Free A Way to Get By by T. Torrest Page B

Brummel. Jesus, Mary, and Joseph.
       I hopped up the front steps and held out my hand to James. “How goes it, Jimmy?”
       James stared at my outstretched arm as if he didn’t know what to do with it. But soon enough, he extended his palm and we shook hands. Brummel must’ve treated his employee like a disease instead of a person, because I’d never met a guy so confused over a simple handshake.
       He led me into the house. The foyer was so expansive, even my breathing echoed. I wanted to give a whistle and comment on it, but I was under the impression James had already pegged me as trash. I wasn’t going to do anything to confirm it.
       We passed about ten humongous rooms before reaching a large, oak, double door. James gave a quick knock and Brummel’s nasally voice called out, “Come in!”
       James swept the door open and held out his hand toward the room. “Mr. Edwards has arrived, Mr. Brummel. Can I get either of you gentlemen anything? A beverage?”
       I sure as hell could’ve gone for a nice shot of booze right about then. But Brummel waved him off. “No. Thank you, James.”
       As the doors closed behind me, Brummel moved out from behind his desk. “Edwards! It’s been too long.”
       He held out his hand, so I shook it, even though I was feeling pretty disgusted about it. “How have you been, Beau?”
       Brummel lowered an eyebrow and swept an arm around the room. “Very well, as you can see. And you?”
       Two sentences in and I was already sick of his pretentious small talk. “Why don’t we skip the bullshit and just get down to the reason I’m here, okay?”
       Brummel was amused. He threw back his head and laughed like I was the funniest person he ever met in his privileged, pompous life. “You’re right, Edwards. You were never one for bullshit, so yes. Let’s just get right down to it.”
       He held out a hand, directing me to sit in one of the green, high-back leather chairs that framed his desk. As I sat, he asked, “Would you care for a drink? I sent James away because I have a full bar right here in the room. Despite what people think, I haven’t completely forgotten how to do things for myself.”
       I still wanted that whiskey, but I wasn’t going to give this asshole the chance to show off his fancy Bat-bar which must’ve been hidden behind a panel or something. I didn’t need anything from him except the one thing I came for. “No, thank you.”
       He moved behind his desk and picked the phone off its cradle. “Some food? I can ring the kitchen and have something sent right up. Whatever you want.”
       “Hey, cut the crap, alright, Brummel?”
       He bypassed the laugh that time and instead settled himself in the green leather chair behind his desk. He placed his palms down on the blotter and met my eyes, a knowing grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. I already wanted to knock this conceited jerk out.
       “So, why are you here? Hmmm. Why are you here in my home tonight?” he asked, tapping his fingertips on his desk.
       “I’m starting to wonder that myself. Maybe you can enlighten me.”
       Brummel sat back in his chair with a creak and folded his hands across his stomach. He’d lost weight since I’d seen him last. The guy used to be a pasty little peach-fuzzed putz back in the day but his body had thinned out considerably over the years. So had his hair.
       He was still a putz, however.
       “Let’s just say your ex-wife is having a little trouble moving on. She and I have been talking, you know. Called me the week after you moved out. Anyway, it seems she can’t come up with the money needed to file for the dissolution of your marriage. I was hoping you and I could help her—and, actually—help each other out.”
       Asshole. “You sure work quick, Brummel. The ink hasn’t even dried on our divorce papers and already you’re sticking your nose in it. Why the hell would you think I’d want