The Red Files

by Lee Winter

  She opened the curtains and then sat on the bed to review her day as her tired eyes focused on the enticing gardens below.

  It was hypnotic. Giving herself a shake, she sleepily headed for the shower. Her head leaned against the tiled wall, water running down her back, as her brain helpfully supplied her with two important facts.

  One, Catherine Ayers, the closed-off, famously private journalist, was letting her stay in her house.

  Two, Catherine Ayers, the alluring woman, was probably naked as a jaybird in the shower herself right now.

  Lauren groaned and gently thumped her head against the wall as she willed that scorching image from her mind.

  * * *

  Dawn had barely broken when Lauren’s eyes fluttered open. It took a moment to place where she was, and then her heart did a double flip with a half pike. She stared incredulously at the ceiling fan. She’d woken up in Catherine Ayers’s home.

  Her empty stomach grumbled. She rose, quickly used the en suite, and then rummaged through her bag. She found only a lonely, sad mint, which she unwrapped, popped in her mouth, and chewed hungrily while she hunted for a granola bar she thought she’d packed. She came up empty.

  After a few minutes, she gave up her search and padded through the hall, ears straining to hear if she’d woken her host.

  The house was silent. She could hear a ticking of a clock from somewhere and the chirp of birds outside, but nothing else.

  She headed toward the stairs intent on finding the kitchen when she came to an abrupt halt. Below her in the low light she could make out a stunning lounge and entertaining area, with wide glass windows and white sofas on a polished timber floor.

  But that’s not what had caught her eye. All the way down the cream stairway wall were photos. She realized she was staring at a gallery of Ayers’s life. She edged closer.

  Polished black frames held several photos of a well-dressed older couple, jewels glittering on them. She could see the resemblance to Ayers in the aristocratic angle with which they held their heads. Two little girls were at their side in the pictures. The smaller one smiled dutifully, a fixed vacant expression. The taller girl, with long auburn hair and intelligent, sharp eyes, didn’t bother to hide her boredom.

  Lauren smirked. No doubts as to who was who.

  She took a step lower and saw the same two girls, older now, on horses, with matching equestrian outfits and silly grins. Ayers’s hair was in a long braid, and she sat easily in the saddle patting her mount.

  Two steps down, and she was looking at a wedding. The younger Ayers girl was being married to a tall, red-headed man with freckles and a pleasant face. He had pale skin, a weak chin, and reeked of old money. He looked a little overwhelmed. Ayers’s parents watched the happy couple approvingly in the background.

  Catherine, who looked to be in her mid-twenties, was off to one side in a bridesmaid’s outfit of shiny green taffeta with a plunging neckline. Somehow she managed to make the hideous garment work, although the faintly incredulous expression on her face said it all. The round, homely creature beside her—a cousin, perhaps, given she shared the same eyes and chin—had a lot less luck with pulling off the fashion travesty. A green toffee apple came to mind.

  Three steps lower, and the couple now had a baby; another two steps saw the photogenic teenage boy at high school age, striking a superhero pose and laughing.

  One photo later, Lauren stopped cold and stared at it in shock.

  She heard a movement from below and pulled her eyes away to see Ayers making her way up to her, hair slicked back, with a white towel casually slung over her shoulder. She wore a one-piece black swimsuit and an interested expression as she scrutinized Lauren’s outfit.

  Lauren followed her wandering eyes. Oh right. Still in her boxers and tank top. Not that Ayers could get too obnoxious about the liberal amount of skin on display. Lauren’s gaze shifted to long, pale, toned, bare legs, and the high-cut, damp swimsuit.

  “Pool?” She reddened. Of course the woman had been swimming. Idiot.

  “What gave it away?” Ayers retorted as she joined her on the same step. “But if you’re asking because you want a swim yourself, I’ll show you where the lap pool is after I get dressed.”

  “Nnngh,” Lauren replied helplessly as she took in a close-up of Ayers in little more than thin black nylon. She could see the swell of her breasts and the muscle definition in shoulders and arms well-used to sliding through water.

  Goddammit. She spun back to examine the photo that had captured her attention before Ayers’s arrival, hoping to prevent her fritzing brain’s complete meltdown.

  “Ah,” Ayers said as she studied the photo in front of Lauren, leaning just over her shoulder. Her cheek was almost against her ear. The hairs on the back of Lauren’s neck shot to attention and practically saluted.

  “I see you’ve met my nephew. Again,” she purred.

  Lauren’s mouth fell open. She turned.

  “Wait, what? You let me believe…no, you let everyone believe you were dating him. But he’s…Catherine, your nephew is Tad.”

  “Yes, Thadeus is my nephew.”

  “Did you enjoy playing me for a fool?”

  “Yes,” Ayers said with an amused look. “Well, at first.” She met Lauren’s eyes challengingly.

  “To think I actually agonized over whether to tell you about him hitting on Josh. I lost sleep over that!”

  “Well I didn’t know you were giving yourself an ulcer about it. How could I?” Ayers countered.

  “And if you had known, would you have told me then?” At her silence, Lauren shook her head in disappointment. “That’s what I thought.”

  “No,” Ayers said. She crossed her arms. “If people jumped to that conclusion, that’s hardly my fault.”

  “Oh please,” Lauren snapped. “You knew exactly what you were doing. Just tell me why?”

  “What possible difference would it make to your life knowing that?”

  “It’s about trust,” Lauren said angrily.

  “I’ve never lied to you, Lauren.”

  “Semantics, and you know it.”

  “No, there is a distinction,” Ayers said defensively. “Thadeus has been my date to dozens of events, and not one person asked me who he was in my life. Everyone just presumed I had to be sleeping with him. How pathetic is that?”

  She pinned Lauren with a quelling look. “Everyone’s so fixated on the body beautiful in this shallow little town that it didn’t enter a single person’s mind that I wasn’t taking him to my bed. And before you get too indignant, that includes you, too.”

  Lauren wished she could deny it. Her jaw worked in irritation.

  Ayers’s eyes lit in triumph. “See what I mean about assuming?” she drawled.

  Lauren was torn between anger and disappointment that Ayers was as much a fraud as anyone else in this plastic town. She remembered all the times her stomach had knotted over the thought of Josh and Tad hooking up behind Ayers’s back, and it made her furious all over again.

  “Does Tad’s family know he’s gay and you trot him out at events like some prized pony?” Lauren sniped. It was beneath her, some part of her brain noted, but she was too annoyed to care.

  Ayers’s eyes narrowed dangerously. “How is that any of your business?”

  “He’s dating one of my best friends. I’d like to know how potholed the road is ahead for him. Josh is an artistic soul—he gives his heart too easily. And to people who don’t deserve him. I don’t want him being anyone’s dirty little secret.”

  Ayers rolled her eyes. “If you must know, I’m the only one aware of his preferences in our family. And he doesn’t know that I know. But despite the secrecy, I believe he’d never treat Joshua with disrespect.

  “As for his escort duties, it’s entirely his choice. When he turned up on my doorstep with his bags, only then did anyone in our family realize how serious he was about becoming an actor. His mother—my sister—was horrified. I agreed to take him in and
keep an eye on him and introduce him to entertainment industry contacts at various events until he found his feet and got his own place. And on the morning we left for Nevada, he decided to move out. Apparently I was cramping his style, among other reasons. But the straw that broke the camel’s back was Joshua refusing to date Tad because he lived with me.”

  Lauren felt a flash of relief that her friend had acted honorably. She owed him an apology.

  “Okay,” Lauren said. “But why not tell people he was your nephew? Plenty of people take relatives as plus ones to events.”

  Ayers shifted uncomfortably. “He had an image he wished to protect. Or invent, I suppose.”

  “Well that explains the games you play with strangers, but why pretend to people closer to home? Those who work with you and respect you? Like me or, say, Mariella. She deals with a ton of closeted actors. It’s not like we couldn’t keep a secret about Tad. He’s not even in a small minority in Hollywood.

  “Or is it that you think we wouldn’t keep it a secret?” Lauren stared at her. “Come on, you can’t seriously think I’d out Tad and ruin his acting chances or something?”

  “Of course not.”

  “Then why? I can’t think of a single reason for your fake dating game that makes any sense.”

  Ayers regarded her, fingers gripping tighter on her towel. Her icy eyes, usually so mocking and confident, seemed conflicted.

  “I’m sorry. I won’t discuss it.”

  Lauren felt the words bite into her. Of course it would be too much for Ayers to explain anything. Now she knew exactly where she stood on Ayers’ friendship scale. Sub-basement level.

  “You’re right,” she said tightly, “it’s absolutely none of my business. Don’t worry, I’ll get out of your way.” She took a step back up the stairs.

  “Lauren.”

  She glanced down to find Ayers gripping her arm. She lifted her head in confusion.

  An index finger slowly stroked up Lauren’s bicep and then curled behind her neck. Ayers tugged Lauren’s head to hers and took a step closer so their lips were millimetres from touching.

  “What are you doing?” Lauren asked.

  “Explaining.” Ayers closed the sliver of space between them and dusted her lips across Lauren’s as gently as a breeze.

  Arousal flooded Lauren, and she leaned forward, kissed her hungrily, and opened her mouth under teasing lips. After a moment’s hesitation, their tongues met and tangled.

  Lauren’s hands slid to Ayers’s firm ass, squeezed it, and then found the smooth bare skin at the small of her back and stroked. The tips of Lauren’s fingers slid under the nylon of the swimsuit with each downward stroke and elicited a gasp against her lips.

  Ayers rolled her hips and pinned her hard against the wall. Lauren’s knees almost buckled at the sensation.

  Jesus.

  Ayers suddenly stepped back. Those watchful eyes were dark and half-lidded. Her lips were swollen. She exhaled and licked them.

  “That’s why,” she breathed, staring hard at Lauren.

  “You…you’re?” Lauren swallowed. “Oh!”

  Ayers dropped her eyes, but not before Lauren saw a flash of something dark in her intense gaze. “And now you know,” she said coolly. She turned. “Help yourself to the kitchen. I need to get changed.”

  “But,” Lauren said, watching her go. “Wait!”

  Lauren stared after her, lips on fire, and her nipples rock hard. She traced her fingertips across her mouth to assure herself that the impossible had indeed happened.

  Catherine Ayers had just kissed her as if she knew her way around another woman’s lips. And she’d admitted that was pretty much the status quo for her.

  Dazed, Lauren steered her wobbly legs toward the kitchen.

  CHAPTER 11

  The Red Files

  For evil geniuses, Duppy and Snakepit looked remarkably like a pair of twenty-year-olds who’d been hibernating in their parents’ basement.

  Lauren stared at one, then the other, trying to work out who’d had his first ever date under Josh’s tutelage. She gave up. They both seemed too abrasive to actually be able to converse with women. Although Duppy had no problem running his eyes over Ayers’s jean-clad ass, much to Lauren’s annoyance. She ground her teeth and shot him a warning look. He ignored her.

  Dipshit.

  Ayers sat gracefully on the striped sofa in Josh’s apartment and looked remarkably well suited to the artistic décor, which burst with colorful material swatches of every texture, sketches of Josh’s handbag designs, and framed iconic fashion magazine covers. She moved one of his more eclectic cushions, replete with gold tassels, and crossed her legs elegantly.

  Lauren sat opposite in a hand-painted armchair that looked like a mad art student had created its abstract design on a dare. She admired Ayers’s curves in pale worn jeans and starched white linen and remembered only too well how that body had felt pressed against hers.

  Breakfast earlier had been a strange affair, involving granola, fruit, and coffee, and classical music which was up just that little bit too loud to comfortably hold a conversation. Instead they’d settled for a lot of silent chewing and furtive, smoldering glances that ended the moment the other’s gaze was caught.

  During the Saab ride over, with more conversation-killing, high-decibel classics, Lauren wondered who else knew Catherine’s secret. Who had been allowed into the inner sanctum? Tad? Her parents?

  * * *

  “First, we’d like you to crack this laptop so we can see what’s rattling around in the drive,” Ayers began, leaning forward to point to the My Little Pony laptop between them on the low coffee table.

  “Next…” She paused as the two young men snorted and nudged each other. “What’s so funny?” she asked as Duppy snatched up a paper clip and played with it. “I know it looks ridiculous but even so it may contain—”

  “Nah, it’s not that. My little sister’s got one of these Little Pony things, and I can tell by the weight that this one’s got way more than its original specs on board. But, see lady, you don’t need us to hack anything to get into a CD drive.”

  He leaned over the pink device, pointed to a small pinhole under the drive bay, and then pushed a now straightened paper clip in.

  “Anyone want a drink?” Josh returned from the kitchen. He looked around at the expectant faces focused on the small CD door which had popped open. “Ooh, what’d I miss?”

  Duppy pulled something small and flat out of the ejected tray and squinted at it. “Huh. What the fuck is this thing?”

  “Oh,” Lauren muttered. “Uh, Catherine, is that what I think it is?”

  “A SmartPay dongle. Yes.” She leaned forward.

  “A smart what?” Snakepit asked; he plucked it from his friend’s fingers and inspected it closely. “And why’s some random dude stashed it in his drive?”

  “You’ve just stated your mission,” Ayers said. “Find out why it matters and what else is on the computer.”

  “Hey wait up,” Duppy said, fingers feeling around. He flipped the laptop and they saw a small circle of plastic stuck to the underside of the CD tray. He peeled it off.

  Lauren studied it as Duppy held it up to the light and realized why it looked vaguely familiar. “It’s an ID chip. For that dongle. It’s been cut from a SmartPay employee pass. You slide it in the slot at the end.”

  Snakepit’s eyes lit up, and he swiped the device through the dongle. A green light came on.

  “Oh this is cool,” he grinned widely. He took the computer to a small table near the window with better light. “Hey Duppster,” he called, throwing his friend a cable, “plug me in and let’s get cracking.” He laughed, emitting a boyish braying that set Lauren’s nerves on edge.

  Were they nuts trusting their only real lead to these two?

  Ayers stiffened, and Lauren knew she wasn’t the only one having doubts.

  “Hey,” Josh whispered as he dropped between the two women and perched on the edge of his cof
fee table. “Stop panicking. I know they look a bit amateur, but they really know their stuff. Snakepit’s got a degree in computer science and programming from MIT.”

  Lauren did a double take at the young hacker who looked swamped by his gray Fallout: New Vegas T-shirt. “Did he graduate at fourteen or something?”

  “Close,” Josh said. “Fifteen. And Duppy’s golden on other stuff you really don’t want to know about. Like getting into and out of places he really shouldn’t.”

  The two men had accessed the laptop now, and Snakepit was feverishly tapping away in front of a screen that looked like just strings of letters and numbers to Lauren.

  “Shit!” Duppy said, thumping his friend. “Check those fucking specs out!”

  Snakepit whistled. “I’ve never seen anyone overclock a machine like this. How hasn’t he fried its brains out? Do you think he—”

  “Uh guys,” Lauren interrupted. “Can you remember it’s not how he souped it up, but why?”

  Duppy gave her a dark look, then moved on. They worked steadily, talking to each other in half sentences. Ayers headed into the kitchen to take a call. Duppy, looking like a dog with its tongue lolling out a car window, promptly swivelled to examine her ass again. Lauren contemplated tossing a few of Josh’s pointier handbags at his smarmy face. Unfortunately, she needed his eyeballs—wandering or otherwise.

  “Hey can you guys do a pizza run?” Snakepit asked without looking up. His fingers flew, focus intense. “We think better with pizza.”

  “Pizza?” Lauren repeated. “You know it’s not even ten yet?”

  There was a silence as Snakepit and Duppy turned to stare at her. She couldn’t help but notice the work had instantly stopped.

  “Okay, right, yeah.” She threw her hands up in surrender and stood. “Pizza. What type?” she asked, trying hard to tune out the voice on the phone behind her.

  Because Ayer’s husky professional voice was in no way sexy. At all.