“I got something special for you today,” he said, not quite in a whisper but quietly enough for it to feel conspiratorial. I didn’t care what beer it was; his tone was just what I needed.

“Thank you,” I said. “Seriously.”

“Are you ready to do your job now?” Trey barked, and if I could bottle the look Jack gave him before turning his back, I would spray it on myself every morning and every night.

“It’s like he hates money.”

“I think he just hates you.”

“You wish.”

I, too, turned my back to Trey and focused on the beer Jack had given me. It was Pabst, and I was thrilled.

“So,” Trey said, drumming his fingers in a distressing off-rhythm. “You must be feeling pretty shitty tonight.”

I clasped my cup with my whole fist as I took a sip.

“Not really.”

“Bullshit. After what we pulled in the meeting?”

“So you admit it was a hoax?”

Trey laughed and cracked his neck. “I admit nothing.”

“Then why are you still sitting here? Jack’s over there.”

I nodded at the other side of the bar, where the rest of the clamoring crowd had migrated. Trey was silent for a moment, but I knew he wouldn’t be able to stay that way.

“She’s a firecracker, huh?” he asked.

I didn’t respond.

“I mean, don’t get me wrong—I love a woman who knows what she wants.”

I took another sip and checked the TV. Hell has a lot to offer, if you know where to look!

Trey peered over both of my shoulders and leaned in closer.

“Did she ever say she wanted to—” He swallowed. “Like, in the bedroom—”

“We didn’t have that kind of a relationship.”

“Sure,” Trey said, nodding. “That makes sense. But we totally do, just so you know. Totally. And it’s awesome.”

There was another moment of silence—or as much silence as one could get in a crowded dive bar—before he leaned in again.

“Trey, if you want a drink, just go down there.”

He looked down the bar and back again, fidgeting with the one coaster Jack had put out in the past millennium.

“It’s just—do you know what her relationship was with that whole football team? Was she . . . fucking them?”

I almost choked on my beer, which was precious and not made to be hard going down.

“What are you saying?”

“It’s just—”

Jack turned back then, done with his freeze, and when Trey caught his eye, he waved wildly.

“What?” I asked. “It’s just what?”

“Jäger, please, for the love of everything dark and horrible.”

Jack nodded and primed the pump.

“Trey, what? What about the team?”

If he had learned something from his memory dive in Jason’s mind, I deserved to know it too. And maybe it could explain Cal’s sudden . . .

No, I thought. Hell was all the explanation I needed.