Page 125 of Love is Angry

“Excuse me, asshole?” Rhue turns, fists already clenched. There’s not enough room in here for a brawl—they’ll break something if they start throwing punches, which will ruin the whole plan.

“I said you’re an idiot,” Steve repeats. “Every time you went off about your dad, to your dad, he’d scramble to cover his tracks. Laura never once said he was innocent—she demanded evidence. Evidence she was always planning to use exactly the way she’s using it now. You think this is a last-minute effort? Boy, you are dumb. Laura’s been working on these videos for months.”

Rhue stares at Laura, then at me. Shame creeps up my face, but I swallow it. He’s not entitled to know everything all the time.

“Did you know about this?” He asks.

“Yes,” I tell him. “That’s how everybody got involved. Laura had a plan, but she needed help. Since Lindsey rocks at computer stuff and Rita rocks the interpersonal stuff, they agreed to pitch in. Laura was about ready to give up the day that Julian threatened me—but after I left, Rita called the hotline and had a whole cryptic conversation with her.”

“We’ve been working on this for weeks,” Lindsey pipes up. “If you weren’t so insistent on confronting Laura when she’s in your dad’s house and being monitored, you’d probably have known a lot more a lot sooner.”

Rhue looks furious for a moment, then confused. “Okay, but wait—what’s the plan?”

“Hold on,” Laura says irritably. “Lindsey, chronology check.”

There’s a tense pause. “Time stamps look good. Chronology checks out.”

“Upload order?”

“Check. Solid narrative. Maximum impact.”

“Okay,” Laura breathes. “Steve—Cameron—Rhue—hold the door. I have to upload these one by one, and the first will be playing before the last one is finished. If he busts in here before I’m done, we’re toast.”

The men get in place. Rhue seeks out my eyes. I go to him, thinking one more body against the door can’t hurt. I kiss him lightly and cling to his hand. We’re about to do something very brave—or very stupid.

“And—send.” Laura clicks the button and swallows hard. She huffs out a breath; then, with shaking fingers, she starts uploading the others. Lindsey reaches overhead to turn on the TV, which is showing each of the campaign spots as they play.

Julian appears on the screen, dressed up and pompous. His theme music plays—but instead of his message of unity and personal responsibility, a woman’s shaking voice speaks over his image.

“Julian Echeveria raped me. I was working late one night. I stopped by the house to pick up some papers that I needed to look through for Roxanne. She was out of town, coming back in the morning. Julian––he’s an opportunist. He doesn’t plan these things. He just… he was there, and I couldn’t stop him.”

Julian’s voice from the original TV spot damns him.“I won’t be stopped. I’m here to win.”

“That’s some spicy editing,” I whisper, impressed. “Poor Sibel.”

We watch in somber silence as the other spots roll out, one after another. Everything we’ve uncovered about Julian plays out over his face, each confirmed by his recorded voice. The shattering glass and terrified screams at the end of Sibel’s confession makes me curl into Rhue, grateful that he’s still alive.

By the end of the second commercial, Julian Echeveria has lost his mind.

Chapter 54

Rhue

“What’s going on in there?!” Dad’s frantic, furious shout cuts through the door. Laura doesn’t even blink; she just keeps editing and uploading. “Open this door! Open it, right now!”

He slams his body weight against the door over and over, but the four of us refuse to budge. His frustrated roar trails out into the main office, clashing with the sounds of people rushing and shouting. Phones start ringing, a dozen of them, all at once.

Dad shouts at some people and bellows at some others. Something crashes into the wall, sending chips of plaster raining down over the desk. Laura calmly grabs a can of compressed air and sprays the plaster dust away, then returns to her task.

“You can’t do this to me! This is slander! Libel! Steve—Steve! I know you’re in there you son of a bitch. I pay your salary! Open this damn door!”

“He does, you know,” I say, glancing at Steve. “What convinced you to stab him in the back? Aren’t you worried about your job?”

Steve shrugs without moving his broad shoulders away from the door. “I was hired to be a bodyguard,” he says. “Killing kidsand covering up murders wasn’t in the job description. Figure if the old man’s gonna be changing the rules, I can too.”

I stare at him. “What the hell are you talking about, Steve?”

“Libel! Slander! I’ve called the police! You just threw away your future—all of you! I hope you’re proud of yourself, Laura! You’ve ruined yourself! Your brother! Your friends! You’re too weak to live with that—you’re too weak to live!”

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