Page 101 of The Hardest Hit
“Don’t throw the pie,” said Jackson. “But she made a second set of photos. She told Evan that if he did not break up with you, she would release these.” He reached into his pocket and handed her another photo—it looked similar to the first, but this time the girl in the photo was Olivia.
“Oh!” exclaimed Olivia, startled. “Well, that’s not something you see every day.”
“No,” said Jackson. “I suppose not.”
“So essentially he’s being blackmailed into going along with blackmail because he doesn’t want to besmirch my good name?”
“Um, yes,” said Jackson. “That would be the basic gist.”
“Well, that’s very sweet of him, but I don’t think we can let him do that.”
“I can control the Eleanor half of the equation,” said Jackson. “But the Ralph Taggert side… I was hoping you could help with that.”
“Oh,” said Olivia. She thought about her mother and her sister and her brother. They had all worked out plans around the idea that they should get out and away from Ralph Taggert. Because Ralph Taggert was a powerful man, a bully, and a terrifying force. Who could win against someone like Ralph Taggert?
But what had Evan said?
You have all the power. You have what he wants and he has no leverage to make you do it.
Well, this time Pops had found the leverage to make her do what he wanted.
A man could move a mountain with the right leverage. The thing that people didn’t remember about leverage was that it could go both ways. Sometimes a mountain could move a man.
“Yes,” said Olivia, “I will.”
36
Evan – Checkboxes
“Too much partying?” asked Devonte, looming over him on Monday morning.
Evan looked up and tried to remember how to talk.
“Move your bag,” ordered Devonte. Evan did as he was told and Devonte sat down. “You said a week. It’s been a month. I was starting to get worried your family had kidnapped you or something.”
Evan laughed, then stopped, and shook his head.
“You doing OK, man?”
“No,” said Evan. “Not really.”
Devonte stared at him appraisingly. “But you’re going to go to work?”
Evan pulled himself together and tried to remember how to be a Deveraux. “What else would I do?” He managed to nail the Evan Deveraux tone just right: two parts condescension, one part arrogance.
“Sure,” said Devonte. “Because that’s what you do when shit goes in the shitter. Check the boxes and keep moving.”
Evan stared at him in frustration. “Can you not be sympathetic right now?” he asked.
“Sure,” said Devonte with a shrug. “We can just sit here.”
Evan’s shoulders sagged and he looked out the window into the dark of the tunnel. Olivia was there too, just like when he closed his eyes. Her green eyes big, confused, and hurt. At stop four they both got up to make room for Lucinda and her kids.
“See you tomorrow,” said Devonte as Evan got off. Evan almost turned but didn’t. He just nodded and kept moving.
Work was eight hours of torture. At the end, he took a cab home.
“Hello, Evan,” said Isabelle Elliot as he entered the building. She was wearing yoga pants that were more mesh and straps than fabric.
