Hell or High Water: Deleted Scene

This scene brings up an important issue—several issues actually—involving Tai’s personal trauma surrounding marriage and commitment. It starts as a conversation between Trey and herself about their mutual friend Garrity (Trey’s former police partner, who is having his own challenges around commitment).

These issues get brought up in other scenes, though. And there’s some details in here that imply the book is going to swing in some new directions, and it’s not. So it had to go. But I was a little sad to see that happen.

♦ ♦ ♦

“You know Garrity’s seeing Heather again?” I said.

Trey looked startled. “He is?”

“Yes. Why do you think he’s in Alabama every free minute of his life, even his non-custody weekends?”

Trey frowned. “He didn’t tell me this.”

“He didn’t tell me either, I just noticed. I know he was a terrible husband to her.”

Trey nodded. “I cannot argue with that.”

“Cheating.”

“Yes.”

“Too much drinking.”

“Yes.”

“But now he’s got himself together and making good on a second chance. It’s an old old story. Did you know he gave me a copy of his wedding video?”

Trey nodded. “Yes.”

“He was trying to show me a side of you I didn’t know. You were his best man. And everybody was so happy in that video. Just incandescent. You too.”

He thought about that. “It was a good day.”

“And then their marriage went up in flames. And now they’re picking up the pieces, it seems, but that’s no guarantee it will be any better this time around. And then there’s Eric and Hannah—who I am just now learning about— and she’s practically got her hair still on fire from the wreckage of her marriage, but she’s blissfully putting all her chips on Eric.”

Trey didn’t say anything. He’d put his pencil and notebook down and was watching me.

I kept talking. “And Eric’s just coasting along on that stream on nonsense, merrily merrily life is but a dream. Meanwhile—meanwhile!—look at the heap of rubble that he and I come from. Mom cheating, Dad retreating. That’s my inheritance, a pack of lies and deceit and pain.”

Trey closed the notebook and folded his hands on top of it. “Tai—“

“And now Rico and Dante are engaged, and Dante’s family is so excited—like literally screaming and crying excited—but Rico’s family? They said congratulations and they so polite about offering to help, but those people are cold, Trey. Icebergs. He wasn’t the son they wanted, but they couldn’t admit that, but now he’s getting married, and they’ve decided to pretend like everything’s fine, cool cool cool, so proud.”

Trey looked confused. “Isn’t that good? That they’re being supportive now?”

“It’s better than continuing to freeze out their only child, sure. But they’re not acknowledging the pain they put him through. Not taking responsibility. Just bygones being bygone, and I hate it.” I flung a hand at him. “And then there’s your history.”

“What history?”

“You grew up without a father. That history. It formed you.”

He thought about that. “You’re right, of course. And it was difficult, for both my mother and me.” He paused, cocked his head. “I tried to find him once.”

“You did?”

“Yes. Once I started working with the APD. I suddenly had tools. I was curious. But I didn’t find him. His last known address was in Nevada, then nothing. I suspect that if I put my time and effort into working the NAMUS database, I’d find him. Or perhaps not. Perhaps he is unfindable. But I have other things more deserving of my time and effort.”

He said this looking me directly in the eye. I felt the warm rush of being in his attention that way. It was like being a flower in warm sunshine.

I smiled. “Yeah, that quarterly tax paperwork requires hella concentration.”

He gave me a look. “You know that’s not what I’m talking about. But I need to be very clear that the time and effort I invest in our relationship is not...it isn’t...” He thought some more. “I have no expectations. No, wait. That’s not true. I do. But none of them involve...”

He was getting frustrated, and I reached over and took his hand.

“I know what you’re saying. But I know you want more.”

“More?” He shook his head. “No. I want you. That’s all.”

He said it so simply, so easily, so sincerely. I felt my throat tighten, and I shook it off. If I let myself, I’d dissolve into sentimental goo, and we didn’t have time for that. We had work to do.

I perched myself on the edge of his desk. “You say that now. Wait until you see that mess I submitted for the quarterly report.”

He frowned. “It’s a fill-in-the-blank table. All you had to do was...” And then he shook his head. “It’s fine. Because no matter how badly you filled out the form—“

“Very badly.”

“—it has no bearing on us.” He leaned forward and looked deeply into my eyes “You still have to resubmit it, though. By close of day.”