by K. C. Burn
Behind him, Eddie let out an irritated bleat at the intrusion. Like Cliff gave a shit about interrupting Eddie’s dream interview and spoiling his fifteen minutes of fame. More like Cliff was interrupting Brett’s on-screen interview for a bed partner.
“I know your secret, asshole.”
Brett gestured to someone behind Cliff to cut before he plastered on a smile, one of his superfake ones. “Cliffy, we’re filming right now.” He enunciated his words carefully, like Cliff was the village idiot.
“I don’t give a fat flying fuck about your pissant little show.”
The faint lines of tension around Brett’s eyes were the only indication he was even remotely concerned about Cliff’s anger.
“Cliff, what are you doing?” The mayor sounded thoroughly annoyed, and Cliff kept his attention on Brett, or he’d flip the bird to the man who’d hired his boss.
“My pissant show is the best thing to happen to your shithole of a town in, oh, forever.”
Cliff needed some answers. That was the only reason he was able to hold on to the slippery reins of his temper. But if Brett didn’t stop acting like a spoiled brat, Cliff was perfectly happy to let Brett cough up the answers after hanging out in jail for several hours.
“That’s why you need to fake your hauntings? Because your show is so damn awesome? You’re a fucking shit, Brett. And a stupid one too.”
That wiped the smirk of Brett’s face, giving Cliff some bleak satisfaction.
“Fuck you. I’m a hell of a lot smarter than you.” Disdain dripped from Brett’s words, without a hint of his previous flirtatiousness, his expression cold.
Cliff rolled his eyes. “Please. An infant could have figured out the haunting of my mother’s house is a hoax. The basis of your show is as fake as your tan. Tell me, what would your adoring public think if I could prove you were a big fraud?”
The flicker in Brett’s eyes was one Cliff had seen before, when Cliff had confronted him about his infidelity. It wasn’t guilt, because Brett didn’t care enough about other people to feel guilty for his asshole behavior. No, it was more disgruntlement at having been caught out. No matter what Brett said from here on out, Cliff knew he was responsible.
Kristi moved in and dug her crimson-painted nails into Cliff’s bicep. “Stop this, Cliff. The relationship is over. Let it go. Resorting to slander will only bring lawyers into your breakup and won’t get you back in his bed.”
Disbelief momentarily replaced his anger, and he tossed an incredulous look at Kristi. “Are you fucking serious? I dumped him because he’s a cheating asshole, remember? Oh, and good thing I’m already out here, Kristi.”
Cliff let his gaze ice over, and Kristi paled and released her grip but held her ground.
“Just don’t hurt him. Please.”
That earned her a snort. He didn’t know why Kristi had tied herself to Brett, but Cliff felt sorry for her, because Brett only ever looked out for himself, and Kristi would figure that out eventually.
“Let me go, Cliff. I think I could make a good case for police brutality.” Brett tried to break Cliff’s grip on his shirt, but Cliff merely shook him in response.
“And I think I could make a good case that you were resisting arrest.”
“Arrest? For what?” Brett snarled.
“Murder.”
“What?” Brett wasn’t the only one who said that. The onlookers were a vague annoyance at the edges of Cliff’s attention.
“You killed him, didn’t you? What, he threatened to expose you?”
“I haven’t killed anyone. Who are you talking about?” Brett was starting to get angry.
“Andy Wilson.”
Brett paled. “Andy was murdered?” The last word came out as a little squeak, loud in the sudden silence that surrounded them.
“Don’t play the innocent, Brett. You’re not that good an actor.”
All the fight left Brett. “Cliffy, you can’t think—”
“Don’t call me that. Brett Cavanagh, you’re under arrest—”
“No, Cliff, please, don’t.”
Cliff glared at him but paused.
“I didn’t kill Andy. I swear. I paid him to add some…enhancements to your mother’s place.” There were a few gasps from their audience.
Good. Brett wasn’t going to deny it. “Yes. I already said that. And then you killed him to hide it.”
“Jesus, Cliff. Don’t you think I’ve seen just about every way people have tried to fake me out? They’re the ones who don’t make it on the show. If I wanted to, I could present the perfect fake haunting, and no one would know better. I wanted it to be discovered, just not quite yet. And not by you. I had no reason to kill Andy.”
Some of Cliff’s anger bled away as his resolve faltered. He’d been so sure that Brett had been up to no good. Underneath his rage that Brett had chosen Cliff’s mother to screw over had been an undeniable relief that he could accept Drew’s intimation that Andy had been murdered. Chalk it up to intuition or knowledge of the town or however Drew had figured out the truth. As much as Cliff wanted to be able to believe Drew, Brett made a lot of sense. The “haunting” had been amateur hour, big time.
Hell, what he’d found wasn’t even evidence of murder. It barely even made a credible motive and wasn’t proof of anything, especially since Andy’s death had been deemed accidental. What the hell was he thinking?
“You asshole.” Kristi flew in, hand raised, the slap across Brett’s face as loud as a gunshot. “If this gets out, the show will be finished.”
A smug smile stretched Brett’s lips, and with a sinking stomach, Cliff realized Brett was no longer worried about getting arrested.
“But, Kristi,” Brett simpered, “that’s what I want.”
Kristi’s look of shock had to mirror Cliff’s own. “Why? We’re poised to go international. You’ll be a household name worldwide.”
Brett scrunched up his nose. “With you at the helm, I suppose. Thought you could drag yourself into the stratosphere with me, did you?” His tone was so unbearably condescending, Cliff wanted to slap him, and Cliff didn’t even like Kristi.
“Well, yes.” Kristi sounded lost and hurt. Cliff hadn’t realized Kristi was going to learn the folly of trusting Brett right this very day.
“I don’t want to be a household name as part of the fucking spook brigade. That’s never going to A-list me.”
“It won’t matter.” Kristi was adamant. “The network will never air this segment.”
“They don’t have to air it. I’ll leak the fraud myself.” Brett laughed. “Don’t you just love social media?”
“How is sabotaging your show going to help you A-list yourself?” Cliff hadn’t meant to interject, but he couldn’t see how this fit into Brett’s patented blend of narcissism and selfishness.
Brett’s lip curled into a sneer. “I have a career-changing movie role lined up. Which I can’t take because I’m contracted with Phantoms for-fucking-ever. After this, the network will cut me loose.”
“Two years. You only had two more years on your contract,” Kristi said.
The crew around them had begun to mutter, and the few words Cliff caught weren’t exactly complimenting Brett. No more than he deserved.
Brett shrugged. “Two years is forever in this business.”
Cliff had to agree. It was probably harder every day for Brett to look young enough to still be considered a rising star.
None of that was important, at least as far as Cliff was concerned. “And you chose my mother’s house because…”
Brett turned that smug smile in his direction, and Cliff’s hand curled into a fist. What he wouldn’t give to break Brett’s nose like he’d done to Wyatt.
“Well, Cliffy…”
Cliff snarled, but that didn’t deter Brett any.
“Cliffy, killing your town’s reputation is only a bonus.”
The muscles in Cliff’s jaw hardened, and a tic in his temple throbbed in time with his heartbeat. “You did
this all because…because…I dumped you?”
Brett bared his teeth in a feral approximation of a grin. “No. I was going to do this anyway. I just didn’t know where. Breaking up with me deserved a little payback, so in a way, you chose the location of my swan song.”
Swan song. Pretentious asshole.
“Too bad I had to dick around with all these Eddie-the-medium interviews.” Brett glanced over Cliff’s shoulder, an overly exaggerated sympathetic look on his face. “Sorry, Eddie, honey. You’re pretty, but you’re shit on camera.”
How could Brett manage to make Cliff feel sympathy for yet another person he didn’t fucking like?
“If only your mother had consented to film an interview. Would have made this revenge ever so much sweeter.”
Anger shredded Cliff’s control, and he grabbed Brett by the throat, pushing him up against the side of the building.
This time, though, Scott leaped into the fray and wrenched him away. “Don’t do it. It’s not worth it.”
Cliff struggled a bit against Scott’s hold.
“What about Drew?”
The unexpected question broke through Cliff’s haze. “What?”
Scott got his face into Cliff’s so it was the only thing he saw. “Not that I would cry if you killed this ass, but I thought you wanted a relationship with Drew. And I like having you back in town. That will all go away if you don’t calm the fuck down.”
Cliff took a deep breath. Then another. Scott must have seen he’d pulled in the reins on his temper, and let him go.
Brett was glaring at him and rubbing his throat, but there wasn’t a single person who appeared to have any sympathy.
“Suing the shit out of you and this town for police brutality will be icing on the cake, Cliffy.” There was no hint of playfulness or flirting in Brett’s tone. “Think I’ll go for a walk and call my lawyer.”
Scott grabbed Cliff’s arm as Brett turned away.
Once, Cliff had been mesmerized by the sight of Brett sashaying away, but now he never wanted to see the man again.
The snarl on Kristi’s face was truly terrifying as she glared at the crew, with a little extra laser-death stare for Cliff, and he wasn’t ashamed to say he quailed, just a bit.
“If I see one word of this on social media, you’ll be fired, stranded in Florida, and I’ll make sure people will think the Black Death would be preferable to working with you. Got it?”
Her slender shoulders shook as she stalked toward the craft table. Probably she wouldn’t be the only one who needed some sugar therapy. The crew were clearly unwilling to brave the table while Kristi was still so angry, and Cliff didn’t blame them one bit. They drifted around the grounds, clumping together and whispering furiously. Eddie stalked away, angry spots of color on his cheeks, poor bastard.
The mayor had disappeared, probably to do damage control after the threat of lawsuits. Scott patted Cliff’s arm. “I think I better give the chief a heads-up. In private.”
Without a word, Cliff watched him head toward his patrol car, leaving Cliff mostly alone and feeling ostracized.
He had no idea what had happened, although he was almost certain he was getting fired. Hell, as soon as Kristi was done at the craft table, Cliff might as well look for a doughnut or twelve. Not like he’d have to worry about a fitness test after this debacle made it back to the ears of the chief. Unwillingly, his mind went back to his room at his mother’s place.
Fuck. He might find out sooner than he’d like if his mother had redecorated or not. How could he possibly have fucked up his job and his relationship in less than a twelve-hour time span?
Like he’d conjured her up, his mother appeared in front of him, although he’d been aware that she’d observed the shitstorm as it had unfolded. What he hadn’t expected was the undiluted concern in her eyes. “Are you hurt?”
Just like that, she was the mom who’d always loved him. Always. She didn’t care about the opinions of however many viewers Phantoms had; she didn’t care that Cliff had let his temper get the best of him. It was Cliff’s own hang-ups and unwillingness to deal with his parents’ divorce that had driven an imaginary wedge between them, and he could hardly believe it had taken a tragedy to get him to come home.
“Not physically, but yeah, I screwed up. Bad.” He was so fucking fired.
She reached up and touched his face. “That’s okay. You’ll fix it. You’re a good man, Northcliff.”
Funny, his name didn’t make him cringe as it usually did. Not that he was in a hurry to be known by that moniker. “I’m sorry about Brett.”
“Not your fault, honey. Besides, you’ve traded up.” There wasn’t a hint of disappointment or disapproval in her tone.
Remorse made Cliff’s heart ache. “I think I screwed that up too,” he whispered.
“You like Drew, don’t you?”
Like? Cliff had so much more than like for Drew. But he didn’t want to admit to his mother how thoroughly he’d fallen in love with a Drummond, because it would only make it that much more painful if he lost Drew. If he couldn’t fix it.
“You’ll do the right thing, Northcliff.” She squeezed his hand. “I’m going to head back to the house, see if I can stifle the gossip. If you need anything, let me know.”
“I will, Mom.”
The warmth in his tone made her blink, and she smiled at him, her eyes watery. True to her reserved nature, though, she didn’t let a tear fall. That didn’t bother him either. She didn’t have the same exuberance as his father and his father’s family, but he no longer doubted she loved him. He didn’t know why he ever had.
Scott strode up, biting his lip. Dread filled Cliff. He and Scott stared at each other while Cliff waited to hear what an asshole he was. What a fired asshole he was.
“The chief wants to see you first thing in the morning.”
Cliff’s shoulders sagged. Getting fired was the only reasonable outcome, but it hurt nonetheless. “It was nice working with you, Scott.”
Scott shook his head. “I hope it doesn’t come to that.”
Cliff didn’t want that either, but he didn’t hold out any hope.
* * * *
“I can’t believe I’m helping you do this,” Wyatt muttered, making Drew roll his eyes.
“You want me to be happy.”
Wyatt said something else that Drew couldn’t quite hear, but that was probably for the best, as it was undoubtedly derogatory.
Pushing through the foliage, Drew tried to make sure he didn’t end up looking like he’d run his hair through a blender.
“How is it you know exactly where we’re going?”
Drew shrugged as he continued to walk. They’d parked on an unpaved, overgrown access road that put them fairly close to where the Phantoms crew was supposed to be filming. The crew, with all their trucks and equipment, didn’t have the option of using this route, and Drew preferred it. He could probably get fairly close to Cliff before he had to explain to anyone what he was doing there, although the crew had seemed to think he and Cliff were cute. Did they know about Cliff’s previous relationship with the star of their show, though? And if they did, would they be rooting for Cliff and Brett to get back together?
Then again, maybe it was a moot point. Cliff might not want anything more to do with him.
“I just do.”
They continued to walk, Wyatt trailing him while letting out the occasional curse under his breath before Wyatt spoke again. “Hold the fuck up.” This time there was anger in his tone, and it made Drew obey. Not that he thought Wyatt would hurt him, but an angry Wyatt was one spoiling for a fight.
“What’s wrong?”
His brother’s cheeks were flushed red, and Drew knew it wasn’t from exertion. Both twins drank a lot more than they should, but they also kept themselves in shape. A brisk walk through humid brush wouldn’t make Wyatt sweat. While Drew and his brothers had vastly different complexions, Wyatt’s skin flushed in the same obvious way Drew’s did when he was an
gry.
“I knew there was something weird with this relationship of yours. I knew it.”
Was Drew having a delayed reaction to the head injury? Between the visions and Wyatt’s spectrum of emotions, he was so fucking confused.
“There’s nothing weird with my relationship.” Except that it was on the rocks.
“Oh, really? I knew things happened way too fast. No one moves in that quick, not when they’re supposedly strangers.”
“What are you talking about?”
“I’m going to string that pervert upside down by his balls and rip his pecker off.” Wyatt barreled through the foliage like a wild boar on a rampage.
Drew gasped, trying to suck in breath. He had no idea what bug had crawled into Wyatt’s boxers, but it had made him crazy. Even if Cliff weren’t on duty with a firearm at his side, Drew wasn’t about to let Wyatt’s fucked-up notions about gay men make him do something stupid that they’d all regret.
“Wyatt. Wyatt!” Drew called out and gave chase. Desperation gave him the burst of speed required, and he caught up to Wyatt just as they broke through the worst of the overgrowth near the outbuildings where the film crew was working.
“Don’t try to stop me, Drew. He took advantage of you.”
“I am going to try to stop you.” Drew made sure his grip on Wyatt’s arm was firm even though his brother could probably get out of it if he didn’t care about hurting Drew. “Cliff has never taken advantage of me, and I want to know what made you think that.”
“You know your way around the Somerset estate just a little too well. How could you know that, unless that perverted asshole had been fucking you in high school? You were just a kid! And the minute he returned, you just crawled back into his bed!”
Shock widened Drew’s eyes. Holy fuck, no wonder his brothers were always getting into fights, if this was the way their logic circuits hooked up information into conclusions. Drew grabbed Wyatt’s other arm, putting his body between his brother and the film site, and made Wyatt look at him right in the eyes.