A Tangled Truth (Stonewall Investigations Book 3) Page 5

  My head fell back against the headrest. The one thing stopping a full-blown panic attack from taking hold in the community was that the Unicorn’s MO seemed to be clearer now. He was going after men who were already partnered, most of them with a ring on their finger.

  “This an okay place to drop you off?” My driver’s voice snapped me out of my morbid thoughts. I looked out the raindrop-covered window. He had pulled right up to the front of the building, its stone facade looking like it was sweating as the rain came down.

  “Perfect,” I said. Getting out, I ducked my head, avoiding any rain in the eyes as I hurried up to the covered entrance. The weather got worse on the drive, now making me regret having forgotten an umbrella. Griffin was already waiting there, looking down at his phone as I walked up to him. He must have sensed me as I drew closer. He looked up and smiled, a few wet strands of hair falling down on his forehead. His light-blue shirt was also pretty wet around the shoulders, but the rest of him looked dry.

  “Hey, Liam,” he said, pulling me into a soggy hug.

  “Griff,” I said as we separated. “Sorry, maybe you were better off inside developing your bedsores.”

  He laughed at that with a wide, toothy smile. “That’s okay—a little rain never hurt. Besides, I have a sneaking suspicion Alex wouldn’t be as supportive of my vegetative lifestyle as he might say he is.”

  It was my turn to laugh. “All right, let’s get inside.”

  We made our way through the entrance and climbed up some stairs. The restaurant was located inside of a building with plenty of other offices and places to eat, so there were a good amount of people walking around, some escaping the gloom outside, although it really wasn’t that much brighter inside, either. When we reached the place, the hostess instantly recognized me and walked us over to my favorite table by the windows. There were comfortable red cushions on the floor in place of chairs, so I took a seat, crossing my legs and settling in.

  After looking through the menu, we each ordered our share of sushi (which was flown in daily from Japan) and a couple of cold beers, and got into talking. Griffin started off with a story of how Alex brought home a kitten he had found last weekend and fell in love with it, only to find out that Griffin had intense cat allergies. They found a great new home for the cat, but Griffin noted how it must have kicked off Alex’s biological clock, because he was now escalating things by a degree of a hundred and casually dropping hints of having a kid sometime in the future.

  “Which,” Griffin said just as our appetizers were being brought out, “is leading me to think he might pop the question soon, but what do I know? I’m not the detective; he is.”

  My eyebrows rose at that. “Oh wow, look at you, getting hitched.”

  “Seriously, crazy.” Griffin shook his head, smiling. “My life was a burning dumpster fire of a mess. Who would have guessed I would get a ring on it before you did?”

  I laughed at that. “Hey, hey, I’ve still got some time to beat you. There’s nothing on your finger yet.”

  “Well, get to work, buddy.” Griffin picked up one of his salmon rolls with the dark red chopsticks.

  “Plus, I’ve got the gallery opening in a few months which has me going batshit trying to get everything ready.”

  “I can’t wait for that,” I said, feeling so happy for Griffin and how well he was doing. Such a contrast to the man who had cut me out of his life because of the drugs and booze.

  “Anyways,” Griffin said, “that’s my current situation. What was it you wanted to talk to me about?”

  I swallowed a chug of the beer. It was light, with fruity notes that kept it refreshing, which was good because my mouth suddenly felt very parched. It was like the second I knew I would be talking about Mark, my entire body went haywire. “So you know how I went to go meet a detective who could help me figure out what was going on?”

  Griffin nodded, stuffing another salmon roll in his mouth. “Mhm,” he affirmed.

  “Okay, so the detective I ended up meeting with just so happens to be one of my childhood best friends, except we’d lost touch and never reconnected until now.”

  Griffin swallowed his mouthful of sushi, his eyes widening. “What the wha? That’s crazy!”

  “It gets crazier,” I said, taking a breath and another drink of the beer. “He was also my first ever real crush, the first guy I ever remember actually feeling things for. And it was more than puppy love, which I know because… I’m still feeling those things.” I let out a breath. “And we definitely aren’t puppies anymore.”

  “Nope, no you’re not. You’re a full-grown golden retriever.”

  “Good dog choice,” I said.

  “It’s the hair,” Griffin said, gesturing with his chin toward my golden-blond head of hair, shaved short around the sides and trimmed across the top. “And the smile, and the eyes, and the way you’ll chase after anything I throw and always bring it back.” Griffin picked up his white napkin and shook it in the air. “Ready, boy? Come on, go!” His voice took on the tone everyone adopts when they’re speaking to a canine friend.

  I feigned getting up in the direction he waved his handkerchief in. We both laughed, Griffin bringing the direction of the conversation back to Mark. “So,” he started when he caught his breath, “what are you going to do? Ask him out? Have him take you to the dog park?”

  “Yeah… about that.” I adjusted myself on the cushion. “I already did.”

  “Nice! Need any bones? Oh wait, you’ll have plenty of those.”

  I shook my head. “Not nice. He turned me down.”

  Griffin looked surprised at that. “Oh… oh. Think maybe he’s not feeling the same thing?”

  It was a good question, but I didn't like thinking about it. I shook my head. “I feel like he was as rocked by our reunion as I was. That room felt like a fucking college chemistry class.”

  “And he turned you down?”

  “For tonight,” I cleared up. “He said we should meet up in a few weeks.”

  “Oh, pfft, then yeah, he’s just probably playing hard to get. Chase him. Give him what he wants—it sounds like he’s worth it.”

  I nodded at that. “He’s definitely worth it. I’m not running away from him this time.”

  Nope. This time the only running I was doing was toward Marky Mark, not away.

  6 Mark Masters

  Two Weeks Later

  The subway train rattled down its track underneath the concrete jungle. I was smiling, something that I rarely did when I rode the subway. I was in a completely different headspace than I had been when Chris walked out of my office and Liam walked into it. I was taking the subway to the Upper East Side, on my way for an interview with Johnny. But what I was really happy about was Liam’s name popping up on my phone. Even though the train I sat in was stuffy and smelled like soggy nachos, I was still wearing that smile as I looked down at my phone, my fingers typing away a witty response to the message he’d just sent me, figuring out how many emojis were just enough and how many would be overkill.

  It was a common occurrence now for us to talk throughout the day. The first time he messaged me, I’m going to be honest, I initially panicked. Me, a grown man working a dangerous career, went haywire over a text. That was the kind of influence Liam had over me. It didn’t help that I’d been caved up in my apartment, working from home on Liam’s case but refusing to see the outside world if it wasn’t required. I had been really down on myself after realization hit that I’d been broken up with. For a few days, I didn’t want to do anything but lie in bed. Then I started to want to read, which evolved to watching old movies, and soon I was back to exercising and taking jogs around the block, stopping by my favorite corner store for some snacks. It used to be Chris’s and my favorite corner store, but there was no more us, just me now.

  That was probably the hardest thing to adjust to. Not necessarily the empty bed or the lack of (mostly stale) dinner conversations, but the fact that it was no longer “we” and instead i
t was all “me.” It was something I hadn’t felt in a really long time.

  So Liam’s first text had really thrown me off. I didn’t respond for a day. When I did respond, and we’d texted back and forth a few times, then it felt like the most natural thing in my life. This friendship. Like we had been texting each other every day for the past fifteen years, sending dumb Housewives gifs and making jokes that genuinely made me laugh and not just deadpan as I typed out “LMFAOAOA.” I could confidently say that I was actually laughing my fucking ass off whenever I talked to Liam.

  Currently, we were talking about a viral video of a baby elephant sliding down a hill, looking like the cutest damn thing in the world.

  “It makes me want one,” Liam’s text read.

  “Do you think your building’s management would allow one?”

  “Probably not, but I can sneak it in while it’s small. Would you help?”

  “Absolutely not lol”

  “What?! You won’t be my elephant-smuggling partner?”

  “No, that one’s all you. But I will come upstairs once you get it there. I want to pet it.”

  “Sure, sure, get all the benefits after I risk jail time. I see the game you’re playing.” He then sent a gif of a drag queen staring at the camera sideways, suspicion clear on her face. “But fine, I’ll let you know when to come upstairs.”

  “Thank you for understanding lol.”

  He sent a devilish smiley face before replying. “You can stroke my elephant trunk all you want.”

  Annnd there it was. I shouldn’t have been as surprised as I was. There were plenty of times I wanted to send a suggestive, flirty reply, but I never did. Liam, on the other hand, wasn’t holding himself back in the same way I was. That made me happy. Excited. My heart beat a little faster, and my briefs felt tighter as I tried to craft the perfect response. It suddenly got a little hotter around me even though my row had emptied. I pressed my legs together, enjoying the building pressure but also trying not to look at the growing bulge in my light jeans.

  “Look at that, I meant to say elephant*’s* not elephant. Do grammar not drugs, kids,” Liam texted before I could reply. He then sent a winky face.

  “And here I was, getting excited about your safari,” I sent back. I immediately hated what I sent.

  Dumb, dumb, dumb.

  This was all so damn new and weird and exciting, I had no idea how to handle any of it. This was Liam I was flirting with. A man I had been desperate to explore but had always been too scared to. Someone who my dreams would constantly focus on. I remember just wanting to hold his hand soo bad when we were kids, it had almost been a physical pain. Stealing as many glances as I could wasn’t enough; it never had been.

  I always wanted more.

  Before Liam replied to my idiotic attempt at flirting, my train came to a high-pitched screeching stop at the station. I got up from my seat and followed the flow of people exiting the train. I walked through the station and climbed the stairs to exit on a bright, wide street lined with dark green trees and tall buildings. There were housewives walking their designer dogs on designer leashes and businessmen speed-walking with their designer suits thrown over their designer shoulders (joking about that one—we don’t have custom-made shoulders… yet) in an attempt to avoid the intense heat. I could see Central Park from where I stood, where joggers and bikers and casual strollers all mixed and made their way around and into the emerald gem. There was no question why Gossip Girl had the majority of its rich cast of characters living in the Upper East Side. It was a part of the city where money seemed to grow off the well-taken-care-of trees. It was the only way I could explain how so many damn people had so much of it here.

  I started down the street, moving away from the park and deeper into the maze of old but expertly maintained buildings. According to my maps app, the building I was looking for was only a three-minute walk away. I was wearing jeans and a button-up navy shirt with the sleeves rolled up, and still the heat was making me thankful my destination was only minutes away. I was more of a shorts guy, but today’s interview definitely called for a little more formal attire.

  This interview was bound to be different. Johnny didn’t know he was my actual target. I knew he would probably never agree to sitting down and having a chat with me if he knew he was the one being investigated, so I didn’t exactly specify my reason for today and hoped his ego would take care of the rest. I had done plenty of preliminary research on Johnny and knew that he was driven by his perceived image and success. He would want to get his name out there if it meant he was the “savior” who’d taken down this monstrous Liam—a monster who was created by Johnny and only existed in his mind. I knew Liam wasn’t capable of doing anything Johnny was accusing him of. Even with the bridge of time that had been built between us, I still had confidence that Liam was the good, pure soul I had always known him to be.

  So, when I finally got in touch with Johnny, I told him I was working on the Liam Wolfe case and I’d seen Johnny’s interview in the article that broke the story, so I wanted to dig a little deeper and talk to a witness. Johnny took my bait without asking many more questions. I knew he wanted to be the last nail in Liam’s coffin, and he would probably jump on the chance to talk some more about his accusations.

  My phone buzzed to let me know I had reached the building. It was a modern office structure set between two buildings with much older facades. I walked to the big sliding glass doors, entering into a large lobby with a front desk where a bored receptionist sat, scrolling through her phone and jerking up in her chair when she realized I was walking toward her. She brushed a rogue strand of black hair from the front of her face and mustered a smile that I assumed took quite a bit of work.

  “Hi,” she said.

  “Hey, I’m here for a meeting with Johnny Brown.”

  I could almost hear her internal groan. “ID please.”

  I handed over my license. The girl looked down at a sheet on her frosted-glass desk. She scanned the names of approved guests, flipping the page, then looking around her desk for something else.

  “Sorry, sir, but you aren’t on the list.”

  “That’s weird. I talked to his assistant a few days ago and gave her all of my information already. She said she’d have me on the list.”

  “Yeah, weird.”

  I stood there for a moment before realizing she wasn’t going to say anything else. “Can you call her? I’m sure she’ll confirm me.”

  With a subtle sigh that did not escape me this time, she reached over for the phone. She dialed and held the phone between her ear and shoulder, checking her chipped red nails while she waited for someone to pick up. I looked around, noticing there was a small café inside the lobby where a few people sat around on blue chairs, typing on their laptops and downing their caffeine.

  “Okay, sir, you’re confirmed. Take elevator number four.”

  I looked back to the desk. She was holding her cell phone now, looking at me as if I were taking up her precious screen-scrolling time.

  “Thanks,” I said, knocking on the desk and turning toward the elevators. I took my assigned elevator up to the fifteenth floor and stepped out. There was a set of wide dark wooden doors straight ahead with Johnny’s production company logo painted over the center of the door in bold white paint. It was the head of a viper with its fangs extended, and from the fang sprouted a bloom of poison. I actually thought it was a clever logo, because if it were flipped, the simplistically designed viper and fang turned into a tree growing up from the ground and blooming outward. I wasn’t sure if it was common knowledge, but I definitely noticed the duality of the logo.

  I wonder if Johnny even knows or if whoever he paid to design it for him decided to drop in a cool Easter egg.

  I opened the doors and entered into another waiting area, this one much smaller than the first lobby. There was a much happier and more attentive woman sitting at the tiny wooden desk taken up almost entirely by the huge Mac computer screen. S
he leaned her head to the side and smiled up at me. “Hi, you must be Mark. So sorry about the mix-up at the front desk!”

  “Oh, no worries,” I said, recognizing her voice as Johnny’s assistant, Diana. “Mistakes happen to all of us.”

  She smiled a little wider, clearly appreciative that I wasn’t going to chew her out like I’m sure some other stuck-up Hollywood types meeting with Johnny would have done. She motioned toward a black leather chair against the far wall. “Just take a seat, and Johnny will be right with you. Do you want any water? Coffee?”

  “No, I’m okay, thank you.”

  A coffee didn’t sound like the worst idea in the world, but I figured I’d just get one on my way out. I didn’t think I had long to wait for Johnny anyway, and thankfully, I was right. Only a few minutes after I took a seat, I heard heavy shuffling footsteps from down the narrow hallway that led to his offices. Johnny then walked out into the waiting area, wearing a pair of ripped jeans that had way too many holes in them and an Affliction T-shirt that had a leopard bedazzled across the front. He was slightly overweight but could get away with saying he had a dad bod underneath the midlife crisis uniform he was wearing.

  Basically, he was a walking billboard that screamed, “I’m a raging douchebag.”

  This is going to be interesting.

  “Ay, Mark, my boy. How you doing today?” He walked straight toward me, arm extended, eyes engaged. He definitely had a powerful presence, and I noticed it fill the room. He shook my hand and smiled. In that instance, something odd happened to me. I felt a flash of rage light in my chest. I wanted to ball a fist and use it to wipe that smug smile off this guy’s face. This guy was smiling while Liam was constantly dealing with pressure from the accusations. It pissed me off. I wasn’t even sure if Johnny had sent those emails or not, but I just knew that even if he hadn’t, he was still a sleazy scumbag responsible for hurting a lot of other people.