by Knight, JJ
I’d still like you on my team. More on that later. Please tell your sister, in strictest confidence, that certain events are transpiring. These events are troubling, but not entirely unexpected. I knew this day would come. Tell Jessica that she is in my thoughts. If she demonstrates loyalty to the company, the company will reward her abundantly.
Carter Morris.
I hand her back the phone. “Mr. Morris is so weird,” I say, shaking my head.
“He’s formal, but sweet,” Riley says. “I think he’s lonely. And he does have nice green eyes.” She sticks her tongue out, like even she is disgusted at what she’s saying.
“Gross, Riley. He’s so old. What is it with you and older guys? You have a sick fetish or something.”
She narrows her eyes and gives me an evil look. “Drop it, Jess.” She turns to Dylan and explains to him, “I slept with her favorite teacher. Big whoop. People make mistakes.”
Dylan’s eyes dart between us. He looks completely lost.
“We’ve all made mistakes,” he says.
Riley tucks the phone away. “I’m not going to reply to his messages,” she says, turning to walk out. “I hope that makes you happy. But I won’t dump him outright. I want him to look after you. Someone has to.”
“Hang on, wait. You should keep talking to him, but just talking. You know I can use all the inside info I can get.”
Riley walks back over to me and whispers in my ear, “Is it okay to talk about this in front of Dylan?”
“He’s my boyfriend.”
She looks over at him. Dylan nods.
She gives me an eyebrow raise, then leaves my bedroom.
Dylan and I are alone for a few seconds. He asks, “What’s with the secret message stuff?”
My whole body feels weak, like I haven’t eaten in days. I pull my chair away from the desk and take a seat.
“There’s some weird corporate stuff going on at Morris that I haven’t told you about.”
He sits up and moves to the edge of the bed, so our knees are nearly touching. We’re both completely dressed now, which makes it easier for me to talk.
“Corporate stuff that concerns me?” he asks.
“Remember when we talked about your guy, Q? And how I think he’s a former Morris employee? That he’s David Ambler?”
Dylan frowns. “Of course. And I said it makes total sense, because he knows so much about how Morris operates. How is this a problem?”
“What I didn’t tell you… is that he might be working with some other people who are still at the company. There’s a reason they wanted to sign a big money deal with you. They wanted to put the company into a financial problem, so they could buy it out and take over.”
I shake my head, staring down at Dylan’s knees because I can’t meet his eyes.
I continue, “The whole deal with you is just to create this opportunity.”
Dylan makes a disgusted sound. “That’s just ridiculous, Jess. They signed the deal with me because I had competing offers from other companies. I was in a bidding war. They signed the deal because they believe in me. In my talent.”
My breath catches in my throat. There’s so much contempt in his voice. He’s repulsed that I would even suggest the deal is about anything but his music.
I stammer, “Of-of course they believe in you. Of course, Dylan. That’s not what I meant at all. But there’s always other stuff going on.”
He gets up from my bed. He holds out his hand to help me up.
Coldly, he says, “Stuff that’s none of my business. And none of yours, by the sound of it.”
“But… the text message.”
“That old guy’s just trying to bang your sister.”
I stand before him, looking up into his face.
Dylan’s brown eyes are dark as night. His anger simmers just below the surface.
“Your sister can do whatever she wants,” he says.
“I know. It’s not about that.”
“Let go of the past,” he says. “Riley was way younger than you are now when she lived with you.”
I shake my head. He doesn’t get it.
“Riley and I are fine. We’re not going to be all lovey-dovey, having lunches together and getting along perfectly. But we’re good enough. I don’t know how long she’ll be in my life this time, and I don’t care.”
“You sound so cold.” He frowns down at me. “Don’t be cold, Jess.”
I stand up on my toes and kiss him.
“Never with you,” I say. “I have to protect myself sometimes, so I don’t get hurt, but not with you.”
He reaches out and smoothes down my long, brown hair, sweeping it behind my ear.
With a mysterious expression, he says, “Sometimes we do the wrong things, for the right reasons.”
“What are you talking about?”
As soon as I ask the question, I regret asking. I don’t want to know the answer.
He turns away for a moment, then back to me. The anger is simmering. Is he still thinking about me insulting his music? I wish I could take that back, or say it differently. I love that he cares about his work, but there’s so much I don’t understand about musicians.
“Dylan, I’m sorry about what I said. About the money. They wouldn’t have offered you the deal if they didn’t believe in you.”
He shakes his head. “Forget about that.”
“What’s wrong?”
“I keep seeing you get thrown to the sidewalk,” he says grimly. “They’ll be playing that viral video of me at every appearance. I’ll relive that moment over and over. I felt so helpless when the guy pushed you to the ground. It makes me sick to see the footage.”
“But that was before we even knew each other. And you didn’t know he was going to rob the wrong girl until he did. It wasn’t so bad. I got bumped in the eye, but I was fine.”
“And then—.” His voice squeaks to a halt, like his throat is too tight to speak. “Then I took you into that old house. I left you in the dark. I hurt you, Jess. You’re innocent. You’re my angel, and I keep hurting you.”
“But you protected me both times. You got my wallet back, and… you protected me.”
He reaches up and holds my face with both hands.
“Jess, you’re worried about the future. About what happens next. So am I. There are demons in my past, and I can’t shake the feeling there’s more of the same in the future. I just hope it doesn’t hit you.”
“Don’t talk like that. We’re going to be fine.”
“I shouldn’t have told you anything about Q. I honestly thought you were working for him. That’s the only reason I said anything. But you’ve got to put it all out of your mind. Don’t talk about him. Don’t even think about him. He doesn’t exist.”
“What?”
He nods his head closer to mine, so our foreheads are touching.
“Q doesn’t exist,” he says.
“Are you saying you made the whole thing up? Dylan, what are you saying? I don’t understand.”
He pulls away, looking over at the clock radio.
“We need to get going,” he says. “I’ll give you a ride to work.”
My thoughts are a jumble.
I grab my purse, as well as my bag, with the Morris photos inside.
Dylan leaves my bedroom and says goodbye to Riley on his way out. I can’t hear what they’re saying, but they talk for a bit.
I’m in such a daze, I don’t know what way is up.
The expensive key necklace is still sitting out on my bed. Wearing the necklace would show my loyalty to Morris, I think.
Is that what Carter Morris wants?
I grab the chain, but my hands are too shaky to work the clasp, so I slip it into my pocket.
Chapter 3
Dylan gives me a ride to work.
I ask him a few more questions, but he refuses to talk about Q.
“Let’s talk about trains,” he says, changing the topic. “I wish I could take the train to New York, but I’d mis
s my appearances.”
My mind switches over from Q to the idea of Dylan being on TV.
“I’ll miss you, but I guess I’ll watch you on TV.”
“You’d better watch me. I’ll know if you aren’t.”
“Are you installing spycams in my house?”
“It was just a joke, Jess.” He chuckles and looks over at me, taking his eyes off the traffic to give me a funny look. “You could get a webcam, though. Leave it on so I can make sure you’re sleeping alone while I’m gone.”
“Hah! Very funny.”
He pulls up in front of Morris Music. I look over at the glass doors to the building. A panicky feeling rises in my chest. I don’t want to go in there.
“Ugh. Mondays,” I say.
He leans over and kisses me on the cheek. “I’ll see you this weekend. Promise to stay exactly this beautiful for me.” He sniffs my hair. “And smell this good.”
“Don’t forget about me,” I say jokingly. “Don’t find another groupie.”
He leans over even more. He buries his nose in my hair and inhales deeply.
“You are going to miss me,” I tease.
“Hey, what do you say we go find an underground parking spot, somewhere secluded?” His voice is husky and sexy.
My fingers are on the door handle, but my body wants to stay with him. We could push the seat all the way back again.
His hand slides up my leg slowly.
“Whaddaya say?” he growls.
I pull the handle and pop the door open. If he’s not going to invite me to New York with him, I’m not going to let him make me late for work.
“See you this weekend,” I say cheerfully as I step out.
He gives me a sad look.
I blow him a kiss, then turn and walk up to the building.
As I pull open the glass door, I hear tires squealing as Dylan drives away. Shaking my head, I walk in and start the process of getting through security.
The security guards are the usual crew, with their serious mustaches and serious sense of authority. They seem to be on edge today, like they’re being watched. I glance around, trying to figure out what’s different. The lobby is tidier than usual. I don’t see any coffee takeout cups or half-eaten bagels.
I hold out my keycard for visual inspection, then run it through the machine and walk through the metal detector. The detector beeps, detecting something. Two other security guards come over to join the one glaring at me.
“Was it my necklace?” I pull the fancy key pendant from my pocket. I hand it over to the nearest guy and walk through the detector again. No beep.
I take my necklace back and work the clasp to quickly put it on.
“You guys are jumpy today,” I say to the three of them.
They exchange a knowing look, and then disperse.
I walk over to the elevator. The tallest guard, whose name I believe is Eugene, comes over to stand beside me. Without moving his lips, he quietly says, “Keep your eyes open today.”
I keep staring straight ahead, and whisper, “What’s going on? Is there a security threat? Maybe I’ll just go home. My stomach hurts.”
“We don’t know what’s happening,” he says. “Except… you didn’t hear it from me, but I understand some financial accounts have been frozen. Word is there are going to be some layoffs today. Just on the Morris floors, not the other tenants.”
I turn and look up at him. “Everyone’s getting laid off?”
He pulls a rag from his pocket and pretends to be cleaning fingerprints off the metal frame of the elevator door.
Out of the corner of his mouth, he says, “I just signed a mortgage. My wife and I are having a baby. Let me know if you hear anything.”
“Congratulations. And I’m sure you’ll be fine.”
The elevator doors open.
The security guard shakes the rag out, snapping it. “We’ll see.”
I step in and press the button for the basement.
Whatever’s happening must be related to the text message from Mr. Morris. He might be trying to sleep with my sister, but the whole thing is so odd. Is he just bored, and playing games with his employees for fun? He shouldn’t even care about a low-level employee like me.
At least someone cares.
I’m spooked by what the guard said. I’d probably turn and run right back out again, if not for the message from Mr. Morris. He said for me to keep working.
The doors open, and I step into the land of dusty boxes.
“Good morning,” Nick says.
“Is it, Nick? Is it a good morning? What the hell is going on around here?”
Nick looks up from his desk and blinks at me, his pale blue eyes revealing nothing. By now, I’m so used to the piercings in his face that I barely see them.
“The security guys are all skittish,” I say. “One of them said the company’s accounts are being frozen.”
“Yes. I planted that misinformation.”
“It’s not true?”
“The thing about misinformation is there’s a little bit of truth and a little bit of lie, and that’s the secret.”
I drop my bag on the table, dig out the stack of photos, and plunk them in front of Nick.
“Speaking of truth and lies, why were you hiding these pictures?”
He snatches up the stack and starts flipping through the decade-old photos. “You stole these,” he grumbles.
“They were in a box you didn’t want me to see.”
“Jessica, what have you done?” A hint of emotion creeps into his voice. He sounds upset.
“Nothing. I looked at the pictures. Why were you hiding them from me?”
“I should have burned all these photos. I told the photographer I didn’t want to be in these. I look revolting. You shouldn’t have taken these. Did you scan copies? I thought we were friends.”
I lean across the two desks and grab the photos from his hands.
“What are you talking about, Nick? Are you trying to tell me you were hiding these from me just because you’re a bit pudgy in these old pictures?”
“A bit pudgy? I’m disgusting.”
“Stop lying to me!” I yell.
His eyes widen, and his jaw clenches shut.
“Tell me the whole truth for once!” My voice sounds crazy as it echoes around the basement archives. “Nick. You hid these pictures because David Ambler is in them, and you didn’t want me to know that he’s Q. He’s the guy who’s been helping Dylan this whole time. Stop lying to me! This job doesn’t pay enough for me to take all the lies, on top of everything!”
Nick is very still, like a statue. He doesn’t even look like he’s breathing.
After a moment, he very slowly tilts his head, until he’s looking up at the ceiling. He rubs his chin, then nods.
“That makes sense,” he says. “She said it was for the restaurant, but I should have known.”
I bite my lower lip, waiting for him to say more.
Dylan told me there was no Q.
But I think he just said it because he was worried about me getting in trouble. He didn’t convince me. I may not have proof, but I can feel it in my bones that Q is real.
Nick keeps nodding. He’s still looking up at the ceiling, like he can see through all the floors, right up to his mother’s office.
“She fired him,” he says. “That was a nice touch. Carter Morris has always been suspicious of David Ambler, but that was a stroke of brilliance.”
“Maggie Clark and David Ambler are friends?”
Nick lets out a startled laugh. I don’t think I’ve heard him laugh before. It’s an eerie sound.
“They despise each other,” he says. “Which is why it’s so brilliant.” He blinks and gazes evenly into my eyes. “The enemy of my enemy is my friend.”
I get a chill through my spine.
“Nick, what am I?”
“You’re my friend. When the dust settles, you’ll still have a job, and it won’t be down here.”
“Fine, but what’s going to happen to Dylan, and his deal?”
“I’m sorry.”
“Sorry you won’t tell me? Or sorry it’s bad?”
“The deal will be cancelled as soon as the takeover happens. The company can’t afford all the deals it’s been making lately. It’s the hubris of Carter Morris that’s bringing down the house of cards. His pride has destroyed this company.”
“How long does Dylan have?”
“Jess, he’s not some poor farm kid fresh off the plane. He’ll land on his feet. He can keep trying. He’s got a few years left before his looks start to go, assuming he can stay away from all the things rock stars love.”
“But he wants this. He wants to go on tour.”
Nick blinks and stares at me like I’m an idiot. “Unheard of,” he says sarcastically. “Someone comes to LA with dreams of seeing their name in lights? Say it ain’t so.”
“You’re an asshole.”
“At least I’ll be a rich asshole soon.”
“What if the takeover doesn’t happen? What if Mr. Morris figures out what’s happening and gets… I don’t know… some other financing?”
Nick’s lip piercing wiggles as he flicks it thoughtfully with his tongue.
“You wouldn’t breathe a word,” he says.
I start to say something about it being too late, and that Mr. Morris already knows, but I stop myself. Whether he actually knows or not, information is the only thing I have.
I already gave away the identity of Q, trying to flush out the truth from Nick. I’m not quite ready to give up everything.
“Of course I wouldn’t,” I say carefully. “Carter Morris gives me the creeps. He’s pure evil.” I shudder to sell Nick on my half-lie. Like good misinformation, there’s some truth to it.
“The devil has white hair and green eyes.”
“And you’re right about Dylan,” I say. “He’s rich. He doesn’t need this deal. He can get another one. The music makes him happy, and that’s all that matters.”
“I’ll see what I can do.” Nick’s voice softens. “We might change some of the dollar amounts, but Morris Music can do a lot for Dylan Wolf, and vice versa. It’s not over until it’s over.”
“Thanks, Nick.”
I want to believe him. When he talks to me like this, I genuinely believe we are friends.
