Page 53 of Mercy (The Sins Trilogy 3)
“No. But Tolyan does.” She glances over at him. The man looks more like a serial killer than an office worker. His eyes are always cold, his smile always edged.
He nods at Elizabeth, then pulls out his phone. Thirty seconds later, I get a text with ten digits.
He smiles thinly. “Anything else you need help with?”
“No. Thank you, Tolyan.”
He returns to whatever he was doing on his computer, and Elizabeth returns to her office.
I text Harry. This is Ivy. Are you free for lunch today?
Should be. Where and when?
Noon. There’s a Mexican restaurant near the Pryce Family Foundation. Sanchez, I think.
I’m not going back to that Italian bistro no matter how much I used to love their food. Margot’s ruined it for me.
OK. See you then.
That was much easier than I thought. He must not have any classes today.
My morning is mainly taken up with status meetings and budget allocations. Even though Ryder is funding the music project, that doesn’t mean we’re free to spend all the money we want. It’s my duty to ensure every penny is spent wisely.
But it’s hard to focus. I’m dying to get to the truth of what Margot said yesterday. My gut says Harry has to know everything, and he’s going to be more impartial too. After all, he isn’t the one who pulled the trigger. If half the things Margot said are accurate, Tony undoubtedly blames himself for Katherine’s death. And his account is going to be mostly self-loathing and -blame.
Ten till noon, I leave the building with Bobbi.
“Mexican?” she says when we head to Sanchez.
“Yes. It’s tasty and filling and not too expensive. Gotta feed a man if you’re going to pump him for information.”
She glances over. “Who?”
“Harry.”
Bobbi snorts. “You wouldn’t have to feed him. He’ll tell you everything you want to know.”
“Why?”
“Because he’s young and likes to have fun, and Tony owns those clubs. Pissing him off means no more free passes to Z.”
Sometimes Bobbi can be so cynical. But if pleasing Tony through me is going to factor into Harry’s cooperation, fine.
Sanchez is a cheery place, with fun, lighthearted music and moderately priced lunch. The air sizzles with grilled meat and veggies. Ply him with food first, then bring it up when he’s relaxed and happy. Julie told me that’s what she always does when she has to give her brothers bad news.
I ask for a table for two; Bobbi gets her own table nearby. The smiling host hands me a menu and leaves.
Harry shows up soon after in a gray cotton UCLA shirt, faded jeans and beat-up sneakers. Nothing that says he’s from old money. But the casual and ordinary clothes don’t make him look like your everyday college kid, either. The easy amusement in his eyes and the surety in his posture that say everything’s exactly the way he wants in his world undermine his portrayal of himself as an average college student.
“Sorry, have you been waiting long?” he says, taking the seat opposite me. “I left early, but the traffic sucks.”
“I just got here.” I smile, partly because I don’t care if he’s a little late, and partly because he’s shooting a charming grin at me. “Traffic is always bad in this city.”
“Tell me about it. I just left my friend Nate, and he has to go down to Costa Mesa to meet someone. I don’t envy him that drive, there or back.” He flips through the menu. “You know what you want?”
I nod. I’m not interested in the food, and what I want isn’t something I can buy at Sanchez anyway.
The moment he closes the menu, our waiter shows up. It’s like Harry got the man’s attention through magic.
