by Cassia Leo
It didn’t take me very long to figure out that Sabrina had probably known about Kristin’s existence for years.
This was the only logical explanation for why Sabrina had asked me—not Gene—to get to know Kristin. I was certain she had already looked into Kristin’s background and found nothing she could use to justify denying her inheritance. She needed someone Kristin’s age who could get close enough to uncover the dark secrets that didn’t show up on a background check.
And I fell for it.
How could I not? It all seemed too easy.
It was a piece of cake finding someone to hack the database at Golde Property Management. Making it look like Kristin was past due on her rent was just as simple. Creating a chance encounter was a bit more difficult. It took two eviction notices to bump into Kristin and save her. I cringed at how sleazy it all felt in hindsight.
I gripped the steering wheel as I watched Sabrina from inside the Range Rover she had provided me, to maintain my façade of wealth. The muscles in my forearms tensed into thick tendrils of rage. Rage at Sabrina for being the type of person who could cheat someone like Kristin out of her rightful future. But mostly, rage at myself for taking on this fucked-up assignment in the first place.
I didn’t know what I had expected going into it, but I certainly had not expected to find a girl like Kristin, with the weight of the world on her shoulders and very little support to carry the load.
I sure as hell didn’t expect to fall so fucking hard for her.
As Stan Getz played a melancholy anthem to my thoughts in “Moonlight in Vermont,” I smiled as I recalled Kristin referring to my music as elevator music. The poor girl needed a serious jazz crash course if she thought bossa nova was Muzak. I hoped I would be the one to educate her.
I wanted to take her to Bill’s Place on 133rd to show her the true beauty of jazz culture. It always amazed me how many Bronx natives had never been to a historic jazz club like Bill’s. In the Bronx, we had so much history and good vibes at our fingertips, and still most of us just wanted to get wasted or stare at our phones on the weekend.
Most of all, I wanted to introduce Kristin to my siblings. As difficult as they could be, especially Alisha and Geneva, I knew they would like her. Kristin was humble and funny and gorgeous in an understated way. But the thing I loved the most about her was that she didn’t know she was any of those things.
Did I just admit to myself that I love Kristin?
Fuck.
I shook my head and turned down my music as I watched a server bring Sabrina the bill for their meal. Then, I seethed as I watched her hand over her credit card. If she was covering the entire bill, this had to be a business dinner, paid for with the company credit card.
What kind of business dinner would Sabrina be having with two recently unemployed bodyguards? I was about to find out.
I got out of the car and made my way to the black Mercedes parked about seventy yards down Bleecker Street. Then, I hid nearby as I watched Sabrina get into the car with the license plate CFI-2691. I took a few pictures of her walking toward the car, and a few more of her getting into the driver’s seat, with the license plate in frame.
It was one thing to attempt to steal hundreds of millions of dollars from an innocent girl who desperately needed it more than you. It was another thing entirely to attempt to murder that girl for your own selfish reasons.
I was not a professional investigator. Far from it, considering I fell for the subject of my first investigation. But as I watched Sabrina drive away, and I set off a safe distance behind her, I made a sacred vow to myself. Sabrina and her shadowy plans would soon be going down in a perfume-soaked ball of flames.
I couldn’t sleep.
I’d nodded off twice and woken up within minutes with my heart racing. Knowing that Sabrina was out there, scheming against Kristin, had me in a state of panic I had never experienced. Before I could talk some sense into myself, I made a phone call I should have made hours ago.
As I ended the call and set the phone back on my nightstand, I let out a deep sigh of relief and fell straight to sleep.
In the morning, I went for my usual run, but when I got to Orchard Beach to see the sunrise, it didn’t look as beautiful as it normally did. Not without Kristin.
Once I was showered and dressed in one of the dozen suits Sabrina had me fitted for a few weeks ago, I got in the Range Rover and drove around as I waited for the first text. Eighteen minutes later, text message number one came in from an unknown number.
* * *
Unknown:
She’s on the move.
* * *
Me:
On my way.
* * *
Unknown:
False alarm. Looks like a quick run to the corner store.
* * *
Me:
Don’t lose her.
* * *
Unknown:
Not a chance.
* * *
I arrived on Hughes Avenue within four minutes, just in time to see Kristin safely entering her apartment building. After parking the Range Rover less than a block away, I fired off a text as my heart rate began to slow.
* * *
Me:
I owe you one. See you tonight.
* * *
Turning down the radio, I turned on my call recorder app and made my first phone call. As the phone rang, I kept a close eye on Kristin’s building from the car, a constant reminder of how my assignment had changed objectives.
Sabrina answered the call after the second ring. “Good morning, Daniel,” she said. “Did your romantic beach weekend yield any interesting new leads?”
I took a deep breath to temper my rage. “New leads? Am I investigating a crime?”
Sabrina chuckled, and the sound raised the hairs on my neck. “You tell me. Has Kristin revealed anything dark and untoward during your cuddle sessions?”
I gripped the steering wheel to keep from punching the LCD screen where Sabrina’s name displayed on the caller ID. “You nearly blew it when you showed up at the beach.”
“I nearly blew it?” she replied. “The girl obviously only wants you for your money. Really, Daniel, I didn’t take you for such a fool.”
“I don’t have money,” I corrected her.
“Well, I know that, but Miss Teeny Weeny Bikini doesn’t know that. She thinks she’s hit the jackpot.”
I took a deep breath to calm myself. “You don’t know her. We should meet to discuss this.”
“I’m very busy, Daniel. If you have something to say, you’ll have to say it over the phone.”
Was she recording our conversation?
I shook my head, remembering I’d done nothing wrong. I wasn’t the one who had tried to run Kristin over to prevent her from claiming her inheritance.
“Actually,” I began, “all I’ve uncovered is that this girl seems pretty down on her luck. She had to quit school to take care of her mom, who can hardly walk. She’s struggling. She could really use a break.”
Sabrina scoffed at my assessment. “Is that why you’re getting so close to her?”
This woman had a lot of fucking nerve, accusing me of having ulterior motives, when everything I’d done with Kristin was at her request.
“I got close to Kristin because you asked me to. I asked her to spend the weekend with me because you asked me to. I did my job and I’m giving you my findings. Now I want out.”
She was silent for a long moment.
“You don’t know her, Sabrina,” I continued. “She has a good heart. She deserves her inheritance.”
She chuckled. “You slept with her.”
“What does that have to do with anything?”
“You’re thinking with your dick. Just like…” She paused to collect her thoughts. “Listen here, asshole. You don’t get to choose when the assignment ends. You’re done when I say you’re done.”
“That’s where you’re wrong. I’m not like Michael. I’m not addicted to m
oney. So I don’t have to sit here and listen to your bullshit. You can take your severance package and shove it up your twat. I’m done when I say I’m done.”
I ended the call as she was beginning to say something.
Either I made a smart decision to cut ties with her over the phone while recording the call, or it was very stupid of me to piss her off, knowing what she was capable of.
I stared at the burgundy door on the front of Kristin’s building. I couldn’t sit here all day long, watching that door. Keeping Kristin under my watchful eye would prove useless if something happened to her and I wasn’t within arm’s distance. Sitting in this car, I was basically powerless to help.
Before I did anything, I had one more call I needed to make. This time, the phone rang three times before someone picked up.
“Gruber speaking,” said the voice on the other end.
“Peter, it’s Daniel. I’m calling in that favor.”
After a brief conversation, I ended the call and opened up my text message app to begin typing. I deleted the message and rewrote it at least three times before I finally settled on the correct angle.
* * *
Me:
Good morning, beautiful. You still working at six tonight?
* * *
Kristin:
Good morning. Yep. Still slinging sandía tonight. Are you gonna drop by for a reunion with Roger?
* * *
Me:
How about we disappear in the Botanical Gardens for a bit? Grab some brunch. I’ll bring you back in time for your shift.
* * *
Kristin:
Ooh-la-la… So spur of the moment. I like it. What time?
* * *
We hashed out the details and I “arrived” to pick her up thirty minutes later. She stepped out of her apartment wearing a pair of cutoff jean shorts and a loose tank top tucked into her shorts. She took one look at my suit and turned on her heel to go back inside, emerging a few minutes later in the same tank top, black skinny jeans, heels, and a Yankees baseball cap.
“Beautiful,” I remarked, taking her hand to lead her down the stairs.
She grinned. “Thank you.”
“I was talking about the hat.”
She landed a hard shove to my shoulder, but I hardly budged. “You’re immovable,” she complained.
I brought the back of her hand to my lips and kissed it. “I have to be,” I said, making a vague reference to my job as a bodyguard before I could stop myself.
“Why do you have to be immovable? Afraid you’ll blow away?” she asked, cocking an eyebrow at me as we continued descending the stairs.
I searched my mind for a valid response, but continually came up short, so I did the only thing I could do. I changed the subject.
“How’s your mom doing?”
Her smile disappeared. “She’s okay. Just…I don’t know what I’m…”
I gave her a moment to finish her thought, but she never continued. “You can tell me, Kris,” I said as we reached the door leading out onto Hughes Avenue.
She stopped in front of the door and tilted her head as she looked up at me with a curious expression. “Have you heard from Jerry about my rent? I haven’t heard anything yet, and I’m getting a little worried about coming home to another eviction notice.”
Caught off guard for a moment, I finally recovered, placing a kiss on her forehead before I reached for the door. “Don’t worry about Jerry. It’s taken care of,” I said, as we stepped out onto the sidewalk, my eyes scanning every direction. “But I’ll give their office a call tomorrow and tell them to send you something official, to ease your mind.”
She looked taken aback as I pulled her in front of me with both my hands grabbing her arms, my eyes continually scanning. “What are you doing?”
I led her toward the car, keeping her covered as I opened the door for her. “Nothing. Just saw some shady characters out here earlier. Get in.”
She laughed as she sat in the passenger seat. “Yes, sir.”
A few minutes later, we arrived at the entrance to the New York Botanical Gardens. Kristin was absolutely euphoric with all the foliage, using her smartphone camera to take dozens of pictures as references for future artwork. I joked about us getting kicked out of the gardens for sexual harassment after Kristin took at least ten pictures of a flower’s reproductive organs.
Despite her obvious wonderment, and my ability to interject a joke here and there, she could see something was wrong.
“Why do you keep looking around like that? Are you being followed?” she asked very casually as we ascended the steps toward the entrance of the Enid A. Haupt Conservatory.
“Nope. Isn’t there a glass sculpture over by the other entrance?” I said, motioning to the conservatory.
The building was a large glass structure, meant to let in the light for the many plants housed inside. I didn’t come to the gardens often, but it was well known that the glass sculpture at the entrance to the conservatory changed periodically. Seeing as there was no sculpture near this set of doors, it had to be near one of the half-dozen or so other entrances. If Kristin suspected me of changing the subject, she didn’t let on, as she quickly set off in search of the sculpture.
We were still inside the conservatory, which was quiet for a tourist attraction, when Kristin received a phone call.
“Hello?” she answered. “Why?… What? What kind of violation?… Rodents? Are you serious?” She rolled her eyes and let out an exasperated sigh. “Fine. Do I need to come in to clean up, or something? I can still come in if you guys need help cleaning… Okay, all right. Well, thanks for letting me know.” She ended the call and stared at her phone for a few seconds, lost in her thoughts.
“What’s wrong?” I asked, knowing what the answer would be.
“There was a surprise inspection by the health department today and we were shut down for evidence of a rodent infestation, which is weird because our staff is super clean. Helen—one of the other waitresses—said they closed us down for three days until they can come back out and reinspect.” She shook her head. “I really needed those tips.”
My stomach ached with guilt as I realized I had just literally cost Kristin some of her much-needed income. I needed to find a way to tell her the truth about what Sabrina and I had been up to, but until I figured that out, I had to devise a way to keep her safe. The only way to keep her safe was to keep her by my side. Getting my buddy to call his sister at the health department and close down Cantina Joe’s for a few days would buy me some time. But I never considered how it would affect Kristin financially.
With her mom having just spent a few days in the hospital, Kristin probably expected the medical bills to begin rolling into her mailbox soon. I remember when I was driving my mom to her chemo and radiation appointments, I always made sure to check the mail and throw away any medical bills before she saw them. I didn’t want her to worry about money on top of contemplating her own mortality.
Right now, Kristin probably felt a desperate need to stockpile her tips and work as many hours as possible to make some extra cash. I may have shut down Cantina Joe’s because I was willing to do anything to protect Kristin, but her safety wasn’t the only part of her that needed protection. If I didn’t sack up and fess up to her soon, I was going to lose her in more ways than I cared to imagine.
“Hey,” I said, lifting her chin so I could look her in the eye. “I don’t want you to worry about whether or not you make enough tips or work enough hours. If you come up short, I’ll take care of it.” I grabbed her face to hold her head still as she tried to shake her head. “That’s not an offer, it’s a fact. I’m going to take care of you.”
She smiled as I reached up and turned her Yankees cap backward. “You only like me because of my taste in sports teams,” she teased.
I leaned forward and placed a soft kiss on her warm lips. “That’s just a bonus. I like you because you’re my Picasso,” I said, looking her in the eye. “You’re
priceless.”
Kristin smiled as her cheeks flushed pink and I pulled her into my arms so she couldn’t see the uncertainty in my eyes. I didn’t know how long I could keep her safe, but I knew I would stop at nothing to try. I had no fucking choice. I was recklessly in love with her.
Rich Asshole
I had never been so startled by a knock at the door in all my life.
As I made my way across the living room, I replayed in my mind the post-accident statement I’d given to the police less than a month ago. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t remember what I’d said to the officers on the scene.
Maybe the gaps in my memory were due to the mild concussion, or a severe case of shock. I could only imagine I was about as coherent as a drunken toddler when I gave that statement. However, I did remember the events leading up to the accident. Unfortunately, I remembered that very well.
* * *
I hated being a clock watcher. It wasn’t as if I wasn’t accustomed to sitting in cars waiting for people. Sitting around and waiting was ninety percent of my job. The reunion reception was supposed to end at ten p.m. But as the parking lot began to empty, and the clock crawled past midnight, I began to worry.
Exiting the BMW i8, I made sure to press the button on the key fob to activate the alarm, even though I knew the alarm was automatically activated as I walked away. It was not every day that I drove my boss around in his new $160,000 sports car. And, because I couldn’t resist, I glanced back at the car to make certain it was still in the parking space where I’d left it—and to admire it—before I entered the Vanderbilt Hall reception area.