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“Good timing.”
“I agree. It’s not as hard as you think when you throw a little cash around. People like to talk.”
“Did it cost more than the scotch you sent?”
“Maybe. It sounds bigger in pesos than it does in U.S. dollars.”
My phone chimed again as I pulled out a bottle of broken merlot. I let out a muted groan, feeling gut-punched by the random text that appeared.
Camilla: Your girlfriend just left the party.
Party? I didn’t like how that sounded, especially coming from Camilla. That girl had eyes everywhere, and I didn’t want her around Gemma, let alone tracking her.
Parker: Don’t text me about Gemma.
Camilla: Sorry! Thought you’d appreciate it… considering that all of New York knows who she is now. Don’t you want to keep your precious Butterfly safe?
Parker: What the fuck does that mean?
I leaned against the cool counter, flipping on the light switch in the living room, half-expecting Mila to be sitting there, giving me the evilest of looks.
“So what did you find out, Quinn?” I stared down at the counter, discovering a small, brown hair tie of Gemma’s. A loose strand of auburn hair wrapped around its center, a coiled piece of the woman who I missed so much. I couldn’t wait to see her, and what little time apart we had after the Hamptons already felt like an eternity.
“Well, we discovered much more than we ever expected. You wanted us to dig into his family life, but fuck, I never thought we’d actually strike oil.”
“Is that so?”
“Mhmm. Turns out Mr. Rivers is very good at keeping secrets, but we found the perfect canary to sing. I got some details that you’re going to enjoy.”
Mom: We want to go out and celebrate you and Gemma! You’re finally a couple!
Really, Mom?I tried not to sigh with Quinn on the phone, Mom’s preemptive dinner plans probably stretched all the way to a wedding reception.
“You know, Mr. Jones, we can meet if you want.” Quinn’s voice hopped over in a glitch, his phone hooking up to his car.
“Name a place.”
“How about Campbell? I’m catching a train to Pennsylvania afterwards to meet family.”
I received another text while making my way around the counter, tossing my soppy, red rag into the sink. Quinn shouted out his window, complaining about some traffic near The Met.
Camilla: Don’t tell me you didn’t get my gift, Parky? Didn’t you see the paper at your door?
A car horn blared on the other end of the line as I went back to the newspaper, reading the headline that I once was so careful not to crease. I thought it was a goddamn joke.
“What the fuck?” I barked out loud, rushing to open a shitty copy of The City Times, my panic evolving into sheer horror as I flipped to a full spread page that featured an overblown photo of the back of my head.
“You there, Park?” Quinn dropped the formality of my name, my non-response an aggressive silence.
“Rough Waters for Superstar Alejandro Rivera-Marquez,”read the headline to a photo of Gemma, my face concealed as I leaned down and kissed her. I couldn’t believe it, it was us at the Hamptons, our first true kiss, printed in some low-grade ink, like a poorly made family photo.
I scanned the page.
“Alejandro’s latest love interest, Gemma Rose Harrison, has just been spotted in an undisclosed location, getting cozy with the hottest mystery man ever. Photos emerge just a day before Alex had announced his exclusivity with Gemma Harrison, leaving fans wondering what will happen next during this tumultuous time.”
“Sorry, Quinn… I, uh, cut my finger.” I stuttered, re-reading the article, missing some parts, feeling rushed for no good reason. My name wasn’t listed anywhere, leaving me to believe that Camilla only wanted to warn me, but punish Gemma. The house was so eerily quiet now, my boots echoing in the kitchen as I paced. I quickly wrote Camilla back.
Parker: What the fuck did you do?
