Page 111 of Dial L for Lawyer
"I thought it was code. Like when Bennett says he's 'working from home' but he's really just playing hooky with Layla."
"I don't use code," Bennett protests, appearing behind us with Logan in tow. "And I can't believe you dragged us here under false pretenses."
"I didn't drag anyone," I point out. "Dom's the one who sent the group text saying 'mandatory bro bonding at the pool.'"
Logan adjusts his noise-canceling headphones around his neck. "I brought sunscreen and a towel. I thought we'd be swimming."
"You brought sunscreen for an indoor pool?"
"I don't know how public pools work." He looks vaguely ill. "Do you know how much urine is probably in there?"
"Please stop talking," Dominic says. "I'm already traumatized."
"You could leave," I suggest.
"And admit defeat? Never." He crosses his arms. "Besides, someone needs to make sure you bro up at some point this weekend. I’ve been riding solo far too much lately, and I expect at least an hour or two of shit-talking and grunting this weekend.”
"Watch your language. Michaela's only seven?—"
"Seven and three-quarters!" a voice pipes up, and suddenly Michaela's attached to my leg like a barnacle in a purple swimsuit. "Uncle Caleb! You came!"
"Told you I would, monster." I try to ruffle her hair, but it's pulled into a tight swim cap, so I just pat it awkwardly. "You remember Logan from the office?"
Logan waves. "Hi, Michaela."
She studies him with that intense Kingsley stare. "You're the nerdy one, right?"
Logan blinks. "Statistically, yes."
She turns to Dominic and Bennett. "Are any of you married?"
"Fucking hell," Dominic mutters.
"Those are bad words," Michaela informs him. "You owe me a dollar for each one."
"I don't?—"
"Those are the rules. Dad says so."
Dominic looks at me for help. I shrug. "Rules are rules."
He pulls out his wallet, muttering about extortion, and hands her a five. "Do you have change?"
"No. But I'm sure you'll need the credit." She tucks it into her swim cap with satisfaction.
"For the record," Bennett says, "I'm taken."
"By who?" Michaela demands.
"Layla. She's?—"
"Is she pretty?"
"Very."
"Is she nice?"
"Most of the time."
