The Stranger Read Free

mouth to say more, but what was the point? He wouldn’t win this argument, and what was he making it for anyway? He didn’t even know who the hell Logan was. It was a distraction from the mess the stranger had left behind. Nothing more. He knew that. He got up from the chair.
    â€œWhere are you going?” Gaston asked, chin stuck out long enough to invite a punch.
    â€œRyan is on the A team, right?”
    â€œRight.”
    That was why Adam was there—to advocate, if need be, for his son. Done. The rest was flotsam. “Have a good night, guys.”
    Adam made his way back to the bar. He nodded at Len Gilman, the police chief in town, who liked to work behind the bar because it kept down the DUIs. Len nodded back and slid Adam a bottle of Bud. Adam twisted off the cap with 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.
    â€œMaking friends?” Tripp asked.
    â€œI’m a people person,” Adam said.
    â€œYou know he’s the VP of the board, right?”
    â€œI must remember to genuflect next time I see him,” Adam said.
    â€œI’m president.”
    â€œIn that case, I better get some kneepads.”
    Tripp nodded, liking that line. “Bob’s going through a lot right now.”
    â€œBob’s an ass waffle.”
    â€œWell, yes. Do you know why I stay on as president?”
    â€œHelps you score chicks?”
    â€œYes, that. And because if I resign, Bob’s next in line.”
    â€œShiver.” Adam started to put down his beer. “I better go.”
    â€œHe’s out of work.”
    â€œWho?”
    â€œBob. Lost his job over a year ago.”
    â€œI’m sorry to hear that,” Adam said. “But that’s no excuse.”
    â€œI didn’t say it was. I just wanted you to know.”
    â€œGot it.”
    â€œSo,” Tripp Evans continued, “Bob has this headhunter helping him find a job—a big-time, very important headhunter.”
    Adam put down the beer. “And?”
    â€œSo this big-time headhunter is trying to find Bob a new job.”
    â€œSo you said.”
    â€œSo the headhunter’s name is Jim Hoch.”
    Adam stopped. “As in Jimmy Hoch’s father?”
    Tripp said nothing.
    â€œThat’s why he wants the kid on the team?”
    â€œWhat, 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. . . .”
    â€œYou know that from personal experience?”
    â€œGuilty. And sometimes they pick a kid because his daddy can help them get a job. Seems a better reason than most.”
    â€œMan, 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 . . .”
    â€œWe’d kill?”
    â€œLook 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