I nod, not explaining. The last thing I need is more recordings of all the things I don’t want in the goddamn tabloids. Right now, even I can feel that I’m hanging on by a very thin thread. I need to get out of here and go run, shedding some of this tension pulsing through my veins. But I need to do this first. For Taylor.
With thoughts of her weighing heavily on my mind, as well as all the things I never said last night, I watch as Ryder waves Micah on and he begins, “I called you all here today, because I need some help,” Micah says, voice heavy with concern. “A source close to the police department has received news that I’m going to be investigated for electronic money laundering and tax evasion.”
A long pause follows, and it’s a prepared pause. We’ve already gone through this scripted conversation on the secured telephones once today to ensure we have it right. When I said I wanted to keep all the heat on me, Micah refused. You’ve had the heat enough. Let one of us take it for a while. And that ended the conversation.
“You cannot be serious?” I finally ask, aghast.
“Sadly, I am,” Micah replies.
I have to give it to him; worry echoes off his voice.
Gabe asks, “Are you sure this source knows what
they’re talking about?”
“It’s a solid source,” Micah confirms.
It’s my turn now. I clear my throat and add, “I hate to be the one to ask this, but is there any truth behind these allegations?”
Another pause. Then, “Yes, if the police looked into this, it would be troublesome for me,” says Micah.
“Jesus Christ.” Ryder slams his hand against the table, kicking his chair back to crash against the wall behind him. “What in the hell were you thinking, Micah?” While his voice sounds angry, the twinkle in his eye gives his amusement away.
“I know, I fucked up,” Micah breathes. “Tell me how to fix this.”
It’s hard not to laugh. I don’t think I’ve ever heard Micah ask for anyone’s opinion. “Lay low,” I offer. “And hope to hell the media doesn’t get ahold of this. If they do, you’re fucked, buddy.”
Which is, of course, a complete lie. This is the perfect story, because there’s absolutely no truth behind it. And if the tabloids run this tale, Micah can easily get in contact with the police department and prove the story is without merit. But it’s juicy enough that it might keep the tabloids from the truth for a little while longer until we figure out who’s the mole.
“Yeah, yeah…okay,” Micah says.
“And,” Gabe adds, “you know we’ll help you, no matter what comes your way. You’re not in this alone.”
“Thank you,” Micah responds, sincerity in his voice.
I raise my brows, fighting a grin, as does Ryder next to me. Micah being sincere? That’s a first.
Gabe interjects before laughter exposes us all as terrible actors, “Oh, and before we go,” he says to me, keeping a straight face. “Did I see that your ex-girl…what was her name?”
I pause for dramatic affect. “Taylor Erickson?”
“Yes, that’s her,” Gabe says, as if surprised, leaning back in his chair, lacing his hands behind his head. “I heard recently that she donated a large sum of money to a women’s shelter in the Bay Area. Is that you’re doing?”
“No, I had no part in that,” I reply, echoing his surprise. “Did she really do that?” And, of course, she hadn’t. I had donated $250,000 in her name, with clear instructions to keep my name out of it. I can only hope that if she’s viewed as a Good Samaritan the tabloid won’t pick apart her life. The public will crucify the tabloid if they do. I asked for this life, Taylor didn’t. I knew what fame would get me, I knew the cost I would pay by choosing business over personal, and I decided on that life. I can’t pity myself now. It’s the price I paid.
“Wow. That’s very generous of her,” Ryder states. “Why didn’t you know she did that?”
I don’t like the way my lungs squeeze, nearly refusing the air to let me breathe, because what I say now is all too true. “Because we’re done.” The line is scripted, but it doesn’t feel that way. It’s real, all too real, and it pains me to say it.
I stay quiet, listening to the men finish playing out the conversation, and I’m only too glad my part is over. The walls seem like they’re moving, slowly closing in on me. I don’t know what do now, and I always have a plan. I lived without her before, but now it seems harder.
“You will keep us in the loop?” Ryder asks Micah.
“Of course,” he replies. “I can’t imagine this getting out there too quickly. As far as I know, it’s being kept private.”
“Good,” says Gabe. “Let’s keep it that way. We don’t want the tabloids getting a whiff of this. It’s the one story that could bury you.”
Micah sighs. “I know.”