“This is a collect call from an inmate at the Cuyahoga County Jail. All calls will be monitored and recorded. To accept the call and the associated charges, please press one now.”

What the hell?

My jaw drops, and I turn and look at Cole. His eyebrows are raised like he’s not sure what my reaction means. But then again, I’m not sure either.

I press one.

“Your call is being connected,” a robot voice says.

The line clicks, and the sound of chaos drifts through the phone.

“Palm?”

My stomach drops to my feet as I hear Jared’s voice. This might just do me in.

“What the hell is going on, Jared?” I ask.

“Hey, yeah, I need your help.”

I squeeze my temples. “What did you do now?”

“Come on,” he says, irritation thick in his voice. “I’m in a bind and could do without the attitude.”

Is he serious right now?

I drop my hand . . . but not the attitude.

“You’re the one calling me from jail,” I say. “So I think you need to stop criticizing me and get to the point.”

Cole jumps to his feet.

“I got picked up last night,” Jared says, as if everyone gets picked up for a stint in the clink on a routine basis. “It’s a bunch of bullshit, but my bond is eight thousand dollars. Ten percent, though. Could you float me eight hundred dollars and come get me out?”

I don’t know whether to laugh, cry, or rage. Maybe all three. Any of them would be an acceptable reaction.

“First of all, I don’t have eight hundred dollars, Jared.”

“Can’t you gather it? I’ll pay you back. You know I’m good for it—”

“No.” I grit my teeth. “I can’t just gather it.” And he’s not good for it either. “Do you think I know people that have a few hundred dollars lying around to donate to your cause? Money that I’ll owe them back because you’ll never come up with the money. We’ve done this before.”

“Palmer—”

“Do not ‘Palmer’ me.” I run a hand through my hair and pace the room. “I’ve had the shittiest day of my life, and now you’re calling me for help. You, the man that has never showed up for me when I’ve needed you.”

He sighs.

Steam rolls from my head as my disbelief and sadness mold into anger. The fact that I feel better dealing with the anger than the alternative is probably a talking point for a therapy session.

Cole comes up beside me and rests his palm on the small of my back.

“What about your boss? Ask him. The man is loaded,” Jared says.