Chapter 17Cheney finished his beer, summoned a waitress to order three refills, and pounded his fists on the table. “Ugh, did you ever live your whole life knowing something wasn't right? Then you find out it's all one big lie!”
I emphatically agreed with him. “Not my whole life, but definitely a few of those years,” I said thinking about the last couple when Francesca was supposedly dead. Gabriel chimed in with similar woes, and we all commiserated for at least ten cathartic minutes. I didn't want to push Cheney, but the more he drank, the more he might reveal.
After the waitress dropped off the newest round and took away the rest, Cheney's gaze widened and he whispered, “I can trust you guys, right?”
I noticed Gabriel's previous glass had still been full when the waitress took it away
