Chapter 18: The Brass Pelican

The Brass Pelican had a back room with a long table, string lights, and a banner that said CONGRATS ON THE BIG DAY.

Fifteen people sat at the table with drinks, and Trent was at the head of it.

He saw me in the doorway and his whole face lit up.

I walked in with my chin up, and Drake, Dean, Finley and Gabe came in behind me in a line.

The talking died one voice at a time.

"Callie," Trent said, spreading his hands. "You came. Everybody, this is the girl I told you about."

A few people laughed.

Most of them didn't.

"I'm here," I said. "Hand me your phone."

"Not until I hear it. Say you're sorry, Callie. Say it nicely."

"Hand me your phone."

"Or what?"

"Or I tell the room what's on it."

His smile slipped, for half a second, and came back.

"Go ahead," he said. "Tell them about the garage."

"I'll tell them about all of it."

I turned to face the long table.

My heart was pounding, but my voice came out level.

"My name is Callie Hartman. I dated Trent for two years in college. On Monday he sent a photo of me to my stepfather's email.

"He took it through a window without my knowing."

Nobody spoke.

"He says he has more.

"He says he'll post them, unless I apologize in front of you for something I didn't do."

"That's not what I..." Trent started.

"So I'm asking all of you." I looked down the table, face by face. "Do you want to see them?"

Silence.

A woman near the end set her glass down.

The man beside the bride, who had Trent's jawline and the same watch, stood up.

"Trent," he said slowly. "What does she mean, more?"

"She's lying. She's a..."

"Give me the phone," the groom said.

"It's mine."

"Give it to me, or I walk out of my own rehearsal drinks."

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