Page 60 of Help Me Remember
Emmett raises his glass. “That’s the truth. Anyway, I wanted to ask if you’re going to the dinner next week?”
“The one where they name you Man of the Year?”
It’s the stupidest freaking thing this town does. I swear, we have awards for everything. Usually, the winner is the mayor or a town selectman because they make up the committee. This is the first time that they’ve picked someone outside their brotherhood.
Emmett Maxwell was named MOTY, as they call it, and we are all supposed to go. Not because he was the best choice, but because Isaac had pitched a king-sized fit a few years ago about how the same people are always nominated and win. After that fit, he got a nomination, didn’t win, and went crazy over it all over again. So, they nominated Emmett this time. We never thought he’d win, but here we are.
“If I must,” I reply.
“Can you bring Brielle with you?”
I turn to him. “What?”
“Brielle, the girl across the hallway that you spend most of your time with. Ring a bell?”
“I know who she is, jackass. I am asking why I’d bring her.”
Emmett grumbles. “She needs a ride, and I thought I could take her, but I have to be there hours in advance to go over the ceremony.”
Holden laughs. “Don’t you just walk up on stage and take the award?”
“Apparently,” Emmett draws out the word, “there is more than that. I need to also have my speech approved.” He turns to me. “Which you need to write.”
“I’m not writing it,” I say quickly.
I am broken. I am a prize-winning writer who can’t write.
“What do you mean? Who the hell else would write it?”
“Here’s an idea . . . you.”
He rolls his eyes. “I catch bad guys and protect old women crossing the street. I don’t write speeches.”
“There you go.” Holden slaps Emmett on the back. “You just wrote it. Although, you really aren’t doing a great job with the catching of bad guys since there’s a killer running around. Maybe omit that part.”
I snort a laugh and look down at my phone as it vibrates with a text.
Brielle: Can you do whatever super sleuthing you can on a Rachelle Turner?
Me: Why?
Brielle: Because I asked you to and you’re supposed to be helping, which you’re not at this moment.
I grin, imagining her face as she typed that.
Me: Is your laptop broken?
What Brielle doesn’t know is that I have remote access to her computer and already know she did a search about an hour ago.
Brielle: No, but I don’t even know where to start.
This is totally going to piss her off.
Me: At the beginning.
Brielle: You are such an ass.
Me: This is true. I’ll do some digging tonight.
