Everyone Has Secrets

by Edward Kendrick

  “It’s me,” I replied.

  “Given the number came up as Unknown I sort of figured it might be. Where are you?”

  “A long way from you, even if you’re in Virginia at the moment.”

  He snorted. “That tells me nothing, but then I didn’t expect you to reveal where you’ve ended up. How are you doing?”

  “I don’t look like I was mugged, anymore. I’m going to find a doctor to check my hand and remove the splints. At least I hope he will. Other than that, I’m okay.” I took a deep breath then asked, “How’s Lorne?”

  “From what little I’ve seen of him, since I’m still here, not in Virginia, he seems to be doing fine.”

  “Good,” I replied, although I wasn’t sure I meant it. I think I’d have preferred to hear that he was pining away for me. “Still at the hardware store?”

  “Yep.”

  “Okay. You can reach me at the same number you did before, if you need to get in touch. I keep the phone with me, although I don’t use it.”

  “Hoping he’ll call?” Gavin asked quietly.

  “Yeah, maybe. It hasn’t happened, so I guess he’s finally decided I’m not the man he might have wanted in his life. God, that sounded maudlin.”

  Gavin laughed. “It did. Just so you know, when I said he was fine I was fudging a bit. As I said, we get together now and then. Sometimes he asks, real casually, if I’ve heard from you, like he was wondering if you bothered to keep in touch with me. Since I haven’t, until today, I didn’t have to lie to him when I said I hadn’t. Do you want me to say you called, the next time he asks?”

  “What good would it do?”

  “He might get in touch with you, if I tell him you said it was okay.”

  “It’s not,” I replied sharply, even though my pulse sped up at the thought of hearing his voice again. “It wasn’t meant to be, even though we were attracted to each other.”

  “If you say he’s better off without you, I’d debate it. Hell, I have before. It’s your choice, though, so I’ll keep my mouth shut whenever he asks. Now, since I’ve got you on the line, I might have something I’ll need your help with. It won’t be for a while, if I do.”

  “When you know, call me.”

  He chuckled. “Believe me, I will. You owe me for keeping your name off the agency’s radar. By the way, is it the name you’re using now?”

  “Yes. No one I have to worry about knows me by it. I always use another name when I’m…pursuing my real career.”

  “Are you going to do financial advising again, as a cover?”

  “I haven’t decided yet. I’m good at it, but if I did, you could find me.”

  “Brant, I can find you no matter what you do, if I put my mind to it. I won’t though, unless it becomes necessary.”

  “Thanks.”

  There was a long silence before he said, “Despite your real line of work, I consider you a friend, and a decent man. Take that for what it’s worth.”

  “A lot,” I replied honestly. “I think of you as a friend as well, so I’ll keep in touch. Right now, though, I should let you go. I have things I need to do.”

  “All right. I’m glad you called.”

  “I am, too,” I replied before hanging up. I meant it.

  * * * *

  I spent Monday afternoon rearranging—again. As Gavin had said—and I believed him—he could find me if he had to, so I might as well do what I was good at and become a financial advisor again as my cover. I had everything I needed to do so, including my old client list. While some of them had needed their hands held when they made decisions, others might be willing to work with me again via phone and email. What I did could be done from anywhere that way—like my house. If I could get four or five of them back, it would give me a good start—and people who would recommend me to new clients down here if necessary.

  I didn’t really need a big bedroom. The smaller one would do me just fine, so I moved my bedroom furniture to it and set up my office in what had been the master bedroom. It had one huge advantage—a private entrance so clients who wanted to work with me face-to-face wouldn’t have to trek through the house. With my desk and filing cabinets in place, and my computers set up, I got in touch with those old clients I thought would want me to work with them again. I got lucky—four of them were enthusiastic about the idea, so I was back in business.

  Now all I had to do was start the ball rolling on my real career, which meant visiting some of the clubs in the city to see if I could get a lead on ones which were for members only.

  * * * *

  “You’re new,” the guy sitting next to me at the bar said, eyeing me speculatively. It was Wednesday and I was doing the rounds of more of the bars in the downtown area of the city. Last night had pretty much been a bust as far as I was concerned. Well, as far as finding out if there were any members-only clubs around. I met a couple of interesting men and went home with one of them. Being me, I didn’t stay the night, but then he didn’t ask me to, either. Like meeting like, I suppose.

  “First time in here. Hell, first week in town as far as that goes.” Not quite the truth. I’d been here for a month if I count the time it took to finalize buying my house.

  “Like it? Oh, I’m Mark.” He held out his hand.

  I shook it, saying, “Brant. Yeah, so far it seems okay.”

  He grinned. “The bar or the city?”

  “Both, actually. This place is busy. The bar, that is.”

  “It gets that way with all the tourists checking it out. At least the dance floor is upstairs. They don’t seem to find it, although maybe it’s more they’re afraid of what they’ll see if they do. Anyway, it makes things minimally less crowded up there.” He took a drink of his beer then said, “Damn, I hope you’re not a tourist.”

  I laughed. “Nope. I was transferred here by the company I work for. Found a nice place to live for a reasonable price and start work next Monday.”

  “Doing what?”

  “Sales. What do you do?”

  “Tour guide during the day. Musician on the weekends.” Mark ran his fingers over the bar as if he was playing a piano.

  “Oh? Where?”

  “A club uptown.”

  I nodded, flagging down the bartender to order another beer. “You want fresh one, too?”

  “Naw, I’m good, thanks. Do you mind if I ask what happened to your hand?”

  “I was in an auto accident. You should have seen me a month ago. I looked like I went three rounds with Mohammed Ali.”

  “You’re okay now, though?

  “Yep, except for the fingers. With luck the splints will come off in a week or so.”

  He gave me a compassionate smile then asked, “So you’re in good enough shape to dance, if you do?”

  “I am, and I’ve been known to,” I replied, amused by the way he’d approached the subject.

  Things progressed as expected from there. When my drink arrived, we went upstairs, danced, talked, and ended up at his apartment. It wasn’t until we were lying there after some pretty satisfying sex that I asked him which club he worked at—and hit pay dirt.

  “It a private one, no females allowed, if you get my drift.”

  “I do. I belonged to one, before I moved out here. I was hoping there was at least a couple around, because I much prefer them to those that let just anyone in, male and female.”

  “Maybe, if you’re free Saturday night…”

  “Hmm?”

  “I can get you in as my guest so you can check it out, since I work there. If you like it, I’ll put in a good word for you. Of course they’ll check you out before letting you join but I’ve got the feeling you’ll pass that with flying colors.”

  Of course I would, once I got into their system to make certain I met the criteria and that they received the correct, in quotations, information about me.

  By Monday afternoon it was a done deal. I was a member of the club. It bore a close resemblance to the last one I’d belonged to—good
food, good drinks, and a private entrance to the second floor rooms for men who would rather not be seen entering the club.

  Everything was going my way. The problem was, in spite of that I wasn’t happy. Something was missing, or rather someone. I couldn’t get Lorne out of my thoughts no matter how hard I tried. I was even dreaming of him. Not the erotic kind I’ve experienced when thinking of some of the men I used to know. These dreams of Lorne were, God help me, domestic for lack of a better word. Dreams of how our life together could be in another reality where I felt free to tell him what I was without fear of him walking away, or worse.

  I knew it would never happen in real life, but still I dreamed.

  * * * *

  I had my next target in my sights. Strangely enough, I didn’t find him at the club. I learned about him from the doctor who examined and X-rayed my fingers then removed the splints. I happened to mention that I’d checked out a couple of other doctors before him and hadn’t been impressed—especially with a Dr. Vane.

  “I just…He seemed too cheap. Not that I mind cheap for some things, but not for medical care.”

  “He’s a quack. If you’d decided to go to him the first thing he’d have told you was that he needed to be paid up front before he would even examine you.”

  “He can get away with that?”

  “He has so far,” the doctor replied tightly. “He deals primarily with patients who can’t afford insurance, and don’t know any better than to believe him when he tells them they need this or that kind of medical care, whether they do or not. He lets them think that he’s giving them a break in the price because he knows they’re hurting.” He scowled. “Literally and monetarily hurting.”

  “Damn. I’m glad I went with my instincts.”

  “Even though I’m undoubtedly charging you twice what he would have?” he asked with a bark of laughter.

  “You better believe it.”

  My visit with him ended with his giving me a list of exercises my fingers. “Don’t try to push past the initial pain,” he cautioned. “Not if you want to regain the mobility in them you had before your accident.” As with everyone else who’d asked, I had told him the injury was due to an auto accident. I didn’t think he needed, or probably wanted to know the real cause.

  I left his office more than a few dollars poorer, because I didn’t have insurance. I planned to make that money back, and a hell of a lot more. That is if I could find some dirt on Dr. Vane which would give me more leverage than just telling him I would let the world know how he was scamming the indigent people who came to him for what they thought would be decent medical care.

  I went home and began to do my due diligence, so to speak, on Dr. Vane—meaning I used my considerable hacking skills to find what I needed to blackmail him. It took longer than I liked, but in the end I came up with proof that he was dealing opioids. He would give a patient a couple of samples, and then when they were hooked he kept them supplied under the table at a price that was lower than the going rate from a pharmacy or on the street. Why no one had reported him to the police was beyond me, but they hadn’t. I would, once I got my very large share of his profits.

  As I’d already been to his office once, I obviously had to change my appearance before going there again. Contacts, a wig, and a small, scraggly mustache, plus worn jeans and a work shirt did the trick.

  He ran a one-man operation, so getting in to see him without having to go through a receptionist was easy, after I’d made an appointment. He greeted me with a smile, asking me to have a seat in his office.

  “Now tell me what’s wrong with you,” he said in a very avuncular tone of voice, looking at me over the rims of his half-glasses.

  “I have chronic pain in my left shoulder,” I replied. “The last doctor I went to took X-rays but couldn’t find a cause.” I handed him the manila envelope I was carrying. “He let me have copies of them.”

  I waited while he opened the envelope and slid out the contents. He paled when he saw what it really contained, a printout of the information I found on his illegal activities, with some of the details about what he was doing.

  “Where did you get this, and why are you showing it to me?” he asked almost defiantly, as if by denying it pertained to him would make me believe I had the wrong man.

  “I think you know,” I replied. “Those are copies. The originals are in my safety deposit box.” I leaned back casually, looking at him. “I’m willing to give them to you, for a price.”

  “Are you out of your mind? Why would I pay you anything for something so patently false?” Even though he sounded shocked that I would accuse him of dealing drugs, his hands were shaking as he scanned the papers again.

  “Because what you’re looking at is only the tip of the iceberg. I have many more names and dates than what you’re seeing there. Information I’m certain the police would love to get their hands on.”

  He swallowed hard. “How do I know you won’t turn them over to the cops, even if I do pay you? I presume that’s why you’re here, to blackmail me.”

  I smiled. “Blackmail is such an ugly word. All I’m asking is a contribution from you to my retirement fund. Say—” I tapped my lip thoughtfully, “—ten thousand dollars in small, unmarked bills, payable by this time tomorrow.”

  “How the hell do you think I can get my hands on that kind of money in twenty-four hours?”

  “I have no idea, but I’m sure you will if you don’t want a visit from the cops. It’s now one-thirty. I’ll call you tomorrow at one to tell you where to meet me with the money. If you think that by eliminating me you’ll be safe, think again. My associate will take copies of all the files to the police if she doesn’t hear from me by this time tomorrow. Understand?”

  “Yes,” he replied in a shaky voice.

  “Good. Oh, by the way, don’t think you can leave town. We’ll be watching you. If you try…” I smiled and shrugged, got up, and left his office.

  Twenty-four hours later I was ten-thousand dollars richer. An hour after he’d handed over the money Dr. Vane got a visit from the police.

  That evening, Gavin called. The first words out of his mouth when I answered my phone were, “I’m presuming you’re a bit richer than you were this morning.”

  I played dumb, replying, “Huh?”

  “Don’t go there, Brant. The arrest of Dr. Vane has all the hallmarks of one of your jobs. Complete information on what he was doing, delivered anonymously to the police.” He chuckled. “You done good, to use the vernacular. One less dealer on the streets.”

  “I do try to do my part to keep humanity safe from predators,” I replied with a sharp laugh. “Is that why you called, to congratulate me?”

  “Partly. I also could use your help, with my superior’s approval.”

  “If you told him about what I do…” I spat out.

  “I promised you I wouldn’t. I don’t break my promises. As far as he’s concerned you’re a man I met on another job who has the skills I need at the moment. More importantly, you’re an unknown, with no attachment to the agency.”

  “Okay, I’ll buy that. So, what do you need?”

  “I’ll tell you when you get back here.”

  “Uh-uh. No way, no how. If you’re going after someone who is in the city, count me out. Otherwise, you come down here. That’s not negotiable.”

  “I figured that’s what you’d say,” Gavin replied. “I can be there tomorrow. All I need is to know where, and an address.”

  I snorted. “I thought you told me you could find me no matter where I was.”

  “I can, but if you tell me it’ll save time and effort on my part.”

  “Lazy fucker,” I muttered, and then told him.

  “Nice city,” he commented. “I’ll call when I arrive at the airport. I presume you’ve got a car, but you don’t have to pick me up. I’ll rent one.”

  “I’m leasing mine,” I replied. “That way I can write it off as a business expense.”

  “
For your financial advisor company.”

  I snorted. “No. I thought I’d declare my other career when I pay my taxes.”

  That earned me a laugh before he said, “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  Chapter 12

  I heard a car pull into the driveway around noon on Tuesday. Figuring it was Gavin, I went to the front door to let him in when he rang the bell. When I saw who was with him, I would have slammed the door shut if he hadn’t put his hand on it to stop me.

  “You set me up,” I growled.

  “Not really,” Gavin replied. “I do need your help and since I was coming down here, I decided to bring Lorne along. He had no idea why.”

  “He told me he’d heard from a guy he and Kyler knew and thought I might like to meet him.” Lorne didn’t seem any happier about being here than I was seeing him standing on my doorstep.

  All right, not quite the truth, at least on my part. I was happy to see him. Very much so. The thing is, his being here didn’t solve the basic problem. Because I cared about him, even more than I’d realized until this moment, I was in an untenable position. If I let him know how I felt, and if he reciprocated, then I’d have to tell him what I was. That would kill everything before it got started. If I hid my feelings then I was stuck in limbo, caring for a man I could never have.

  “Are we going to stand on the doorstep, staring at each other, or can we come inside,” Gavin asked with a brief smile.

  Reluctantly, I stepped aside to let them in.

  Without asking permission, Gavin began exploring the house, leaving Lorne and me standing in the living room.

  Uncertain what to say, I rather inanely asked Lorne, “How was the flight?”

  He shrugged. “Fine, I guess.”

  “Are you still working at the hardware store? Have you been visiting the club?”

  “Yes, and no.” He wandered to the window, staring out at the street.

  “Short and concise,” I replied.

  “I think they mean the same thing,” he said, barely above a whisper. Then he turned to look at me. “Why did you leave? Why didn’t you come back home?”

  “I did, long enough to close down my business.”