boy’s eyes. “He wants me to drop the whole private investigator gig and go to law school.”

“Not that part.”

“It’s context. He might need to know.”

“Shaw, he doesn’t need to know that you can’t score higher than the 130s on the LSAT.”

“Hold on. Hold on. Those were practice tests. And I took them junior year. And you know I had a cold—”

“Dude,” Romney boy said. “What the fuck?”

“That’s what I’m saying,” North said. “And he thinks he can be a lawyer.”

“No,” Shaw said. “I never said I could be a lawyer, I just said I could score higher than you on the LSAT if I actually tried.”

“Just tell him the important part.”

“What? Oh. Right. I’m sending stills of those three moments to Cousin Rodney.”

“What the fuck?” Romney boy said, glancing left and right. “What the fuck is going on?”

“Rodney Preston? Associate Dean of Students at Chouteau’s law school? He’s not going to be happy.”

“See,” North said, “if I were a lawyer—”

“If we were lawyers,” Shaw corrected.

“There’s no way he’s going to believe that, Mr. 133 on the LSAT. Let me finish. If I were a lawyer, I’d probably be ethically obligated to disclose the full video or something like that. I’d probably have to give context. I’d probably risk some sort of career-ending punishment if I tried something like that.”

“Yeah,” Shaw said. “If we tried something like that, it could end our careers. As lawyers.”

“I’m telling you, if you’d just study, just read the practice book, you could beat 133.”

“I was sick. I’d probably get a 170 if I took it right now.”

“Fine. Let’s go back to the office. You can do one of the online practice tests right now. Tonight.”

“I didn’t mean tonight tonight. I was just making the point that—”

“Dude,” Romney boy screamed.