Body Movers: 3 Men and a Body

E.’s boyfriend, Leonard, stood there, tall, dark and beefy. “Is Hollander around?”

“Uh, yeah, he’s on the phone. Come on in.”

When Wesley stepped aside to allow him to pass, he noticed the man was carrying a black gym bag similar to the one that Chance had asked him to deliver to some shady character in a shadier part of town—the errand that E. had thwarted. It was ironic that her boyfriend appeared to have picked up where Wesley’d left off.

He closed the door. “I’m Wes.”

Leonard flicked his gaze over him as he paced. “Yeah, we’ve met before.”

“Right. I didn’t know if you—”

“Hollander!” Leonard yelled, obviously impatient.

From the kitchen, Chance held up a finger—his middle one—but wrapped up his conversation and snapped his phone closed. “Wes,” he said, striding toward them, “there’s a big game next Wednesday and you’re in it. Five grand a seat, twenty seats, and the pot is forty large, twenty to the winner.”

Wesley nodded, but glanced sideways at Leonard. He didn’t trust the man with his business, and it didn’t help that he pretty much hated him for being with E. in the first place, and deceiving her to boot. He looked at Chance. “I’m outta here. Call you later.”

He grabbed his backpack and banged the door shut behind him. He opted for the stairs instead of the elevator, but the OxyContin slowed him down a bit. Once he got outside, though, the fresh air helped to clear his head. He was unlocking his bike when he heard the sound of heavy footsteps behind him. He recognized Leonard’s hefty shadow before he could even look up. When he straightened, he half expected the guy to kick sand in his face.

“Does E. know what you do on the side?” Wesley asked, trying to look taller.

“No,” the guy said through big, gritted teeth. “And if she finds out, I know where to land with both feet, capiche?”

Wesley bit down on the inside of his cheek. “Is that all?”

“No. Got a message for you from The Carver.”

Wesley swallowed. Shit, he didn’t see that coming. “You work for The Carver?”

“Listen up, dickhead, because this is the deal of a lifetime. A way to clear everything you still owe.”

Wesley broke out in an instant sweat, exacerbated by the drug pumping through his bloodstream. Deal of a lifetime?

Something told him this was going to be anything but.

8

Carlotta checked her watch and tried to ignore the fierce itching under her cast. She’d been ready for more than an hour. Her suitcase sat next to the door and her heart pounded with nervous excitement. She was eager to get out of this house for a few days, and she was looking forward to spending time with Coop. Even though she knew he had a crush on her, she also knew he wouldn’t pressure her, like Peter, or mess with her mind, like Jack.

And when the time came, it would be easy to slip away from Coop for a few hours. She nursed the tiniest bit of guilt over using the trip as a cover to get to Daytona Beach, but no one had to know. She would locate the Holiday Inn where her father’s fingerprints had been found, and ask a few questions of her own. Maybe he was working there. If he was in disguise, Jack could easily overlook him. He could talk to him and not know it was him … her father would love that. She wasn’t even sure that she would recognize Randolph, but after her brush with him at the fake funeral, she at least knew to be looking past the obvious.

At the sound of Kiki Deerling’s name on the television, she turned her head to listen. Knowing that they would be bringing Kiki’s body back to Atlanta made her feel more connected to the dead girl. Carlotta reached for the remote control and turned up the volume.

“Fans of Kiki Deerling are still reeling from the news of her sudden death in Boca Raton, Florida. Details surrounding the starlet’s final moments are still sketchy, but initial reports are that Deerling might have suffered a severe asthma attack. Deerling’s publicist, Marquita White, issued the following statement, quote, ‘We are so saddened by the horrific tragedy of Kiki Deerling’s passing. This is an extremely difficult time for her loved ones and we ask the media to please respect the family’s privacy,’ unquote.

“Meanwhile, members of the Deerling family are not talking to the press. Here’s a clip showing Kiki’s ex-boyfriend, Grammy award-winning singer Matt Pearson, being turned away at the door of the Deerlings’ home in Boca Raton by Kiki’s older sister, Kayla. You can clearly see that Kayla has been crying. They appear to exchange angry words, then Pearson leaves, stumbling twice on the way back to his car. It’s widely known that she disapproved of her sister’s alliance with Pearson.”

Kayla Deerling was an older, brunette version of her more famous sister, except of a more normal weight, Carlotta observed wryly. She ran a restaurant in Buckhead called Diamonds, which was all the rage with the critics. Reservations were hard to come by and the menu was way out of Carlotta’s price range.

“Pearson has been arrested twice for alleged heroin use, and has been in and out of rehab in the past few months. Deerling and Pearson have not been linked romantically for over a year, and Deerling has been photographed with many other men since. Sources say that Matt Pearson wasn’t on the Boca birthday party guest list, but showed up unannounced, and Kiki herself let him in.”

Matt Pearson was portrayed in the media to be arrogant and reckless, and Carlotta had heard enough reports of him trashing hotel rooms and smashing sports cars that she was inclined to believe it was true. What was it about bad boys, she wondered, that made women overlook their wayward behavior?

“No memorial arrangements have been announced, but the Deerlings own a cemetery plot in their hometown of Atlanta, where the family has many business investments, including the flagship store for the Deerling jewelry empire, and Diamonds restaurant. Experts tell us if there’s an autopsy, it could be a week or more before Kiki is laid to rest. Despite the initial reports linking her death to asthma, rumors abound that drugs played a part in the young woman’s collapse. Stay tuned for upcoming details on the tragic death of Kiki Deerling.”

Carlotta turned down the volume, shaking her head at the pointlessness. It was a very sad ending for a woman who might have gone on to more noble pursuits, but instead would be memorialized for her excessive partying and personal humiliations played out in the tabloids.

At the sound of a car pulling into the driveway, Carlotta clicked off the TV and jumped up to look out the window. Seeing Coop’s white van, she smiled. “Wesley, I’m leaving!” she called. “See you in a few days!” She doubted if he heard her, since the fan in his bedroom was still running, but she looked toward the hallway in case he emerged. She had waited up until midnight last night before giving in and going to bed, but had left a note on his door telling him she was going on a road trip with Coop. Wesley was clearly avoiding her because he didn’t want to discuss what had happened. And she wasn’t ready to pry the truth out of Peter. In fact, she hadn’t even told him that she was going out of town.

Wesley was avoiding her; she was avoiding Peter. Round and round we go.

Maybe by the time she returned to Atlanta, Wesley would be willing to open up. Carlotta sighed in the direction of his closed bedroom door. They seemed bound and yet separated by old and new secrets. A few days away from each other would probably do them both good.

The doorbell rang. She hurried to the door and opened it, unable to suppress her smile. Coop looked handsome and fit in a black T-shirt and jeans, dressed more casually than usual, and wearing it well. Her heart tripped ridiculously, as if they were going to the prom.