Kiss and Tell (Scions of Sin Book 2)

by Taylor Holloway

  “Have you ever heard the word ‘hubris’?” my brother asked snidely, “It means excessive pride. That’s what you’ve got. It made you have sex with this Ysenia chick. It got you thrown out of NASA and the Air Force. It made you build this ridiculous rocket. And it’s gonna make you blow up inside it tomorrow.”

  “Nathan’s right,” Alexander barked at David, “the potential benefits greatly outweigh the potential dangers of launching tomorrow. We’re in the middle of a commercial space race. It’s not going to be a tie. Someone’s going to win, and everyone else is going to lose.”

  “Well forgive me for not giving a fuck about the commercial space race,” David snapped, “maybe I just want my brother to survive. We could always send a different pilot.”

  “That’s all this is really about, isn’t it? You’ve been against me piloting this launch since the beginning,” I argued, trying to get David back on my side, “but can you honestly say that you think the risk is increased by this Oleg guy’s hack?”

  “I don’t know,” David admitted, “but that actually supports my point. You keep doing things that are risky and dangerous because your stupid pride won’t let you stop to consider the consequences. It’s like this Zoey girl you’re dating. I’m sure she’s nice and all, but she’s a freaking gossip columnist. There’s a good chance that situation is going to backfire, and if you thought about it for two seconds, you’d know that.”

  “Don’t you bring her into this,” I snarled nastily. “She’s the one that got me the photo of Oleg today. She’s the one who thought he was involved. We wouldn’t even know about any of this if it wasn’t for her.”

  “Maybe that’s intentional,” David proposed, grasping at straws, “maybe she’s working with him.”

  “You think Zoey is working with Oleg?” I asked, aghast, “That’s ridiculous and you’re paranoid.”

  “It isn’t,” Richard said quietly, and we both turned to look at him in surprise, “Nathan, listen to me: you’re not thinking clearly, either. Zoey—whoever the hell she is—might be involved. Oleg’s hacking might make your launch more dangerous tomorrow. A dozen flying monkeys might come flying out my ass. These all might be risks worth taking, but we need to work through them methodically and unemotionally.”

  I nodded. Richard was right, as usual—not about Zoey being involved, obviously that was bullshit—but about the rest. We did need to work through everything piece by piece, as painful as the thought was to me. Every detail of this situation needed to be examined in excruciating, precise detail. Acting impulsively was not the right way to approach business, let alone spaceflight. I’d been impulsive before and made a very bad decision. It hadn’t turned out very well for me at all. In fact, it seems that I was still dealing with the fallout.

  It was going to be a very long meeting.

  Russian Spy Found Dead in Affluent Philadelphia Suburb

  Phillip Paderewski, The Philadelphia Monitor

  In a stunning turn of events, a former Russian intelligence operative named Oleg Kuznetsov, killed himself while being pursued by police outside of Philadelphia in Waterloo, Pennsylvania. The thirty-eight-year-old Kuznetsov was impersonating Portuguese tennis player Marcus Sousa and teaching tennis at the Waterloo country club, where he had been maintaining his cover for at least four months. Police say that Kuznetsov shot himself to avoid capture.

  While impersonating Sousa, Kuznetsov had the opportunity to get close to a number of affluent members of Pennsylvanian high society. Those known to have contact with Kuznetsov include Senator Thomas Ellis and his daughter and oil heiress Angelica Hunt, with whom he appears to have cultivated a romantic relationship. He was described by co-workers as quiet, private, polite, and retiring.

  “I would have never guessed he was a Russian spy,” said groundskeeper Kevin Moynihan. “He was a bit odd, but he seemed nice enough. He offered me a sandwich one time. I thought he was a Mexican. I guess you never can tell about somebody.”

  Kuznetsov, who according to the Kremlin was a former diplomatic employee, had left their employ over two years ago, and was not in the United States on their orders. In a rare show of international cooperation, the Kremlin has provided the United States with extensive intelligence on Kuznetsov, a man that they describe as “a dangerous criminal”.

  In a written statement released this afternoon the FBI asserts that Kuznetsov was involved the recent hack of Durant Astronautics, although his exact role has not yet been established.

  “We are very pleased that our investigation has revealed the true culprit behind the cyberattack we suffered on Monday,” Durant Astronautics Security Director Cecelia Salina told reporters this evening. “Like everyone else, we are deeply disturbed that such a dangerous man was able to slip into the United States and commit a crime like this.”

  The gossip world is also on fire with speculation about Oleg Kuznetsov, who is rumored to be the husband of Ysenia Antonova, the Russian cosmonaut with whom Durant Astronautics CEO Nathan Breyer had a sexual assignation with aboard the International Space Station four years ago. These rumors are as-yet unconfirmed but may provide a motive behind the crime.

  Regardless of the controversy surrounding Oleg Kuznetsov and his connections to Durant Astronautics, the commercial space travel giant has confirmed that tomorrow’s launch has not been scrapped.

  “Weather permitting, I have every expectation that our first, manned test of the Starflier 1 module will proceed on schedule,” said CEO and test pilot, Nathan Breyer, “I’m looking forward to seeing beautiful Philadelphia from thirty-three thousand feet tomorrow afternoon.”

  Tomorrow’s manned test launch will set a new benchmark for companies in the commercial space race. It will also be a step forward for a company that has rapidly become the frontrunner in that race, launching three unmanned tests of the Starflier 1 already this year.

  32

  Zoey

  The package arrived at almost nine p.m. that night, after my interview with the Picayune. I opened it excitedly since I hardly ever received packages, especially gigantic ones that were hand delivered by polite, uniform-wearing special couriers. Most of the mail I received were bills, so anything different felt special.

  Inside, I found a present: a dozen red roses from Nathan, a VIP badge for the launch tomorrow, and a handwritten note. I’d seen the newest revelation about ‘Marcus’, but I hadn’t received a text or a call from Nathan in hours. I was starting to get worried. His statement that appeared in the monitor’s piece this evening must be wrong. I read over Nathan’s precise writing with a sick feeling, hoping the badge was a joke…

  Dear Zoey,

  I’m so sorry I rushed off so quickly at lunch. The photo you sent was of a guy named Oleg Kuznetsov, I know you’ve probably already seen the news about it. I hope you understand why I was acting was weird when I found out. I’ve been really tied up this afternoon, so I hope you will accept the flowers in lieu of a call. I just wanted you to know that I’m not intentionally avoiding you. I’m writing this at eight p.m. and am switching off my phone after this to get some sleep before the launch.

  You’re probably not going to be happy that I’m going forward with the launch tomorrow. My brother isn’t happy either—in fact, he’s furious with me, so maybe you will be, too. I’m enclosing a VIP badge so you can come see the launch tomorrow if you have time and want to go. We didn’t talk about it, so I understand that you might have other plans on Friday.

  I also want you to know that I’m sorry for being a jerk, since I know I’ve not been the greatest over the last few days and you’ve been really patient. I’m falling in love with you and want for us to find a way to make this work. If you’re disgusted with me for going ahead with the launch and think I’m crazy like my brother does, I’ll understand if you don’t want to see me again. But if you feel the same way, I hope I see you tomorrow.

  Love,

  Nathan

  I re-read the note a dozen times, feeling like I was riding some kind
of nightmare rollercoaster each time I went through it. First, he says he’s sorry for rushing off, then he says don’t call me, then he says come see me launch myself into space, then he says he loves me? Did he really just say he loves me? Maybe he’s just gone off the rails from stress? Who even writes letters anymore?

  Nathan was everything I wanted in a man, but he clearly also came with some serious baggage, like the fact his profession involved launching himself into space. The more he let me see of him, the more I wanted, but the more the little voice in my head screamed he was only going to break my heart. I technically had no right to tell him not to launch tomorrow or get in the way of his dreams, but he was putting me through the emotional wringer. He had to know that there was a lot of risk involved with tomorrow’s launch. Marcus-Oleg could have done something we didn’t know about, or maybe the rocket just didn’t work. I wasn’t sure I was equal to this challenge.

  Nathan could die tomorrow. What if I loved him? I had no idea what to do with my feelings, or even how to identify them anymore. I needed to plan to deal with Nathan, and fast. Everything was just all jumbled up in my head.

  Right now, I missed Nathan, but I needed Nika and her shift didn’t end until ten p.m. I paced around my apartment looking at the two bouquets of flowers I’d accumulated over the past three days and feeling lightheaded. Ordinarily I’d break out the wine right about now, but I was not going to repeat my past mistakes. Self-medicating with alcohol was clearly not a good plan for me. The temporary numbness wasn’t worth the ensuing headache. But, the whole day had been completely insane, and I desperately wanted a distraction. This note was just the icing on top of the crazy cake.

  My interview with the Picayune had been successful. At least, it had seemed successful from my perspective. They were looking for a young, investigative correspondent to cover important local and national issues. Someone not too seasoned but not too green, and with loads of enthusiasm and energy. In other words, they were looking for me. I could only hope I’d shown them that. The JuicyNews blight on my resume notwithstanding, I still had a decent portfolio and a great degree. If they gave me the job, I’d work my ass off for them. I’d type my fingers to the bone to do good work again, but I knew appearing desperate would only make me look crazy. I think I managed to come off as professional and poised instead of the broke, starving millennial I was. Now all I could do was wait to hear if I got it.

  My other piece of unresolved business, JuicyNews, happened to Skype call just then, granting my wish for a distraction in the most unpleasant way possible. I considered not even answering and just letting Julieta fire me over email for ghosting her, but my professional pride wouldn’t allow it. You’re supposed to resign in a professional way, everyone knows that. Even though I never wanted to work in tabloids again, it was also never smart to burn bridges. I sat down and smoothed my hair reluctantly before angling the camera at myself and accepting the call.

  “Good evening Julieta,” I answered coolly, not bothering with my usual false enthusiasm, “how are you?”

  “Hi Zoey!” Julieta replied as joyfully as ever, flashing her unscrupulous crocodile smile, “I think you might have sent over the wrong draft of your Angelica feature darling, do me a favor and double check?”

  “No, that’s the right one,” I said, smirking and shaking my head, “That’s the one I want you to publish.”

  “My goodness, Zoey,” Julieta said, her eyes widening to show a slim ring of white all the way around her pale blue irises, “I underestimated you tremendously. Do you already have the tape of you and Breyer? Going all out in a feud with Angelica Hunt will be a hell of a debut into the public sphere. It’s a brilliant play. I’ve got a manager you need to meet right away- Derek is gonna love you. You’re going to be a star.”

  Julieta thought I was doing what? What kind of parallel reality did she live in that she thought I would not only make the sex tape she asked for after explicitly refusing, and then get into a public spat with Angelica Hunt to launch my ‘new career’. I don’t think I would survive a week in Julieta’s world, and I definitely didn’t want to meet Derek. I rolled my eyes at Julieta and barked a little strangled laugh once I got over the shock.

  “I think you misunderstand me, Julieta,” I finally answered her, using my most condescending and sharp voice to drive my point home, “there will be no sex tape. This piece is my swan song at JuicyNews. I’m moving on. Thank you for the opportunity to write for you, but it’s time.”

  “How much did that bitch at People offer you for the tape? We’ll double it,” Julieta snapped in a totally different voice (this one had a slight Boston accent). Her eyebrows drew together furiously, and her happy persona disappeared like some kind of weird magic trick. Was this her real voice? Was this the real Julieta? Who the hell have I been dealing with all this time? My mouth fell open in shock.

  “No one offered me anything for the tape because there is no tape,” I managed, baffled by the abrupt change in Julieta but readier than ever to cut ties. “I’m going back to traditional journalism. Effective immediately. Again, I truly appreciate the opportunities that JuicyNews has provided over-”

  “Ugh, save it,” Julieta snapped, “I don’t know what little game you’re running, girl, but if anyone gets that tape but us, you’re going to regret it. You’d better hope there’s no tape. You know what? I’ll run your piece as-is, because if there is a tape, and you pick this fight with Angelica Hunt, I’m going to make you look like the world’s biggest whore. I will smear you into a bloody pulp if you double cross me.”

  Julieta’s face had gone beet red, and she was seething with an intensity I’d never seen in her. Her bobble head platinum haircut was literally vibrating, and she looked unhinged. Julieta’s sugary sweet candy coating had cracked and what was inside was dark and deeply unsettling. I wanted to get away from her immediately. She was truly frightening, and I had never been gladder that we were sitting on opposite sides of the country.

  “Um, thanks?” I said, still reeling and somewhat confused, “You did hear me say there’s no sex tape right? Because there’s no sex tape. No. Sex. Tape. I don’t do stuff like that, because I’m not a conniving whore. I’m not cut out for the gossip business, clearly, or the business of being gossip, either. I don’t just run around and ruin lives for fun and profit. See you around Julieta.”

  I hung up the call and hoped I hadn’t just wrecked my entire life. That bridge was thoroughly and officially burned. Maybe I was going to regret it, but it sure had felt good.

  33

  Nathan

  Launch day. The manned launch had been on my mental calendar for four years and on my business plan for two, but this was the first time it had ever appeared on the schedule that Paul gave me. I stared at my phone in awe, lying on my back in bed at six a.m.

  I’d had to fight tooth and nail against my family to get them to agree to this. In the end it wasn’t their decision, but we ordinarily tried to come to a consensus over important issues, and I did value their input (despite the headaches that came with it). Alexander had been on my side the entire time, and eventually I’d won over Richard, but my stubborn brother was another story entirely. He stormed out after about three hours of discussion, telling me that he’d piss on my grave if I died over something so stupid.

  David was just being sentimental and obstinate. This was his irritating version of trying to protect me. Unfortunately, he’d roped our parents into his little scheme and after finally winning my uncles’ approval and heading home, I’d instantly been drawn into a second battle with my parents. Predictably, mom and dad were on David’s side when they called. By eight p.m. I’d won them over. David remained unconvinced, but there was no way I could continue to talk to another human being. Feeling exhausted and overwhelmed, I’d scribbled a note and sent a courier off to Zoey’s before collapsing into bed.

  Yesterday had royally sucked, but all the familial disapproval in the world meant nothing now, because it was launch day. It was
on Paul’s schedule, so it was real. I felt like a kid and it was my birthday, the first day of summer, Christmas and every other holiday, all rolled up into one. Today I was going to space in my own freaking rocket ship. How many people on this planet can say that? Exactly one. Me.

  I was still staring rapturously at my schedule when my phone’s morning alarm went off and I almost dropped it onto my face. Giving myself a black eye would have certainly been some sort of bad omen. Plus, it would look bad in my victory pictures.

  Rising carefully to avoid any additional negligent injuries, I padded through my quiet apartment, missing Zoey. I’d wanted to go over to her place last night, but I didn’t want to fight with her. I figured this way I’d find out how she felt about me. She’d either come to the launch and we’d kiss and make up, or I’d never see her again.

  Was it cowardly to confess my feelings in a letter? Maybe. I’d never done anything remotely like this before, so it was all uncharted territory. For all I knew, it was more romantic. I had no idea what I was doing. Which is why when she called while I was shaving, I almost didn’t answer.

  “Hi Zoey,” I answered carefully, fearing having to justify my decision yet again, or worse her telling me to fuck off forever, “how are you?”

  “Good morning Nathan,” her sweet, pleasant voice answered, “I was afraid to call you this early, but I wanted to make sure I got to talk to you before the launch. Thank you for the flowers you sent last night, they’re lovely and that was very sweet.”

  She wasn’t going to argue with me? I set my razor down and stared in disbelief at my reflection, trying to figure out if she was being genuine or lulling me into complacency before she struck. Spending so much time with my scheming family yesterday had me on high alert. I tried to remind myself that Zoey wasn’t a Durant or a Breyer (yet).