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“What’s up?” I put on the shower and put my hand under the running water to check its temperature.
“Tristan, you won’t believe what I just found out,” Luke’s voice crackles through the line, urgency suddenly in his voice.
Fuck.
My heart beats faster as I throw the towel around my neck. I grip the phone harder as I wait for him to tell me what he’s found on Layla. I knew it was too good to be true. I only wish I’d spent more time with her.
I suddenly feel sad, then angry that I feel sad.
“Layla?” I ask, keeping my emotions out of my voice. “You found something about her?”
“Layla?” Luke asks, sucking air through his teeth. “No, I haven’t found anything yet. That isn’t why I called, man.”
Oh, shit. Thank God.
Before I can speak, Luke continues, “Goldberg is in town, man.”
“What?” I feel a surge of anger. “Miles Goldberg?” The name of the man out to ruin me is burned into my brain.
“Yeah, apparently, he’s staying at a motel just off Route 34 on the way out of town.” Luke sounds like he’s reading it off a paper. “I just got the information from my P.I.”
“That son of a bitch followed me from New York?” I slam my fist on the sink to my side and look up at the mirror. “What the fuck is his problem?”
“That’s not all, man.” Luke’s words come out slowly. “There’s another hit piece out on you.”
“What the fuck?” Veins throb in my neck in my reflection. “Tonight?”
“Yeah, Tristan.” He admits. “Now, I know you didn’t read the last one, but this—”
“Forward the link right now.” I stand up straight, the pain in my knees no longer on my mind.
“Okay.” I hear him remove his phone from his ear and click. “Done.” He returns to speaking to me. “Now, Tristan, don’t do anything I—”
“Good night, Luke,” I murmur, then click the call off.
Who the fuck does this guy think he is? My thoughts race as I quickly tap my screen, trying to open the link Luke sent me. The water on my finger makes it tricky. I wipe my hand against my towel, and the link opens right up this time.
I read.
Fatal Influence: The CEO’s Wife’s Shocking End by Miles Goldberg
The death of Deanna Fisher turned Deanna Jackson, daughter of one of the wealthiest ranchers in America, into one of the biggest media mysteries in the last two years. How did she die? That was the question on everyone’s lips, but the dark-haired billionaire kept it a secret. We thought he kept it a secret to honor her, but it was for a reason far more sinister.
Sources close to the late Mrs Jackson allege a harrowing tale of emotional manipulation and coercion, painting a chilling picture of marital discord. In a shocking revelation, the illusion of marital bliss has been shattered as sources close to the couple reveal Mrs Jackson killed herself by overdosing on prescription painkillers.
The whispers of doubt grow louder, demanding answers to the….
I fling my phone against the mirror, shattering it with a loud crash. The phone hits the sink, then bounces onto the floor, the screen flashing with sprayed ink and broken glasses. My hands clench into fists as I stare at my multiple reflections in the fractured mirror. I remove the towel from my neck and head back to the bathroom.
Fuck taking a shower, it’s time Miles Goldberg gets what’s coming to him.
***
The motel wasn’t hard to find.
The neon glow of the motel sign casts an eerie light as I pull into the parking lot, the gravel crunching beneath my car's tires. My hands grip the steering wheel with a white-knuckled intensity, the anticipation of the confrontation coursing through my veins.
A glance up at the rear mirror reveals my face. It is half-shrouded with my baseball cap pulled down. The black hoodie and sweatpants I’m wearing make me blend with the darkness in my car.
