He was shaking his head before I finished speaking. “No, she said things I can’t forget, Steven. I expected more from her. Kari, my dad, hell, maybe even my mom…” He sneered in contempt. “My relationships with them apparently come with some high expectations and strings. I didn’t realize that until college—didn’t think it was the case with Kari at all.”
His use of the word, ‘expectation,’ reminded me of our conversations about his family. Knowing Ken’s personality like I did, I thought I was starting to see what was happening.
“Babe,” I said gently. “I know I don’t know much about the dynamics of your family, but I do know that you and your sister can both lose your cool when people don’t stick to the imagined script. It sounds like each of you went into that conversation with different expectations and came out of it angry and hurt.”
He gave a small, reluctant nod of his head. “Yes, but she knows how strained my relationship is with our dad—and why. She said things that brought that betrayal back to the fore.” Eyebrows raised he shook his head bewildered. “What did she think? That I’d hold on to hard feelings this long over nothing?!”
I knew I was missing part of this story. It sounded like something similar had happened in college with his dad and Kari hadn’t learned a lesson from that. Selfishly, this realization helped my own inner turmoil. He had issues with his family years before I’d come along, and I wasn’t as afraid that he’d resent me over it.
Gently, I encouraged him to tell me the story. He painted a picture of an idyllic childhood and family—his parents happily married, his father, the judge, an important and wise man, Ken’s own desire to emulate them and to be passionate about things that mattered and make things that mattered a priority.
He said of his dad, “He had a passion for law and a passion for people. He never wanted to let anyone down. It never crossed my mind that he’d ever let me down. But he did.”
I listened with quiet consolation as he told me about the night his dad caught him with a guy at school—how his dad tore into him, berated him, tried to make him think he was screwing up his whole life.
“I didn’t think he’d let me down,” he said again, his eyes filled with sadness. “And I didn’t think I’d ever disappoint him. But we both did those exact things by simply being ourselves, I guess. We assumed things about each other, things we thought we knew, then got upset when the other didn’t…”
“Stick to the script,” I supplied softly. “I’m seeing a genetic pattern here, Ken.”
He let out a huff of reluctant amusement. “Ya think?”
I thought about his dad. I thought about his relationship with his sister and what I knew about it. Ken didn’t have many people in his life who he loved, who were his cheerleaders. The idea that he was losing one of them broke my heart. He loved his sister and she loved him. I knew she did. Maybe they just needed to fight the pull of their DNA that wanted to write people off who disappointed them. I wanted Ken to be happy and losing his relationship with his sister wasn’t going to make him happy.
“Do you want my advice, even though we’ve established that no one takes or has any use for good advice?”
He was frowning, probably anticipating what I was going to say. Still, he said, “Sure.”
“I don’t know about your dad—you guys have let a lot of years go by. But Kari is a big part of your life and you love her. Right?” I asked pointedly.
He nodded stiffly.
“You love her,” I repeated. “So be the bigger man here, Ken. Go to the wedding without me. Help make her day fairytale perfect.” The look on his face was pure incredulity. He opened his mouth, no doubt to argue, but I held my hand up to silence him. “I know, I know,” I assured him, and squeezed his knee. “She was awful. I know it, you know, she knows it.
“This wedding is happening soon. It’s important to her. When you guys make up—and you will—you’ll both look back at the wedding pictures and be sad that you were absent. It will be a reminder of a very sad time for both of you. This way, you can avoid that regret and, honestly”—I gave him a conspiratorial, somewhat evil grin—“take some satisfaction in knowing you’re the bigger Miles. She’s petty and you’re not.”
“B-but,” he sputtered. “It’s the principle of the thing! Why should I go and celebrate her and her love, when I can’t even show up with the person I love?”
“Because you love her,” I said quietly. “And I’m right here. The wedding isn’t about me or you or us. It’s about her and what’s-his-name.”
“I don’t like this,” he muttered. “Are you trying to turn me into a good person or something?”
“You’re already a good person. I’m just trying to look after that soft heart of yours.” Somebody has to. “Go. Fulfill your family duties. If you guys haven’t patched things up by Thanksgiving, take me home with you and we can set fire to the holidays. We’ll ruin all the holidays for years to come.”
His face lit up at that. “Promise?”
“Oh, Thor give me strength. Yes, yes, I promise.”
We finished eating our cold Chinese, then Ken announced that he was going to email Kari to tell her that he’d be in Cleveland for a fitting on the sixteenth.
“Sounds good. I’m going to watch some DWTS.” We’d been together long enough for him to know that DWTS meant Dancing with the Stars. We’d also been together long enough for me to know he disliked the show.
He gave a rueful twist of his lips, but said, “I’ve got a book in my bag, so go crazy.” He pulled his phone out of his pocket and started typing.
I scooted down to recline on the armrest and turned on the DVR to get the show going, but my eyes kept straying to Ken who seemed to be concentrating hard on whatever he was writing. Once, he huffed and said, “No. Delete,” and started again.
This witch…
Pride and principle were important to Ken. Extending this olive branch, letting her have her way was difficult for him. But he was tenderhearted under his crust, and I suspected he was relieved that I was encouraging him to do this.
I hoped his sister took this opportunity to make things right with him, because if she didn’t, I was sure Ken wouldn’t be giving her another chance.
His phone chimed with a text. I glanced over to see him exhale shakily. When he connected eyes to mine, I could see his were shimmering with moisture.
“What did she say?”
He cleared his throat. “Just I love you.”
“Oh,” I replied. “That’s good. That’s a good start.”
He set his phone on the table and swatted his hand in the air. “She’s just saying that because she’s getting her way.” The words were gruff, but he wore a smile. He came toward me, so I started to rise from my reclined position, but he stopped me.
“Don’t get up.” He lifted my legs and settled himself underneath them, draping my limbs over his lap.
“You okay?”
“I think I will be, thanks to you.”
“I didn’t do anything,” I said, waving my hand in dismissal.
He caught my hand mid-swipe and brought my knuckles to his lips. “You did everything,” he said, relief and gratitude etched on his features. I paused the playback on the TV, anticipating a serious conversation about what came next, but he surprised me when he affected a comically horrified expression. “You DVR this show?”
Ah, I loved when Ken became playful.
I played along, fighting my smile. “Yes, I do, McPretty. Don’t judge me. The new season is starting next week, so I thought I’d re-watch the last finale.”
His eyebrows lifted in surprise. “Wait. This is old? You’ve been watching reruns? You already know who wins?” His voice was infused with exaggerated incredulousness, underscoring how crazy he thought it was.
I felt my lips twitch, but I held fast to my composure. “What?” I shrugged, pretending to be oblivious.
“I don’t know how I feel about this.” He dropped my hand like I had leprosy. “Movi
es are one thing, but re-watching contests? Dance contests?”
I couldn’t hold back, I burst into laughter. He was too freaking adorable.
He continued to fight his smile and muttered, “You think you know somebody…then he uses air quotes and records dance contests.” He shook his head like the situation was completely tragic.
I scrambled up, removing my legs from his lap. “What do you have against dancing?”
“I don’t enjoy it,” he replied baldly.
I straddled his lap, brought my face close to his and whispered, “There’s nothing about bodies moving in sync that stimulates you at all, Ken?” I lowered my groin to his and gave a tight, controlled grind.
He hissed out a breath, bringing his hands to my hips. “I understand wanting to dance, enjoying the act as a participant—like Paulie does. But watching others dance, viewing it as art holds no appeal for me.”
I gave another thrust, pulling a moan from him.
“Do you like participating? In dances? What about a lap dance? Do you see the value in that?” I asked softly, my lips just above his.
With my next grind, he was un-bucking my belt.
“Steven,” he said, breath shallow. “If we were the participants in a recorded lap dance, I would re-watch the hell out of it.”
Chapter Thirty
*Steven*
A week later, I had the distinct pleasure of witnessing Dan and Kat’s marriage ceremony at the courthouse. It was satisfying to see my friends finally embark on the relationship I always knew they were destined for—not to mention it was also a huge relief to hear the I dos that signaled I was officially off the hook for helping Kat out of her predicament.
Bonus: I was in possession of one hilarious wedding video of my friends macking on each other with complete abandon. It was going to come in handy the next time I wanted to bust Dan’s balls. After the macaron bomb prank, he had it coming.
The next day, after a reportedly long, difficult labor, Janie and Quinn welcomed baby Desmond. Once word got out, all the staff in the residence were wearing happy smiles and talking excitedly about the baby.
On our way into the building, Charles, our doorman, asked, “Are they bringing him home tomorrow, Mr. Thompson?”
I didn’t know.
As we passed the desk Larry said, “I bought him a teddy bear. Do you think the baby will like teddy bears, Mr. Thompson?”
I didn’t know.
In the elevator, I wondered aloud how many days old a baby was before they opened their eyes. Ken said babies weren’t kittens and, oh my God, wasn’t I an uncle, how did I not know this?
One thing I did know: Ken was so fun to mess with.
Dan left for his Australia trip that night, and Kat moved into his apartment. We spent several hours together over the next week. And though she’d tried fishing for information about the mystery man I was seeing, I still resisted telling her about him. It wasn’t normal, and I didn’t understand why—besides it being a habit to keep people out of my business—I kept up the secrecy. Checking the hallway before we left the apartment and exiting the elevator first to scan the lobby was becoming tedious. The longer we were together, the more ridiculous my efforts seemed. I needed to just rip the Band-Aid off and let everyone know we were a couple. But, honestly, the unveiling of Ken to Ernesto didn’t exactly go well. I was still annoyed and avoiding him, and I didn’t need more of that same judgment from anyone else. Maybe it was for the best that I kept Ken under wraps for a bit longer.
On Friday, I went up to the penthouse with Kat and Stan to see Janie and the baby. Quinn let us in, and since it was the first time I’d seen him since Desmond’s arrival, I shook his hand and congratulated him. He gave me a terse, thank you, then stalked back to stand by Janie’s side. I didn’t know why I was disappointed, but I was. Quinn had never been given to chitchat or small talk, and he looked haggard, to be honest. I got it. He was tired, probably unsure and slightly nervous about having a tiny human to take care of. And, I bet my bonus, he wasn’t keen on visitors coming in to gawk at the baby or tiring Janie. Still, he gave Kat a tiny smile and later, pulled Stan aside for a conversation.
Elizabeth was also there, and she kept giving me…looks. Knowing looks. Squinty-eyed, suspicious looks. Those looks turned devilish when she said, “So, Steven, what have you been…doing…lately?”
Ken would have been so proud of me, my face was blank—not one muscle betraying anything when I answered, “You know, stuff and things.”
“Stuffing things?” she asked wryly, cupping her hand around her ear like she was hard of hearing.
I glared at her, but it was completely ruined by the small smile playing on my lips. I gave my head a little shake and turned back to Janie, who was cradling her son. The baby had been sleeping since before we arrived, so I hadn’t had a chance to see his eyes. That thought spurred me to pull my phone out and send Ken a text.
ME: This kid hasn’t opened his eyes once. He’s six days old. I think you need to go back to medical school. :P
I didn’t get a text back until almost seven, long after I’d escaped the penthouse and Elizabeth’s gaze.
DKM: Shh, my degree is in veterinary medicine. They haven’t caught on yet.
I smiled at his goofy response. Who said DKM wasn’t funny? He was a riot.
DKM: I just picked up my race packet. I need to be out the door by 4:30 tomorrow morning to catch the shuttle, so no sexy time tonight. I need to conserve my energy.
The half-marathon he was running was the next day. He’d been excited about it all week. I understood his excitement and competitiveness, but no sex? This was crazy talk.
ME: Sure, sure. But wouldn’t a blow job relax you and help you get to sleep faster? I mean, if you’d rather do your breathing exercises, that’s fine too…
His response was almost immediate.
DKM: You make a compelling argument…
DKM: I’ll be home soon.
By 8:30, Ken was out like a light, dreaming sweet dreams. I, however, was restless, so I got up and watched television for a while, checked my email and opened my physical mail.
I had two brightly colored envelopes in the pile that looked like greeting cards or birthday cards. My birthday wasn’t for a few more months, so I was curious. No return address on either and my name written in the same handwriting wasn’t a good sign. I had my suspicions about the sender before I opened them.
The first card, in a pink envelope, showed a photo of a lipstick-wearing gorilla smiling widely, displaying impressively scary, yellow teeth and fangs. The smile looked deranged, and even though nothing about this situation was funny, I laughed.
Above the gorilla were the words, “IT WOULD BE TOTALLY BANANAS…” When I opened the card, the printed message ended with “…IF YOU WERE MY VALENTINE.”
“He’s a lunatic,” I whispered. Did this guy have unused Valentine’s Day cards hanging around his house? Did he stock up in February so he could woo men year-round?
“ROSES ARE RED
VILETS ARE BLUE
LOSE THE GUY
OR I’M GONNA HURT YOU”
Crazy and stupid, what a combo…
I grabbed the next card. It was in a neon orange envelope, with a drawn picture of a corgi under a word bubble with the phrase, “HEY CORGEOUS” printed in shiny block letters.
Inside, the handwritten note started on the left side, in decent handwriting, but as it got closer to the bottom, the words became sloppy.
“I’m sorry, come back to the Male and we can talk about it. I didn’t mean to make you mad. Forgive me. I love you. Why do you want to make me jealous? I’m not nice when I’m jealous. Ditch him and we can start over. I promise I’ll be better. I won’t hurt you I promise. I won’t hurt you unless you try to hurt me again. If I see you with him again, I’ll know you are trying to fuck me up and I’ll fuck you up, do you understand? I’LL FUCK YOU UP SO HARD NO ONE WILL RECOGNIZE YOU! Meet at our place on Saturday. I love you.”
; The pain behind my eye was coming back. Every time things started to seem like they were settling down, King had to pop up. Maybe this was going to be his modus operandi. Maybe I’d get cards or letters or pictures every few weeks until he got bored. I hoped he got bored very soon, because this was getting old.
I had to hide the cards. If Ken saw them, he’d go to Quinn. I knew he would. He said he would. But…Quinn wasn’t in a particularly generous and understanding mood lately, nor was I his favorite person on staff. If he found out I’d let a nutcase into his building—the same building where his wife slept, he’d be furious.
I told Ken he’d murder me and throw me into the lake, but that wasn’t the worst thing he could do, honestly.
He could fire me.
Quinn had never warmed to me. I knew it, I felt it. But he’d put a lot of trust and faith in me and that had been enough.
I looked around at the apartment. It was luxurious, no doubt. But it was also home. This apartment, this building, it felt like home in a way no place had since childhood. Cipher Systems wasn’t just my source of income, it was a career that fulfilled me. My coworkers were my friends, neighbors, family. If he fired me, I’d lose everything.
With these thoughts swimming in my head, I took the cards and stuffed them into a magazine then tucked the magazine into the bottom drawer of my desk in the spare room. I wanted to throw them away, tear them to pieces, but part of me knew that the day might come when I needed them as evidence. I hoped that day would never come, but I had to be smart about it. I’d deal with this when I could, when I needed to.
I still didn’t have anything law enforcement would care about, so what was the point in making a stink? There wasn’t one.
Ken wouldn’t see it that way.
* * *
Just to prove my point that Cipher Systems was a kick-ass, awesome family to be a part of, I got to be in a posse on Tuesday evening.
Sticking to the Script: Cipher Office Book #2 Page 21
