“And who is this lovely young lady with you?”
“This is Kennedy. My girlfriend”
A sweet grin crawls across Beverly’s face as she winks at Jordan, then looks to me. “You snagged yourself a hell of a man there, Miss Kennedy. I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for Jordan Boucher.”
I blink slowly at yet another person talking about how much he’s helped them. One more piece to the puzzle of figuring him out. I got the corner piece at Walt’s when he told me he owns Club 414.Does Beverly have the piece that will help this wholething fit together?“What do you mean?” I ask, but before she can reply, Jordan abruptly shifts the conversation.
“I’m ready to order, Bev. I’ll have the usual. Kennedy, do you know what you want?”
I glance between the two of them, wondering what the hell he doesn’t want her to say. Also wondering if I can test my theory again about us being pretty in sync with food, and the fact that I kind of like him ordering for me.Why is this a thing?Never in my life have I wanted someone else to order for me. I close my menu, not having read a word.Screw it.I make enough damn decisions during the day—he can make this one.
“You know what? Bring me whatever he’s having.” My eyes catch his, my heart racing. “Let’s see if you can go two for two.”
His lips twitch. “You heard the lady, Beverly, bring it!”
“Alright, two Bougie specials coming right up!” Beverly whoops as she waltzes behind the counter to put in the order.
I clasp my hands around the warm cup of coffee in front of me, taking a delicate sip. I don’t normally drink black coffee, but I feel like it’s going to be the lifeline that gets me through whatever he’s about to say. “So…we’re here, and food is on the way…explain to me what the hell is going on before I freak the hell out again.”
He slumps against his seat as he lets out a loud sigh, his gaze dropping to the table. “That text we got that first night with the photo of us at the hotel? That,” —he pops his eyes back up to mine, his body curling in on itself— “that wasn’t the first text.”
I set my coffee down so hard it sloshes over the edge. “I’m sorry…what?”
“Yeah. I’ve been getting them for…a while. Long before that night at the hotel bar. Only, there was never a picture included until then. I didn’t tell you because I didn’t want to freak you out. I thought it was maybe a pissed-off fan or something. I realize now that was a mistake. I’m sorry,” he trails off. “I toldmy security detail about it, and they’ve been extra vigilant about things, but the texts still come in fairly regularly. But that night…Hannah told me the photo had been leaked online and was going public, so I had to let you in on it. I didn’t,don’t,know what any of this is about. Please don’t hate me.”
I tap my nails along the side of the coffee mug in a rhythm I’m convincing myself will make this make sense. But it’s not. My fingers still. The warm feeling in my chest from earlier shifts into a fire, and I’m scrambling to find the extinguisher.
“Let me get this straight. You were getting texts from this random psychopath before that night? And now they are textingme?!” I whisper-yell, painfully aware we are in public and desperate to not cause a scene. Granted, we are practically the only ones in here, but I don’t want to upset poor sweet Beverly.
He nods, his eyes locked on the coffee in his cup, which he’s doctored with cream and sugar. The cream dilutes the color, as it seems he’s been diluting the truth of what’s really going on here.
I take a deep breath, praying it will give me the will to hear him out. “Jordan. I’m tryingveryhard to stay calm. In fact, it’s a good thing you suggested a public place because, while I’m ready to flip out and call the police, I’ll start with a few questions.”
He flinches. “Got it.”
“First of all, what the hell does any of this have to do withme?Second, the textI gotsaid ‘my boyfriend doesn’t like to listen.’ All I’ve known about isoneleaked picture of us. You said there was nothing else but a photo from a blocked number. Now you’re telling me they sent you other messages. What have they said that you aren’t listening to? What the fuck are they asking you to do?!” The words race out of my mouth in a rushed whisper.
He clears his throat as he runs his fingers through his hair. “The texts…they always tell me to stay away from you.”
35
jordan
This is the part where I crawl under a rock and die. I want to run. I want to hide. The churning in my gut is not from the surprise biscuits and homemade jam Bev dropped off; she knows they are my favorite—it’s the imminent dread of Kennedy’s reaction. I shift in my seat. Things are escalating, and I need to let her in on what’s going on. My knee bounces under the table. If this is the end of our fake relationship, and any hope for a real one, I guess it was good while it lasted.
She’s still staring at me, her eyes filled with shock and disbelief. “To stay away from me? Like…Kennedy Kramer, me?”
I nod, watching the cream dancing in my cup. “Yeah.”
“Why would someone want you to stay away from me? Wait…is this why you asked me if I had a boyfriend that night?”
“Yes.”Among other reasons.“I thought.” I scrub my hand down my face. “I thought someone was jealous seeing us together and was threatening me because of it.”
“And you didn’t think that would have beenhelpfulinformation for me to have had?”
I’m starting to pick up the vibe that she’s asmidgeangry.
“I didn’t…” I groan, my words getting caught in my throat. “I didn’t mean to keep it from you. You had a stressful day, then wehad the whole shenanigan with Chadd McScumbag. I thought it would freak you out even more.”
