The Stranger Read Free

a little too much gusto. Tripp Evans sidled up to him. Len slid him a Bud too. Tripp held it up and clinked bottles with Adam. The two men drank in silence while the meeting broke up. Guys called out their good-byes. Gaston rose dramatically—he was big on dramatically—and shot a glare at Adam. Adam lifted the bottle toward him in a “cheers” response. Gaston stormed out.
    “Making friends?” Tripp asked.
    “I’m a people person,” Adam said.
    “You know he’s the VP of the board, right?”
    “I must remember to genuflect next time I see him,” Adam said.
    “I’m president.”
    “In that case, I better get some kneepads.”
    Tripp nodded, liking that line. “Bob’s going through a lot right now.”
    “Bob’s an ass waffle.”
    “Well, yes. Do you know why I stay on as president?”
    “Helps you score chicks?”
    “Yes, that. And because if I resign, Bob’s next in line.”
    “Shiver.” Adam started to put down his beer. “I better go.”
    “He’s out of work.”
    “Who?”
    “Bob. Lost his job over a year ago.”
    “I’m sorry to hear that,” Adam said. “But that’s no excuse.”
    “I didn’t say it was. I just wanted you to know.”
    “Got it.”
    “So,” Tripp Evans continued, “Bob has this headhunter helping him find a job—a big-time, very important headhunter.”
    Adam put down the beer. “And?”
    “So this big-time headhunter is trying to find Bob a new job.”
    “So you said.”
    “So the headhunter’s name is Jim Hoch.”
    Adam stopped. “As in Jimmy Hoch’s father?”
    Tripp said nothing.
    “That’s why he wants the kid on the team?”
    “What, you think Bob cares that the parents are divorced?”
    Adam just shook his head. “And you’re okay with it?”
    Tripp shrugged. “Nothing here is pure. You get a parent involved in their own kids’ sports, well, you know it’s like a mother lion around a cub. Sometimes they pick a kid because he lives next door. Sometimes they pick a kid because he’s got a hot mom who dresses provocatively at the games. . . .”
    “You know that from personal experience?”
    “Guilty. And sometimes they pick a kid because his daddy can help them get a job. Seems a better reason than most.”
    “Man, you’re so cynical for an ad exec.”
    Tripp smiled. “Yeah, I know. But it’s like we always talk about.How far would you go to protect your family? You’d never hurt anyone; I’d never hurt anyone. But if someone threatens your family, if it means saving your child . . .”
    “We’d kill?”
    “Look around you, my friend.” Tripp spread his arms. “This town, these schools, these programs, these kids, these families—I sometimes sit back and can’t believe how lucky we all are. We’re living the dream, you know.”
    Adam did know. Sort of. He had gone from underpaid public defender to overpaid eminent domain attorney in order to pay for the dream. He wondered whether it was worth it. “And if Logan has to pay the price?”
    “Since when is life fair? Look, I had these clients from a major car company. Yeah, you know the name. And yeah, you read in the paper recently how they covered up a problem with their steering columns. A lot of people got hurt or killed. These car guys, they’re really nice. Normal. So how do they let it happen? How do they work out some cost-benefit crap and let people die?”
    Adam could see where he was going with this, but the ride was always a good one with Tripp. “Because they’re corrupt bastards?”
    Tripp frowned. “You know that isn’t true. They’re like tobacco company employees. Are they all evil too? Or how about all the pious folks who covered up church scandals or, I don’t know, pollute the rivers? Are they all just corrupt bastards, Adam?”
    Tripp was like this—a suburban-dad philosopher. “You tell me.”
    “It’s perspective, Adam.” Tripp smiled at him. He took off his cap, smoothed down the receding wisps of hair, put it back on his head. “We humans