by K B Cinder
“What are you talking about?” I asked, taking a step back.
Click. “You went to the Lorelei event with Ever. You’re his girlfriend. At least that’s what the Bold says this morning.” Click. Click. Click. With every click of the camera, I sympathized with celebrities that smashed them.
“The Bold said what?” Had Rick published some bullcrap story about us as payback for Ethan hitting him?
“Rick Gray’s latest expose is on Ever. He traced him to Boston. Says it’s the guy in the pictures with you.” He pulled his cell from his pocket, tapping a few times before flipping the screen toward me, the Bold’s latest headline loud and clear: Ever Unmasked: Local Man Pinned as Elusive Painter. The page was littered with pictures of Ethan going about life: jogging on the waterfront, arriving at the Lorelei event, kissing me in Bowie’s.
My heart dropped, realizing Rick followed Ethan to me. He was only interested in talking to me to get information. That’s why he made a point to say he was a writer, not a reporter. He thought I knew something.
I blinked stupidly, unsure of what I knew. Ethan couldn’t be Ever. Ever was everything Ethan hated in the world. Rich. Flashy. Blunt.
He didn’t even like art.
The memory of the video call flashed before my eyes along with the camera, a shirtless Ethan with paint splattered across his chest. What had he said he was doing? Painting a bathroom?
“I think they need to lay off the grass,” I breathed automatically with an eye roll, slapping the thought out of my head. They were out of their minds. They had to be. Ethan was a tech nerd, not a painter.
“Are you denying the report?” Click.
“Emphatically.” I pushed past him, my long strides forcing the much-shorter paparazzo to quickstep.
A block into the walk, we were joined by another man with oily hair slicked back in a long, blond ponytail. He, too, snapped away, so I popped a middle finger next to my face, sure to ruin each shot. Not only were they taking photos of a useless subject, but they weren’t even going to be printable.
Another block introduced two more, pedestrians now gaping at me as if I were someone famous -not just an anonymous girl on the street in search of caffeine. The attention made me hyper-conscious of every move, memories of my childhood rushing back, the same sinking feeling I’d felt on the stage during my pageant days gnawing at my gut.
Once I reached the coffee shop, I slammed the door and set the lock, the barista shooting me a worried look. “Ma’am, you can’t…”
“Please,” I choked out, chest heaving. I turned to look back at the street, at least ten figures with cameras waiting outside the door. “I just need a caramel latte, and I’ll be on my way.”
She nodded, every customer now gaping at me. A few had cell phones out, some taking pictures, while others freely filmed me while I paced like a caged animal. “Would you stop? I’m no one!” I growled. “The Bold made a mistake. Expect a big, fat apology and correction tomorrow.”
One of the camera-toting vermin shook the handle of the door trying to get inside, the barista nervously fumbling with machinery as she went about making my drink. She was as scared as I was.
“I’m sorry,” I offered. And I was. She was just trying to work. She didn’t need to deal with my problems.
“It’s okay.” But it wasn’t. Her hands were shaking as she worked. The poor thing was terrified.
I turned, seeing that at least another dozen bodies joined the waiting mob outside. Tears burned, panic setting in. There was no way I could get away from them. “Do you have another exit?”
She shook her head, but the red exit sign in the back caught my eye. I stayed quiet while she finished my drink, my phone buzzing.
Ethan: Get in the black Tahoe.
I glanced out at the street, the large, black SUV parked on the opposite side, windows completely tinted.
How do you know where I am?
My hands were shaking as I typed, the men outside leaning against the glass with their cameras pointed at me. The mob seemed to grow by the second.
Ethan: Listen to me. You’ll be safe.
I stuffed my phone back in my pocket and hurried to the counter, fingers rapping on the stone as I waited, desperately attempting to keep my cool. As soon as she handed me the drink I slid her a twenty. “Keep the change.”
I strolled toward the bathroom, all eyes still on me, before crashing through the exit, the alarm overhead wailing as I did. I spilled into the unfamiliar alley, but I didn’t care. I was free.
I took off, using every bit of my five-foot-nine frame to propel myself forward, throwing my latte as I did. It felt like a sin to ditch it, but it would only slow me down.
When I reached the sidewalk, I knew I was caught, the pounding of feet sounding to my left. I ignored it, crossing the street, nearly meeting my end via taxi cab in the process.
I lost a flat in the frenzy and kicked off the other shoe to maintain my speed, running barefooted down the sidewalk while the mob was in hot pursuit. I didn’t look back, keeping my eyes fixed on the distance, spying the Tahoe on the opposite side of the road ahead. I tested fate again by dipping back into traffic, tears running down my face as I did.
As I approached, a massive man jumped out of the back seat of the SUV, a beast who looked like he could crush me like a bug with a shaved head and handlebar mustache. I didn’t care. I launched myself at him, and he climbed into the running car with me still wrapped around him like a koala, the driver taking off as soon as the door shut.
I was buckled in the center seat before I knew what happened, and when I looked to the front I was horrified not to see Ethan. I scanned the whole vehicle and felt my heart plummet when I realized he wasn’t there.
“How did you…?” I trailed, terror sinking in my bones as I scanned the interior. Holy shit. They could be kidnappers for all I knew.
“Mr. Barrett,” the man to my left replied as he rubbed a hand along his mustache. “I was coming to pick you up when you surprised me and came out first. Sorry you had to experience that.”
“Where are we going?” I asked, watching the city zip by as we headed north - the opposite direction of my apartment.
“Seaport,” he replied.
The driver paid me no mind, eyes fixated on the road ahead as he cut off cars left and right. He was nearly as large as the man next to me, a handgun strapped to his muscled thigh.
I looked back out the window, anxiety skyrocketing upon seeing the gun. Seaport? What the hell was in Seaport? Docks? Piers? Were they going to stow me away on a barge somewhere? “I don’t live in Seaport.”
“I know.” The man sat like a boulder beside me, a sharp turn all it would take to flatten me. He was as emotive as one, too, face as frozen as slate.
“So, where are we going?” I wasn’t going to blindly head to some mystery destination, even if Ethan did set it up.
“Mr. Barrett asked us to take you to his home.”
I wanted to argue he lived in South Boston like he’d always said, but it seemed like I didn’t know anything about the man I considered a friend for two years. “Who are you?”
“Private security.”
Where did Ethan get money for bodyguards?
“Sorry I jumped on you.” Regardless of how big the man was, it had to hurt to have me plow into him at full speed.
“It’s okay. I understand.”
“They came out of nowhere,” I breathed, brushing tears from my cheeks. “Like a swarm of hornets.”
“You’re safe now.” The boulder patted my knee gently with a huge hand, brown eyes looking me over from head to toe. “Are you okay? Did they hurt you?”
“I’m fine. Just scared.” More tears broke through the dam as I admitted the fear, shocked I was trusting my life essentially to two strangers.
“Mr. Barrett’s home is secure. He asks that you stay on the premises. We will be posted outside.”
“I have a job…” I trailed. Not to mention school, my laptop and book
s still in my apartment.
“Taken care of.”
I turned to face him, feeling the color drain from my face. “What do you mean taken care of?”
“A leave of absence was requested.”
“I need to work! I have bills to pay!” I didn’t know whether to cry or scream. I worked hard to take care of myself. I didn’t need Ethan mucking that up.
“Taken care of.”
Rage ran through my blood, so much that my hands shook as I wiped furiously at the tears. “He had no right.”
“I know it’s hard, but it’s been handled, Miss. It isn’t safe for you to go about your normal routine right now.”
“They’ll go away, right?” They had to. Rick would be more than embarrassed when he had to issue a formal apology. God knows I’d demand one. Maybe even a televised one. Knowing Ethan, he’d want one nailed with Rick’s balls to Fenway Park for all to see.
“In time. They follow the headlines. Right now, you’re a hot commodity.”
“The whole thing is stupid,” I muttered with an eye roll. “How can they take one man’s word? I’ve seen a million Ever Uncovered articles over the years. Do they stalk each and every one of them?”
All the boulder mustered as a response was a grunt, attention fixed on the outside world through the tinted glass. I was probably chattier than his usual clientele, but I didn’t care.
“Will Ethan be there?” Going to his place alone felt strange, especially if I was going to be there awhile.
The boulder shrugged, another cue he was done with my game of fifty questions.
So I pulled my cell out of my pocket, a river of notifications already draining my phone to sixty-percent. Great.
Mom: WHERE ARE YOU? CALL ME.
Dad: Keely, please answer your phone. Your mother and I are worried sick. Please come home.
Jorge: Girl. I leave town and the shit hits the fan. Spill the tea, mama.
Rick: Call me.
I stared at Rick’s text, rage escaping a cage deep inside. How dare he. He had me cornered by a pack of hungry dogs. He put me and Ethan in danger for his own benefit.
I expect a full redaction and apology immediately, or you’ll be hearing from my attorneys.
I wanted to throw a whole lot of f-bombs in there, but now that I knew what he was, I wouldn’t give him more ammunition to run with. I didn’t even have an attorney, let alone several, but hopefully he wouldn’t call me on my bluff.
I flipped through the other texts, mainly pleas from my parents, both of whom I hadn’t spoken with since leaving in tears. Honestly, I didn’t want to either. Mom was likely having a meltdown over the Ever headline.
There were a few from Bridget, who I fired a I’m fine, call ya later text to, not wanting to keep a pregnant woman worrying. But there were no more texts from Ethan.
So I sent one to him, owing him for saving me in my time of need, even if he did come across like a creepy stalker at the time.
Thank you.
I watched the screen, eagerly awaiting something in response for the rest of the ride, but nothing came.
The next time I looked up, we were pulling into an underground parking garage, the entire vehicle dipping into darkness. We passed luxury cars galore before reaching a closed garage door, the driver punching in a code before it raised. Inside, we parked beside a silver Mercedes coupe, both men leaping out of the vehicle when it came to a stop.
I followed, awkwardly spilling out onto the concrete, the private bay housing just the two vehicles despite having at least ten parking slots. The bodyguards were already halfway to what appeared to be elevator doors, so I hurried to catch up, the concrete cool beneath my bare feet. I peeked at the bottom of one and cringed, the skin filthy from running through the streets barefoot.
The driver tapped in another code and the elevator doors parted, the three of us stepping in while he entered yet another series of numbers into a pin pad once inside. Jesus. Where were we going? Fort Knox? The doors closed and the elevator began its ascent, the journey as quiet as the car ride.
Every floor felt like a lifetime as I watched the numbers tick by, the doors opening into what appeared to be a lobby, nothing but marble as far as I could see. It was cold as I stepped onto it, and I felt guilty putting my filthy feet on something so pristine. But the men trudged forward, so I didn’t have a chance to worry about it.
We stopped at a solid black door, the high-gloss finish showing our reflections, me looking impossibly small between two colossal bodies. Another code led to our entry, the open door slapping me in the face with a scene I’d seen before, the same backdrop as the night of my video call with Ethan.
Huge windows lined every wall, offering water views I hadn’t known were possible in the city. The white marble of the lobby carried inside, though subtle touches made the place feel less like a museum and more like a home from photos dotting the walls to textured throw pillows on the colossal sectional in the distance. As I got closer, I realized the photos were family ones dotted with Ethan, some with two other men I assumed were his brothers, others with an elderly couple when he was young.
My guts twisted, the reality settling in. This was Ethan’s home. He’d lied to me that night on the phone.
What else had he lied about?
Ethan
The media coverage was heavier than I anticipated, the press descending on Boston like locusts. A few leads were circling, though nothing concrete or damning surfaced. What did, however, sent me over the edge.
A clip of Kee aired on the nightly news, her leaving her apartment in her regular t-shirt and jeans, hair its usual mass of bouncing curls. She rapidly went from surprised to terrified, a group of paparazzi pinning her in a coffeeshop as the guards had relayed earlier. Actually seeing it with my own eyes was unbearable. I wanted to charge through the mob to rescue her, smashing them one by one. They had no right to snare her in a trap, filming her while she cried, scared out of her mind while they waited like rabid dogs.
It was too much.
I was still waiting to hear from my attorneys, the mountain of paperwork they filed that morning trickling into the hands of other lawyers, an atomic bomb unleashed on everyone in my path. They might have had the upper hand initially with the Bold article catching me off-guard, but my scorched Earth approach would leave no wrongdoer standing when I was through with them.
While the attorneys handled their end, I handled mine, sending a letter to the Lorelei from Bali, a handwritten taunt added for good measure. All it took was signing into a site and poof Ever was almost eight-thousand miles away from London and ten-thousand from Boston. That left plenty of time to focus on the intricacies of the next release, one that would blow Boston’s out of the water.
The security team I put in place reported back that Kee was safely in the penthouse, so at least I had one less thing to worry about. She’d have questions, obviously, but none that couldn’t be glossed over. I’d purposely left my career open-ended. For all she knew, I was making bank in tech.
It was safer that way. Safer than the truth. If she knew the depths of the lies, I’d lose her forever.
“You want me to do what?” the man repeated, pulling me out of my own head. I was running on an hour or two of sleep, so it wasn’t hard to get lost in thought.
“You heard me the first two times.” I didn’t make a habit of repeating myself, and I wasn’t about to start. “Sounds impossible, I know. But make it happen.”
The man let out a deep, throaty chuckle. “Impossible n'est pas français.”
Damn straight. I was forking over a pretty penny for his work. If I’d learned anything in life, it was that money made anything possible. It could gain entry to supposedly restricted lists. It could clean up messes you didn’t want the world to see. It could make people wish they were never born.
“Wait for the signal,” I muttered. “I’ll be in touch.” I hung up, tucking the burner phone in my rear pocket as I dipped into the crowds of Carnaby. I needed
to lay low and wait for Boston to die down before striking again, bigger and brighter than before.
* * *
Stay away from my man, bitch. Or I’ll slit your throat and paint a fucking picture with your blood.
Outsiders would scroll right past the anonymous comment without a second thought, jaded to virtual threats of violence, but the words stopped me in my tracks. It was a direct threat against Kee, and simply reporting it with a click didn’t seem adequate. So I called my attorney.
Soon after I hung up and kept reading, my breath caught. There was another. And another. And another.
Dozens of vile comments were aimed at Kee on a standard news article. It was nothing scandalous. Nothing wild. Just a refresher on Boston’s lost social scene sweetheart.
I wonder if he’ll paint the portrait for your memorial, sweetie. That’s all that’ll be left after I’m finished with you.
My mouth went dry as my heart thundered in my ears. There had to be hundreds of them, each more twisted than the last. Some hinting at violence. Others detailing every horrible thing they were going to do to her.
I closed the page and leaned into the leather of the pub booth, nausea rolling through me in waves. She was safe. There were armed guards outside. Nothing could happen to her. I replayed it the mantra in my mind, but it wouldn’t stick. I could only hope the next few moves would.
I found loyalty and silence in the forgotten ones, my little sparrows willing to fly into the fire for me in return for kind words and a fat stack of hundreds. I turned to those who needed a friend most, giving them the dignity they deserved while allowing them to earn an honest living. It was a win-win situation for everyone.
One might think I was insane for trusting my life’s work with the forsaken, but it didn’t bother me one bit. Society was the one who needed readjusting, the ones who tossed aside the undesirables like trash rather than humans. I chose to pick them up rather than force them down, and in the process found a group more loyal than any normal person.
