“What are you talking about?”
“Nobody can know I came here. Put your phones and tablets in the fridge.”
“My phone’s on the kitchen table,” Summer said.
Connor went to the kitchen and the bedroom, collecting their tablets and phones.
Mark settled onto a chair, his heavy breathing returning to normal. Summer sat across from him on the couch. Connor returned from the kitchen and sat next to Summer.
“We’re good,” Connor said.
Mark nodded. “I’m worried that I’m being watched.”
“This isn’t new for you.”
“But I didn’t have video of Jacob Roth trying to bribe a congresswoman.”
“Nobody knows that you have the video.”
Mark deadpanned, “What if they do?”
“You mean, the government?” Summer asked.
Mark nodded.
“Don’t you think, if the government knew, they would’ve already arrested you and Zoe?” Connor asked.
Summer frowned at Connor. “Don’t say that.”
“I’m not being mean. I’m trying to reassure him.” Connor turned from Summer back to Mark. “Think about it. If they knew, wouldn’t they have already arrested you?”
“I guess so, but I still have a bad feeling about all this. What if they find out?” Mark asked.
“Is the camera and mike still in Roth’s office?” Connor asked.
Mark shook his head. “Zoe took ’em.”
“Then you have nothing to worry about.”
Mark removed a tiny flash drive from his pocket and placed it on the coffee table. “Could you hide this? If something happens to me, I don’t want this to be for nothing.”
“Nothing’s gonna happen to you,” Connor said.
“I’d feel better knowing a copy’s out there.”
“I have a safe in my closet.”
“No. Not here. We’re too connected.”
Summer said, “I could stash it at the—”
“No!” Mark shouted.
Summer flinched.
“Sorry, it’s better I don’t know.”
20
Naomi and Suffer the Consequences
Naomi and Alan sat on the couch, enjoying a movie. Alan’s phone chimed.
He grabbed it from the end table. “It’s a DC number.” He swiped right and said, “Hello.”
Naomi paused the movie and watched her husband’s face. He furrowed his brows, his face etched with worry. Naomi thought maybe his mother had died.
“There must be some mistake,” Alan said into the phone. “You do not have my permission to interrogate him.” Alan listened, then said, “I know he’s not a minor.” He listened again. “I’d rather you didn’t get the police involved.” Alan massaged the back of his neck. “We’ll be there in twenty minutes.” He disconnected the call.
“What is it?” Naomi asked.
“That was campus police. They’re saying that they caught Blake with drugs. We need to go sort this out. Do you think Silas might be able to help us again?”
Naomi shook her head, her face taut. “I told Silas we’d never ask him to bail us out again. I’m so sick of Blake’s bullshit. We should let him suffer the consequences of his actions.”
“Do you really want this in the news? It would kill your presidential campaign before it even started.”
Naomi shook her head and let out a breath. “I’ll call Silas, but I wouldn’t blame him if he stood on the sidelines this time.”
They changed into more professional attire, and their autonomous sedan drove them to Georgetown University. They lived six blocks from campus, so it was a short trip. The campus featured many gothic stone buildings erected in the 1800s and 1900s. The college was still bustling that Saturday night. Underaged students walked to and from house and dorm parties, whereas most upperclassmen were at off-campus bars and clubs.
The autonomous Toyota parked in front of a nondescript brick building. The parking lot held a few vehicles labeled Georgetown University Security. Naomi and Alan went inside. A portly middle-aged officer sat at the reception desk. They waved their hands over the chip reader and explained why they were there.
A few minutes later, they were led through security to a back room. Inside the windowless room, Blake sat with a female security officer.
The small woman stood from the table and said, “I’m Officer Trask.” They shook hands. “You must be Mr. and Mrs. Sutton.”
“Yes,” Alan said.
Naomi glared at her son. He gave her an arrogant nod in return. Blake was a stocky man with a good-size gut, covered by an oversize hoodie. His stubbly beard covered his chin, jawline, and part of his neck tattoo. He was twenty-two but looked thirty.
“Have a seat.” Officer Trask gestured to the square table.
They sat around the table, Naomi and Alan flanking Blake, with Officer Trask sitting opposite them all.
“Silas Gomez is supposed to meet us here,” Alan said.
“I don’t know anything about that,” Officer Trask said.
Naomi had left him a message, so she had no idea whether or not he’d show.
“This is the situation,” Trask continued. “We found large quantities of MDMA in your son’s dorm room. We believe he’s been selling drugs on campus for quite some time.”
Blake said, “I’m not—”
“Shut up,” Naomi said, giving her son a look that could kill.
Blake looked down. “They’re not mine.”
“Enough.”
“We also have four eyewitnesses who claim to have seen your son selling drugs on campus,” Trask said.
“If he’s guilty, what are the next steps?” Naomi asked.
“I call Metro Police, and they handle it. I only waited as a courtesy to you and your husband, and so you can contact your lawyer.”
A knock came at the door, then it opened. Georgetown President Silas Gomez stood in khakis and a button-down shirt. “Hello, Naomi. Alan.”
Naomi stood from the table and approached the middle-aged man. “Thank you so much for coming, Silas.”
“You’re welcome,” Silas replied, shaking her hand.
Alan also stood and greeted the college president.
Silas said, “Officer Trask, I’d like to speak with you alone for a moment.” Silas looked at Naomi. “We’ll be right back.”
The officer left the room with Silas.
As soon as they were alone, Naomi asked her son, “What the hell is wrong with you?”
“I didn’t do nothin’,” Blake said. “Campus security is fuckin’ racist.”
“Are the drugs yours?” Alan asked.
“Of course they are,” Naomi said.
Blake crossed his arms over his chest. “You really think, if I was white, I’d be here?”
“Yes, I do.”
“I’m sure campus security is biased against people of color,” Alan said. “Maybe they made a mistake.”
Naomi frowned at her husband. “Stop it, Alan.”
“Y’all mufuckers don’t know what it’s like,” Blake said, his jaw set tight.
“You’re right, Blake. I don’t know what it’s like to have everything given to me on a silver platter only to piss it all away.”
“Naomi, that’s not helpful,” Alan said.
“It’s true.” Naomi stared at her husband for a moment to cement that fact.
“Y’all don’t know shit,” Blake said. “I’m not white, and I’m not black. You have no fuckin’ idea the bullshit I go through every day.”
The door opened, and Officer Trask and Silas stepped inside.
Silas said, “Officer Trask will stay with Blake so we can talk.”
Silas led them to an empty office and shut the door behind them. Silas sat behind the desk, Naomi and Alan in the chairs opposite. Silas was tall and thin with wavy salt-and-pepper hair.
“I’m really sorry about this,” Naomi said.