His mom turns and goes into her bedroom, gesturing to Jessup to head back toward the kitchen, but Earl is waiting for him in the hallway. He wraps his hand around Jessup’s right biceps. There’s a bruise there from the football game that Jessup hadn’t been aware of.
“Keep things straight,” Earl says. His voice is a rough whisper, boot heels scuffed on cement, rats scuttling through drainpipes. “Everything just the way it happened, and when that nigger left the party, you didn’t see him again.”
Jessup’s angry. Earl using that word affirms everything Coach Diggins said. Particularly here, in this house. In Jessup’s house. He tries to match Earl’s volume, spits, “I don’t like this. Why is that cop here? And why is Brandon here?”
Earl is angry right back, but he keeps his voice low. “Brandon knows what really happened.”
Jessup goes from angry to livid. “What the hell? What’s wrong with you? Why the—”
“Shut up.” Earl narrows his eyes, squeezes tighter. “My brother and I are just trying to do right by you,” he says. “Don’t want the same thing happening to you as happened to Ricky. Nobody’s going to believe it was an accident. Brandon understands that, and he’s helping. Hawkins is one of us, but he doesn’t need to know the details. We’re keeping this between you, me, David John, and Brandon. You got that? Now shut up and play your part if you want any hope of stopping your life from going down the toilet.”
Jessup gives a sour nod. “Yes, sir.”
The other three men are deep in conversation when Jessup walks into the room. Earl sits down beside David John on the couch, Hawkins and Brandon still in the same places, the recliner and the love seat respectively. Jessup doesn’t want to sit next to Brandon, so he pulls over a kitchen chair.
Hawkins is in the middle of talking, and he has the floor: “—first thing in the morning. Can’t imagine they’re going to have too much trouble finding a friendly judge. I’m telling you, when the medical examiner called and said he thought it looked suspicious, Harris couldn’t have been happier than if somebody had given him a watermelon and bucket of fried chicken.”
It’s all Jessup can do not to wince. He can’t pretend he’s never heard that kind of talk before, but it’s not his world anymore. Hasn’t been his world in a long time, and all he can think of is Coach Diggins’s sad voice, how sure he was that the N-word was going to come tripping off Jessup’s tongue. And if he’s honest with himself—he doesn’t want to be honest with himself—he’s not sure that Diggins was wrong.
“What do you mean ‘suspicious’?” Jessup asks.
“Looks more like he got hit by a car, not that he was in one,” Hawkins says evenly. “Not much to go on, but they’re head-hunting. They’ll be coming for your truck in the morning. Better hope Corson never touched it. They find DNA from Corson on your truck and they’ll make your life a misery. You said he kicked out your taillight, Jessup, but if I were you, I’d make sure that truck is scrubbed down. Or better yet, disappeared.”
Earl leans forward, leaning on his knees. He’s wearing a pair of clean, pressed khakis and a white button-down dress shirt. His glasses are too big for his face, but they make him look earnest. He’s got his hair cut short, just a bit longer than a buzz cut, gray working its way up his sideburns. “We owe you one, Paul.”
“No kidding. But thought you’d want to get ahead of the curve on this.”
“Damn right,” Brandon says. “If we handle this right, it’s going to play great.”
Jessup can’t help himself. “What?”
“You’re the perfect martyr, Jessup. Young. Good-looking. You’re all-American. Good student, right?”
“Honor roll,” David John says proudly. He looks at Jessup with the same smile you give your son. Jessup doesn’t know where to look. “He wrestles and runs track, too. He’s a good kid.”
“Exactly.” Brandon Rogers talks with his hands, excited. He talks fast, too. Jessup understands why they love him on television. “I’ve already talked to my dad, and we’ve got lawyers lined up.”
“Good ones?” David John asks.
“The best. A couple of Jews from Harvard.” The four men laugh at that, but Brandon notices Jessup isn’t laughing. “Don’t worry,” he says to Jessup. “We’ve got this under control.”