He points at his chest in question. “Me?”
“Yes, you. Peeking at my underwear while I’m in the shower.”
“Speak for yourself. You were wearing my underwear without my permission.”
“Completely irrelevant to this conversation.”
“How?”
I take a moment to redirect the conversation. “Look, I totally understand why you might be mad about the whole walking in on you naked issue, but I promise you have nothing to be embarrassed about.”
“What are you talk—”
“It was a freak accident, won’t happen again.”
“If anyone should be embarrassed, it’s you.”
“Really?” I lift an eyebrow. “Then why are you sniffing my underwear?”
I know Kip didn’t actually hold my underwear to his nose and take a big whiff, but his lack of remorse for something he didn’t do is annoying. He stands tall, unflinching as he decides his next course of action. Walking around the counter and into the living room, he digs the pair of said underwear out of the bottom of the basket.
“If I’m going to be deemed a pervert, I might as well own it.”
Stalking towards me, he places an arm on one side of me, crowding my space. Then, like a strange figment of my imagination, he holds the material up to his face, and sniffs it. Nothing shocks me, but Kip sniffing my underwear is at the top of the list of things I never thought I would witness.
He hums, eyes closed as he concentrates. “Smells floral, like you’ve been sitting on a bed of…lavender? Lilac? Or is it fabric softener?”
“You’ve lost it,” I say, finding my voice.
He opens his eyes, looking up at me. “I’m only demonstrating what I did while you were in the shower.”
“Stop it right now.”
He drops the material on the counter, now placing both hands against the ledge as he corners me on the stool. A satisfied smirk graces his face, and I fail at staring anywhere but at his mouth. “You know what I think,” he says, voice rough.
“What?” My voice is small, shaky, completely out of my element with this side of Kip.
“You like the idea of me seeing your underwear, maybe even you in your underwear. And instead of trying to figure out why, you’re projecting all those confused feelings onto me.”
I didn’t think it was possible, but his words are even more shocking than him sniffing my underwear. “You wish.”
He cocks his head to the side. “Do I?”
We’re still watching each other, refusing to break when our lips meet. I don’t know who makes the move, or if it’s both of us. But he pulls away before we actually kiss. His condescending smirk tells me everything I need to know.
“And you call me shameless,” I say.
He shakes his head, reluctantly letting his smile remain in place. “Finish eating so we can go. We’re on a schedule today.”
I replay the argument in my head as I shovel the rest of my breakfast into my mouth. I expect the awkward to grow, manifest the silence until I admit every bad—or good, depending on how you look at it—thought I’ve had about him over the past few days. How I’ve replayed our kiss over and over and how I want to do it again. Worst of all, scariest of all, I’m scared to admit how I pretended I was with him last night instead of Peter.
But amazingly, Kip does a damn good job of letting everything slide back into place. Discreetly, I watch him as he moves through the apartment, putting everything in order, even putting away the clothes he folded—my underwear included—before we leave. Something manifests inside me, something addicting. Something I don’t want to stop, unsure I even could if I tried.
“CAN I BUY YOU a drink?”
Kaley tilts her head toward Senator Landry’s surprise appearance as he takes the seat near her. “I’ll just go ahead and take the cash.”
He smiles what looks like a real, genuine smile as he orders her a drink anyway. It’s the very same smile that convinced the majority of his favoring party in his direction, winning him the election and the popular vote by a landslide. Kaley did her research, but she knows what’s concealed underneath his squeaky clean behavior. Senator Landry is nothing but deceit, and he’s very, very good at hiding it.
“Don’t tell me Mr. Baranski isn’t holding up his end of the deal,” he smarts. “I know how much it bothers you to be left empty handed.”
Kaley hums around her fresh glass of wine, nodding at Mondo as he moves on to the next customer to let him know she’s okay with Landry’s presence. “Do you need something,” she asks, cutting to the point. She doesn’t find his small talk entertaining.
“Only checking in, making sure you’re withholding your end of the bargain.”
“A bargain implies that I have a choice in the matter.”
“Of course you do,” he says, moving a little closer, just close enough she can smell the alcohol on his breath. “You have a multitude of choices.”
“All in your favor.”
“In our favor, if everything works out.”
“One can only hope.”
“I suppose I should move along. I’d hate for your banker to realize you’ve been giving away what’s his.” He stands, but before retreating, he leans one step closer. “For free,” he whispers, a devilish smile playing on his lips. Satisfied with himself, he leaves.
Kaley’s hands shake as she forces down another swallow of wine, aching to appear unfazed by Landry. Other than her father, she can’t remember the last time she’s hated a man so much. They’re the type of men who only use their power to further their own agendas, leaving nothing but broken people in their wakes. The only silver lining Kaley holds on to is that all powerful men must die eventually.
The spot Landry vacated fills, and she’s never been happier to have Peter by her side.
“I’m sorry I’m late. I had some business to take care of,” he says, kissing her cheek.
“It’s okay.” She looks him over, noticing the tint of red around his eyes. Placing a hand against his cheek, she asks, “Are you feeling alright?”
He takes a healthy dose of the drink Mondo just poured for him, leaning slightly into Kaley’s hand as he swallows. “I have a client who’s intent on ruining his own case. He refuses to listen or keep his mouth shut to the press.” He takes another gulp of vodka.
Kaley crosses her legs, settling in to talk. “The Nathanial Lacassan case?”
He sucks on his front teeth, nodding. “For being the son of a clergyman, he is an entitled little shit.”
Kaley cocks her head in agreement. Peter is known for taking on high-profile cases, and Nathanial is about as high profile as it gets. He’s about to go on trial for second-degree murder of a masseuse. His defense is shaky, at best, and Nathanial is digging his own grave with every tweet, meme, and douchebag picture of him in a lambo. The public is much more lenient with those who show remorse. Kaley’s mood plummets at the thought of Peter defending him. Defense attorneys are especially slimy because they fight to keep power-hungry narcissists like Nathanial out of jail.
“Want to head to the room?” Peter says, breaking her from her thoughts.
“Sure.”
And just like that, Peter drops the conversation, settling between her legs the second they enter the hotel room. Kaley doesn’t even attempt to stop her thoughts when they turn to Kip, imaging it’s his lips and body on her instead of Peter’s. She keeps her eyes closed, not wanting to break the façade, fairly sure it’s the only way she manages to get through the night with her sanity.
“WHY ARE WE HERE?”
“To ride bikes.” Kip retrieves an old, battered bike from the bed of his truck, followed by mine.
“What dumpster did you steal that thing from?”
He smiles. “I actually stole it from a mail carrier years ago. It’s a beater, but a good tune-up goes a long way.” Pulling a bandana out of his pocket, he ties it around his forehead, looking up at me from beneath his lashes. “Are you going to stand the
re all day?”
“We’re going into that?” I say, pointing toward the opening of the bike trail.
“The park is packed on Sundays, and I know how much you hate being shown up by little kids. I figured this would be a good alternative.”
A map of the bike route is outlined on the trail sign. Its length and winding turns are ominously situated next to an animal crossing sign that depicts the possible run-in with a deer, snake, and/or squirrel.
“Do you happen to have a hatchet to protect us from rabid animals in your backpack?”
He laughs as he tightens the straps. “Don’t worry. Your piercing voice is enough to scare them away.”
I give him a dry look. “I’m not ready for this.”
He rolls his eyes. “You’ve been riding a bike to work, in the city, weaving in and out of traffic without dying all week. You’re ready.”
“I’ve had a few close calls,” I protest.
“And yet, you’re still alive.” When I make no move to mount my bike, he sighs. “This is a kiddie trail. It’s mostly flat and wide enough to not have to worry about mowing anyone down.”
Reluctantly, I swing my leg over the bike and kick the stand up. “If I die—”
“I’ll sleep peacefully knowing I will never hear your voice again.”
“Whatever. We both know you dream about me.”
“And in my dreams, I successfully hide your body.” He smiles and starts for the trailhead.
Deciding my chance of survival is better in numbers, I reluctantly follow. It’s noticeably cooler under the protection of the canopy of trees, and the air reeks of pine and dirt. Other than the sound of our tires on the ground and a few birds, it’s eerily quiet. Kip glances over his shoulder, giving me a quick smile. Goosebumps leap across my skin. I can’t tell if it’s because of how peaceful the trail is, or the way Kip’s smile reaches his ears, causing the outer corners of his eyes to crinkle just the slightest bit. A breeze kicks up, eliciting another round of bumps, and I surmise it’s definitely the nature.
We do end up passing a few hikers and fellow bikers, but for the majority of the ride the trail is empty. What Kip failed to mention is that the entire trail is on a slight incline. Kip makes a motion with his hand and points toward a hill in front of us. It doesn’t look incredibly steep, but I know from attempting the small inclines in the city, this hill is going to be harder than it looks. Kip picks up speed, using his body for momentum. I follow his lead, pushing against the pedals with more force.
“Don’t stop,” Kip calls from ahead.
I don’t even bother to look up as I push my legs to work against gravity, wheezing through my breaths. Before I realize it, I’m cresting the top and descending the opposite side, holding on for dear life as the pedals spin under my feet. I start to lose control of the bike, my front wheel shaking back and forth. I’m going too fast and Kip, who’s already stopped at the bottom, yells for me to slow down.
It’s a common blunder of mine to not think things through in times of panic. Pulling the brakes while descending at a forty-five-degree angle isn’t one of my wisest decisions. But I only realize this after the bike catapults me over the handlebars and right into Kip. He circles an arm around my waste, catching me mid flight, and it throws us both to the ground as my bike flips over next to us.
I don’t want to move, moaning when Kip pulls me up with him.
“That was fucking terrifying.”
“In a good way,” Kip says.
My mouth opens, ready to dish a sarcastic reply, but I decide against it. “It kind of was.”
If a smile could hurt someone, it would be Kip’s.
“Are you alright?” he asks, giving me a quick glance over.
“Fine.”
We stand, dusting the dirt from ourselves. The trail ends on a lookout point on top of the hill. It takes a few blinks for my eyes to adjust to the sight, but after they do, I’m in complete awe. We’ve emerged onto a small plateau overlooking a sublet from the river.
“Worth risking your life for a view like this?”
“Absolutely. I had no idea this was so close to the city.”
I’ve traveled the world, but there’s nothing like discovering something amazing in your own backyard. We walk closer to the edge, but the minimal guardrail doesn’t offer enough security for us to get too close. There’s an overturned tree people use as seating, and I sit as Kip retrieves two water bottles from his backpack and hands me one.
“Thanks.”
We both let our heart rates settle from the crash, enjoying the view. There’s something to be said about a view like this. And yet, nothing at all.
Kip shifts his weight, situating himself against a fallen branch and using it as a makeshift backrest. A fine sheen of sweat covers his skin, making the cotton of his shirt cling to his biceps and chest. I have a vivid flash of Peter on top of me a few nights ago and how I used the image of Kip to get myself off. It was the first time I’d come having sex with Peter in a long time. I bet having the real thing would be infinitely better.
I can feel the blood rising in my cheeks and I force myself to redirect my thoughts. “Is it weird? Being out in the world after all this time?”
He nods once, quickly. “It’s an adjustment. I wasn’t very up-to-date on technological advancements as it was, but damn, things can change in four years.” After a moment he realizes I’m still watching him, waiting for him to continue. “What? Were you looking for me to say something else?”
“There’s not a right or wrong answer. I just want to hear something real, not something you’ve recited to Lilly a million times.”
“I guess…” He takes a moment to gather his thoughts, twiddling a few straws of pine between his fingers. “I guess I miss feeling like I have a home.”
“That is…the saddest thing I’ve heard all day.”
He laughs, squinting against the sun as he looks at me. “You wanted honesty.”
“You just told me that you don’t feel comfortable anywhere you are. That’s really fucking sad, Kip.”
“Fine,” he says, turning more towards me on the log. “Tell me something real about you.”
I hold my arms out to my sides. “Ask me anything.”
“Why did you ditch Lilly after the trial?”
My eyebrows shoot up, surprised by how quick his response was. “Been waiting for the right time to ask that question, haven’t you?”
“It’s a fair question.”
Fair is subjective.
The trial revealed things about my father I was unprepared for. At first I was confused, trying to fill in the blanks. Between the media and Lilly’s account of things, I wanted to hear it from his point of view. How did I not know my dad was a drug trafficker? How did I not know he’s killed people?
…even my daughter has conditions.
The audio recording played during the trial revealed everything. My father hired a chop-shop to transport copious amounts of cocaine and weapons across state lines. Unbeknownst to him, he had accidentally hired my best friend, Lilly, to be the one to do it. Neither Lilly nor Kip were aware of the agreement between Taylor and my father. And they had no idea they were smack-dab in the middle of a federal investigation against my father.
. “I was angry for a long time.”
“At Lilly?” There’s no judgment or accusation in his question, only desire to understand.
Kip and Lilly ended up both taking plea deals, but Kip still had to testify. And at the time, it kind of pissed me off that she still showed up when they didn’t need her. She was so stuck in life, lost, unsure of what she was going to do. All it did was remind me of myself.
It gives me courage to answer honestly. “At life, I think.”
He nods in understanding. “I think we all were.”
I recall Kip’s passive demeanor as he took the stand as the trial progressed. I remember, even then, he didn’t look mad that he was going to prison for something he didn’t intentionally play a pa
rt in. If anyone had a right to be angry, it was him. And yet, he had this defiant look of indifference, as if he refused to let the circumstance win.
“How’d you find peace with everything?”
It takes him a second, but he eventually tears his gaze from mine. “I don’t know if I have.”
We fall into silence, letting the wind fill the lull in conversation. It’s late in the day and the sun is already hanging low in the sky, maybe an hour away from turning the clouds pink. There’s more wind up here, creating goose bumps along my bare shoulders, but the log we’re sitting on is still warm from basking in the sun all day.
Up here, time seems to slow down. There’s nowhere to be, nothing to see except for how beautiful the world is. Everything is so simple when you’re able to look down at the world. It’s almost like the fake, pretend world is down below. Down there, we’re playing life. But up here?
This is real.
I look to Kip and am surprised to find him looking at me.
“Are you okay?” he asks, real concern reflecting in his eyes.
“Yeah. Why?”
“This is the longest you’ve ever gone without talking.” He doesn’t smile until I start laughing. “I’m serious. You looked really sad for a second.”
“I love it up here,” I say, breathing deep to fill my lungs with as much of the air as possible. Maybe if I breathe enough of it, I’ll be light enough to fly.
“You do?”
I nod. “Yeah.”
“This is what I want in life,” he says. “Freedom to enjoy the things I love. Riding a bike, reading a book, eating a medium-rare steak. Life shouldn’t be so complicated.”
“How old were you when your mom left? Lilly never really talked about her.” I didn’t know I wanted to ask that question until the words had already left my mouth. Kip has so many moving parts to him, and I realize I want to understand how he ticks.
“That’s because Lilly never really knew her. Our mom quit being present years before she left.”
“When did she stop?”
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