Total pages in book: 86
Estimated words: 81597 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 408(@200wpm)___ 326(@250wpm)___ 272(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 81597 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 408(@200wpm)___ 326(@250wpm)___ 272(@300wpm)
In that moment I suddenly realized if it was down to just me to save Ryder, he’d be well and truly fucked. I didn’t have a clue what I was doing.
“Now.” Jake stood up from his chair and after swallowing the choking lump in my throat I followed. I stayed a couple of steps behind him because it turned out, faced with a potential confrontation, I was a giant pussy.
“Mr. Richardson?” Jake asked, even though he knew he had the right man.
“Yes,” he answered, raising a curious eyebrow.
“Excuse me, miss,” Jake addressed the waitress, sidestepping her to get closer to the table. “I need to talk with you about your son. He’s in trouble.”
A flash of anger widened Ryder’s dad’s eyes for just a second before he expertly composed himself. “Oh, of course. If you could excuse us for a moment,” he said, turning to the server. “Take a seat,” he added, returning his attention to Jake. With a polite smile, the waitress scurried off back to wherever she came from. Jake sat down and I pulled up a chair next to him, coughing to clear my throat.
“What the hell is this about?” Ryder’s father, who if I remembered correctly was called Malcolm, spat venomously the second we were alone.
“Ryder. He’s in trouble.”
“That boy is none of my concern anymore. Now if you’ll excuse me…”
“I’m afraid I can’t do that, you see I want to help him, and I think you can help me do that.”
“Well whoever told you that is wrong.”
“Nobody told me. I found out everything I need to know about you by myself.”
“Who the hell are you?” he snapped, anger causing his cheeks to flush.
“A friend of Ryder’s, and you will help me.”
“Is that some kind of threat?”
“No, sir. It’s a factual statement.”
“Look, I don’t know who you are or what you think I can do for you, but the kid’s a junkie. Prison was always on the cards for him.”
“I never mentioned anything about him being in prison.”
Whoa…
The way the blood drained from Malcolm’s face so abruptly, his skin turning to a shade of deathly grey in a nanosecond, was like something out of a cartoon.
“I suggest you leave now before I have you removed.”
“We both know you don’t have the power to do that. This is just a restaurant and you’re just a customer. So it was you who framed Ryder? Your own son? I’m also guessing it was you who tipped off the police too?”
“You have no idea how much shame that boy has caused me, and if that wasn’t enough I’ve lost my wife because of him. So go on, do your worst. Tell me what a bastard I am. Tell whoever the hell you want because whoever you are I will drag your name through the dirt faster than you can say shit.”
Personally, I was shitting myself, but the smirk on Jake’s face, which made him look altogether amused, calmed me a little. Whereas I would’ve run away crying like a little girl, Jake seemed to still know exactly what he was doing.
“Excuse me!” Malcolm called out, summoning a waiter with a snap of his fingers. “Could you ask these people to leave please? They’re bothering me.”
The waiter nodded, and began his approach towards the table. Then Jake reached into his jacket and pulled out the brown envelope from earlier. This was it. The big showdown, and fuck I was crapping myself.
“I don’t think you want to do that,” Jake said confidently, slapping the envelope down on the table right under Malcolm’s nose. Noticing the waiter coming towards him, Malcolm held up his forefinger, signaling him to retreat.
“What’s this?” Malcolm asked, sounding apprehensive for the first time since we got here.
“Why don’t you open it and see?” Jake encouraged, sitting coolly back in his chair.
I could literally see his chest rising and falling a little faster as he snuck his fingertip into the envelope seal. He pulled one photo just barely out, before shoving it straight back in and scanning his surroundings with his eyes to make sure no one else saw. “Where the fuck did you get these? I could have you jailed for invasion of my privacy by morning.”
“But you won’t. You see, Malcolm, I have contacts too, many of whom are in the media. My bet is, I could have these prints in the newspaper before you had time to get back to your car, let alone have me arrested. So I suppose now you just need to choose which option you’d prefer. Having me arrested and letting the world in on your dirty little secret, or getting Ryder out of prison and having those photos, the copies, and the original memory card handed over to you to do with as you wish?”
“And how do I know you won’t still have other copies and send them to print anyway?”