Terry coughed, years of chain-smoking leaving him a wheezing mess. “It could be. I’m looking into the particulars. Slippery motherfucker, too.”
I glanced down at my immobilized hand, the black and blue knuckles fading to an ugly swirl of yellow and green. “With a concrete jaw.”
“Speaking of which,” Terry started, clearing his throat harshly. “Stop punching people in the face, please. I have enough paperwork right now.”
“It was worth it.” I’d do it a hundred times over just to see him bleed.
“It won’t be when you wind up in a jail cell next to Bubba. I don’t bail fuckers out of the pen. I’m too old for that shit.”
I stared at the popcorn ceiling of the flat, the spring mattress pushing into pressure points I hadn’t realized I had. God, I missed my bed. Hopefully Kee was enjoying it. Naked. My cock fluttered to life at the thought. “You’re motivated when money is involved.”
“Don’t be foolish. Do you need anything else, or are you only calling to raise my goddamn blood pressure?”
“What’s being done about the threats?” I asked, the vile words still simmering in my mind.
“Service providers and websites have been served with papers. I’ll report back when they respond. You know how slow big tech can be unless something involves their bottom line. Several hundred were removed so far, as you know.”
It didn’t calm the storm in my gut, but at least it was a step forward. “We need to work on a will too.” It was morbid but necessary. If one of those monsters got ahold of me, I had a massive estate, one too complicated to sort out with its web of accounts. I could at least leave a how-to guide. Hopefully the money would make up for the lies.
“That we do, but don’t stress over the threats. It’s probably a few losers needing to blow off steam.”
“By threatening an innocent woman?” Detailed descriptions of brutalizing the woman I loved didn’t exactly sound like something not to worry about. Celebrities and their loved ones were targeted by psychopaths all the time. Ever was no different. If something happened to Kee, I’d never forgive myself.
Terry knew bits and pieces, but like everyone else, the complete picture was blurred. He knew of Ever and Ethan as separate people, figuring we were brothers or something similar, unaware he too was tangled in lies. But I didn’t feel guilty lying to him. He was a lawyer. He lied for a living. Just like me.
“Hey, people have weird kinks. They might get a big, fat hard-on from cyberbullying. Fear gets some fuckers off.” He laughed, which descending into a coughing fit. “Goddamn, I need to quit smoking.”
“No shit, Terr.” I didn’t need him croaking on me. Attorneys like him were hard to come by. That, and he’d become a friend over the years. One that I paid for by the minute like a high-priced, emphysematous, legal-lingo slinging hooker.
“Who’s this girl anyway? You sweet on her? I’ve never see you give a shit about anyone else. No offense.”
“She’s a good friend.” I wouldn’t dive into the details. It wasn’t like Terry would talk, but Kee was mine. Everything about her was off-limits, and I’d demolish those that had violated that.
“Just curious, Lothario,” he teased with a snicker in his voice. “I am an ordained minister, you know? I could draw up the pre-nup and act as your officiant when the big day comes. Bada bing, bada boom, double-duty doom and gloom.”
I held the phone out as he launched into another stream of laughs, a coughing fit sending it spiraling out of control. I could have slapped him when I heard the unmistakable sound of a cigarette lighter when I pressed the phone back to my ear. “Aren’t you on oxygen?”
He snorted up phlegm, the thick liquid gargling his voice. “Mind your business, bucks.”
“I am. You are my business. I don’t need my go-to guy blowing the fuck up.”
He met my jab with a watery chuckle. “Thatta boy.”
* * *
What the hell would a vampire wear?
I scribbled furiously on the napkin, my doodle of Manwhore Monte coming to life as I picked at my lunch. It was my new nickname for the bloodsucker that broke Kee’s heart weeks earlier.
So far, he had a crotch bulge that a horse would envy, but other than his tight, black slacks, I was lost. So I improvised. A tidy white button down, a streak of lipstick on the collar. Pointy boots. A fancy fedora. In the end, he looked like a transplant from the St. Valentine’s Day Massacre. It was too good not to share. Especially for something drawn with my dud hand.
So I did.
Originally, the plan was to go underground entirely, but I couldn’t. I missed Kee. I missed her laugh. Her smile. The ridiculous fits she’d throw over the smallest inconvenience like Manwhore Monte and his philandering ways.
And I knew she’d love the drawing.
Kee: Is that supposed to be Monte? Because if so, that’s the best thing I’ve ever seen.
I grinned, throwing a fry to a particularly pathetic pigeon a few feet from my table, the little guy too slow to compete in the feeding frenzy a few tables away, an elderly woman doling out hunks of bread. His buddies didn’t notice the potato treat, allowing him to gobble it up in peace.
Even better than me? :(
God, I couldn’t wait to be home. To see her. To smell her. To start sifting through the bullshit wedged between us. To hopefully repair what had been blown apart.
Kee: Currently, yes. I’m glad you have time to draw but not to call me.
I tossed another fry to my new feathered friend, focusing on his happy coos as he ate, rather than my text blowing up in my face. I should’ve known Kee wouldn’t let me off that easy. She was no pushover.
For what it’s worth, I miss you. Terribly.
I ached for her, but the timing wasn’t right. The Bold article might have been scrubbed from
