I looked down at Anthony as he explained himself, and I had to agree with what he was saying. The sex we’d just had was beyond belief, and I was immensely satisfied and pleased that it had happened, but it was too dangerous for us to keep doing stuff like that when there was still a blackmailer out there who wanted anything he could have on Anthony.
“I understand,” I said, drying off with the hand towel. “We have to play the hand we’ve been given. I’m fine with not seeing you again until this blackmail situation is under control—but I definitely do want to see you again.”
“I want to see you again, too, Kirby,” Anthony said, turning to look at me. He grabbed my leggings from the floor in front of me, then reached across me to pick up my cami. He rose to his feet and handed me my clothing before kissing me on the cheek.
“But even after we get that under control,” he said, pulling away from me, “we still have a few other things to straighten out, and it isn’t gonna be easy.”
“I know,” I replied, shaking my clothes out in front of me. “But I’m up for the challenge.”
“Me too,” Anthony said—and I believed him.
Chapter 12
When I walked into Stonegate Tower, I walked in with my back straight, my head held high, and a sense of uncompromised swagger. When I walked out, I left the place feeling even better. I guess you could say that, if I entered with an air of confidence, I exited in a tornado of it.
I’d just had incredible sex with an incredible man, and we’d hinted around at our future. I was on cloud 9, and I felt like the world was my oyster.
At the same time, I was still worried and disappointed. The blackmailer was still at large—and even though I knew it had to be Willard who was blackmailing Anthony, and that Anthony’s guy would handle things quickly, I still resented the fact that some greedy asshole was standing in my way. I didn’t like the fact that I couldn’t see Anthony again until the situation was resolved, and I also didn’t like that I couldn’t talk to anyone about it.
Before I left his office, Anthony reminded me, again, not to tell anyone about what had happened, and I promised I wouldn’t. But there was a part of me that wanted so badly to share it with someone, just so I could be reminded that it happened. Sometimes our experiences don’t seem real until we’ve told someone else about them, and it’s through our memories and recollections that we relive them. That’s why writers write and why alcoholics tell war stories, isn’t it?
Anthony and I also briefly discussed how I’d deal with explaining our meeting to my parents. We decided that I’d tell them that Anthony got a last-minute call and had to reschedule for a later date and time. We were both fairly sure that they’d buy it. I was also supposed to try and sell London on the same lie, in case he asked. That way, he couldn’t tell Willard anything that’d give him more fuel for his fire or tip him off in any way.
I was fine with lying to my parents, but something didn’t feel right about lying to London. He was, after all, my friend—the only one I had—and I wanted very much to be honest with him. Of course, I didn’t want to jeopardize Anthony’s investigation, or worse yet, his reputation, but I wanted more than anything to be able to tell London about my morning. I needed to relive the good parts, and I wanted to warn him about the bad guy he’d let into his bed (or, rather, his kitchenette).
As I drove home, I kept scolding and reminding myself about Anthony’s request and my promise. As much as I wanted to talk to London, I had to keep telling myself that I couldn’t. Over and over again, I kept telling myself to remain silent. When I pulled up in front of my house, however, I knew that wouldn’t be very easy.
From where I parked my car, I could see London busy at work in his back yard, and another, older man was with him. I squinted my eyes a little to see who the guy was, but ultimately realized that I didn’t recognize him. I knew it wasn’t Mr. Gallagher and wondered, for a moment, if it was one of London’s conquests—maybe he, like me, had recently discovered the appeal of an older partner.
I got out of my car and walked toward the back door. London caught sight of me and smiled.
“Hey, baby,” he shouted. The older man looked over in my direction.
“That’s my girlfriend,” London said, explaining himself to the fellow. With his words, I knew that it was beard time.
“Hey, baby,” I shouted back.
London walked over toward me. “This guy’s here cleaning the pool,” London told me quietly so as not to be overheard. “Dad wants me to watch him ‘cause he thinks I don’t know how to do it myself.”
I looked over at the older man and saw some tools behind him that I hadn’t noticed before.
“Do me a favor?” London asked. I held back my sigh. I knew what was coming.
“Come over and hang out with me until he leaves…please?” London had a desperate look on his face, and despite my better judgment, I caved.
“Alright,” I said, forcing a smile across my face.
“Hey, Luke,” London shouted at the older guy, “I’m gonna go spend some time with my girlfriend before my parents get home. You don’t need me, do you?”
Luke shook his head then winked at London. “Nope, I’m good,” he said. I felt him undressing me with his eyes as I walked past him, and I wanted to slap London for being so suggestive in his remarks to him.
Once we were inside the pool house, London went to the fridge and got two beers, then came over and handed me one. He didn’t even offer it to me and kinda just expected me to take it, which I did.
“So how are things with your boyfriend?” he asked.
“Good,” I replied playfully. “How are things with yours?”
London cracked his beer open and took a sip. “My boyfriend?” he asked. “I don’t have one.”
“What happened with you and Willard?” I asked, a little surprised.
“Nothing,” London replied. “Nothing happened—and it wasn’t supposed to.”
“What do you mean?” I asked. Only yesterday, I’d seen London’s dick in Willard’s mouth and Willard’s hands on London’s shoulders, and I wondered what happened to all of that chemistry and compassion.
“It was just a hook-up, Kirby,” London said, taking another swig. “I’m not out yet, and neither is he. We never intended to date or anything. We just wanted to fuck around. It may or may not happen again, though I doubt it will. We never even exchanged e-mail addresses or phone numbers—so unless we run into each other again somewhere, I think it’s pretty much over.”
“Oh,” I said. I didn’t really know what else to say. I hadn’t seen that one coming.
“But enough about me,” London went on. He sure liked to change the subject whenever it got the least bit serious. “You met with that Anthony guy earlier today, right? How did that go?”
I knew that I’d been instructed and had promised to tell London that my meeting had been cancelled. But in that instant, I couldn’t—and I couldn’t for self-centered reasons.
“It went pretty damn well,” I said with a smile that made my face feel warm.
London perked up a little and leaned back on the sofa. “Sounds interesting,” he said. “Go on.”
I decided that London didn’t need to know about what a prick Willard ended up being, and opted not to tell him about the blackmail note or the related job offer. Instead of reliving any of that, I relived the good parts and told him the short version of how Anthony ended up fucking me on top of his desk, in his lush office on the 12th floor of Stonegate Tower.
London was all ears as I recounted the lurid details, and he pushed and prodded me for more information. He wanted to know what this meant for me and Anthony, if (and when) we were going to see each other again, and how we were going to deal with things as far as my parents were concerned.
It was exactly as I expected it to be. Talking with London made the experience seem more real, and I was grateful that I had a friend to share it with.
I answered most of London’s questions
with “I don’t know,” and he ended up asking me the same questions again and again, as if I’d reach an epiphany and change my answer. When I didn’t, he finally moved on and started asking different questions.
“What else did you guys talk about?” he inquired.
At this point, two things happened: (1) I reminded myself, again, of my promise to Anthony; and (2) my phone started buzzing in my purse. I was pretty sure that it was Mom calling—a follow-up to the preemptive call she’d placed that morning—and I decided to deal with those two things, in that order.
Chapter 13
“Nothing, really,” I said in response to London’s question.
“So you guys just fucked and that was it?” London asked snidely. I didn’t like his tone, but I was too distracted to say or do anything about it. My phone had stopped buzzing from one call, and was now buzzing from another.
“He had a last-minute meeting pop up this morning,” I added, pulling select information from my bag of lies. My phone stopped buzzing, then started again. “So we knew we didn’t have much time, and got right down to business.”
“Interesting,” London said. He looked at me suspiciously. Even though I was trying my best to look and act comfortable, the situation was getting the better of me. Something about it was very unsettling.
“How did he act toward you?” London asked. “Did he treat you the same as before, or did he act any different?”
London sure was asking a lot of questions, and sure enough, my phone buzzed for a fourth time.
“He acted the same,” I said. My mind was spinning, and a variety of thoughts and facts collided in my head, leading me to a series of alarming conclusions.
“My phone keeps ringing,” I said, stating one obvious thing and trying to avoid another. “I’m gonna get it.”
London nodded and took a sip from his beer as I walked to retrieve my bag from the entry table where I’d placed it. By the time I pulled my phone out, it had stopped ringing, and I saw that I’d missed six calls from the same “private” number.
As I held my phone in my hand, it started buzzing again, and “private” flashed across the screen. This time, I answered it.
“Hello?” I said.
“Kirby, I’ve been trying to call you!” a strained voice cried out from the other end. It was Anthony, and he sounded worried.
“It wasn’t Willard Preston who sent the note,” he went on, not waiting for me to respond. “It was London. Your neighbor, London Gallagher, is the one trying to blackmail me.”
“I know, Mom,” I said, cool as a cucumber. “I’m really sorry about that…and I’m sorry I didn’t answer your calls until now. I stopped over at the pool house on my way home, and I’ve been hanging out with London.”
I was being both cryptic and honest, and thankfully, Anthony picked up on it.
“You’re still there now, aren’t you?” he asked. “And he’s listening?”
Instinctively, I glanced over at London, even though I didn’t need to check to see if he was listening. I knew that he was, and I did what I could to recover.
“Yes,” I said in a somewhat placating voice. I lifted my hand and made a Pac-Man gesture to London to indicate that Mom was yapping on the other end. London smiled and tossed back his head to take another gulp of beer.
“Did you tell him anything about this morning?” Anthony asked.
“Kinda,” I replied. “Mr. Swift had an unexpected call this morning, and we had to reschedule, but we did get to chat for a little while.”
Saying that I got to meet with Anthony at all was not a part of our cover-up, and I prayed that he’d take this change in the story to indicate that I’d told London more than I should have.
“Did you mention the note?” Anthony asked. I was pleased that he’d picked up on my pattern, but I didn’t know how much longer I could maintain it.
“No,” I said, staring down at my fingernails, feigning boredom.
“But you told him about…the other part?” Anthony asked. “About… the sex?”
“Yeah,” I said. “But that’s all…we didn’t really have much time to talk.”
Anthony didn’t say anything for a moment, and I feared I’d go deaf from the silence.
“Stay right there,” he finally said. “Don’t go anywhere, and don’t tell him anything else. I’ll be right over, as soon as I can get there…I’m leaving now.”
“Alright, Mom,” I said. “I’ll see you later.”
“Be careful,” Anthony said in parting.
“You too,” I replied, though he’d already hung up the phone.
As I pressed “end” on my cell phone, London got up from the couch and walked over toward me. When he reached me, he stood face to face with me, looked down at my phone, and took it from my hand.
“That wasn’t really your mom, was it?” he asked.
“No,” I answered. “It wasn’t.” It was too late to lie or play a part anymore. He’d already seen through my front, and I had no other choice but to be honest.
“Are you going to tell me who it was?” London inquired, swiping his finger across my phone. “Or do I have to actually ask you?”
“Neither,” I replied. “You obviously already know who it was.”
“And you obviously already know a lot, too,” London said. “More than you’ve told me.”
“Maybe I do,” I fired back, “but there’s one thing I definitely don’t know.”
London put my phone in his pocket, cocked his head to the side, and raised his eyebrow.
“Why?” I asked, raising my own eyebrow, along with my voice.
“Why?” he repeated. “You want to know why?” He gestured toward the couch, “Have a seat, and I’ll tell you.”
I walked back over to where London had pointed and sat down. As he came closer, I cringed at the thought of him near me. How could I have been so wrong about him? I’d thought he was my friend, but really, he’d betrayed me. I was infuriated.
“You’re never gonna get away with this, you know,” I said, expressing both my opinion and my anger. “You should just back out now. We can all forget about it and pretend it never happened.”
“I’m not gonna back out, Kirby,” London replied, laughing. “And I will get away with it, trust me.”
“How?” I asked, still infuriated and increasingly curious.
“You’ll see,” London answered, picking up his beer and drinking what was left of it. “But one question a time…. Before we get to how, let’s go back to why. I know your boyfriend is probably on his way here right now, and he doesn’t need to know the answer to that one as much as you do.”
London was right. I did need to know the answer, and I needed to know it more than Anthony did, and for different reasons. Anthony’s interests were fiduciary. Mine were personal. I needed to understand London’s motivation, incentive, and reasoning to know why someone I’d trusted would do something like this to me, to see why he’d betray our friendship.
My entire body was tense, but I tried my best to relax a little. I leaned back into the couch, crossed my legs, and stared intently at London.
“Okay,” I said, finally cracking open the beer he’d given me. “Go ahead. Tell me. Why?”
London’s lips curled into a crooked grin, and I knew I was about to get far more than I’d asked for.
~~~
Thank you for reading Part 2 of Kiss and Tell.
Part 3 will be released soon :)
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