25
KADE
I needed to get my credit card unlocked. My father had frozen it and I was tired of relying on the goodwill of parents who'd made it clear they had none left to give. The bank was my last option before I'd have to grovel, and I hated groveling. It felt like I'd spent the majority of my adult life groveling in one way or another just to stay on their good side.
Lately, however, I'd started to see why they were so hard on me. Watching how hard Lainey worked for the things she had really showed me a different side of life. At twenty-one years old she'd done more to build a future for herself than I had in my eighteen years of being an adult. It put me to shame and challenged me to be a better man.
But even a better man had needs, and life wasn't free. I had to get my card unlocked so I could function.
I pulled into the parking lot at the bank and parked my car—legally this time, not in the handicapped section like normal. It made me feel better about myself to start making good choices, and the more I made them, the better I felt.
But when I slid out of the car with my wallet in hand, chaos descended around me. A news van pulled up and parked near the curb, then another. In less than fifteen seconds there were reporters and cameras swarming me, like they'd been waiting for me to leave the Atlas and go somewhere, and they'd followed me here.
"Mr. Kingston, is it true you've been giving money to a woman in Boulder City?"
"Your credit card was tracked being used at multiple businesses in the Boulder City area. Can you comment?"
The questions were rude and invasive and pointed to the fact that someone had been tracking my financial information, which explained why my father froze things. Unfortunately the mob of flashing lights and microphones didn’t stop my financial needs, and I was used to a little pressure from the press now and then.
I kept walking but they surrounded me, blocking the path to the bank entrance. Microphones shoved closer and cameras clicked in rapid succession as wide eyes and eager gossip-hungry questions continued to pour out of them.
"Mr. Kingston, people want to know if you're being taken advantage of."
I stopped walking. My father's voice echoed in my head from that phone call, calling Lainey a gold digger while she stood right there listening. I'd said nothing to truly defend her back then, but this rhetoric now felt like a mirror image of that conversation. It made me wonder where they were getting their news from, but to say I'd outright blame my father for leakinginformation was absurd. He'd impale himself on a rusty sword before he let his name get tarnished.
"Excuse me," I said, trying to move around them, but the stubborn fools stood in my way and refused to budge.
"Mr. Kingston, do you have a comment? Folks are saying you're spending a lot of time in Boulder City."
The intensity had gotten turned up severely. It was just speculation before. Now they knew I was in Boulder City a lot. It was only a matter of time before they tracked me to Bake Me Happy and learned who Lainey was. She'd been so hurt when I didn't defend her to my parents.
I wouldn't do that again.
I had no choice but to stop and try to put an end to this the only way I knew how. I had promised to keep the wedding out of the press and on the down low. If I didn't do something, they'd uncover it all and she'd be mortified publicly.
I turned to address them directly. "I made a donation to help a local bakery with a cancer research fundraiser," I said, keeping my voice steady. "It's for a good cause and I think it'll show you all that I'm not just a rich playboy. I do care about things." Cameras flashed and they shoved their microphones closer.
"So you admit you're giving her money?"
"Like I said, I'm helping with a fundraiser for cancer research." I pushed forward, but they pressed tighter around me.
"What about the wedding ring you've been wearing?" A woman with a camera pointed at my left hand. "Sources say you've had it on for weeks."
I looked down at the simple band I had failed to take off, and every nerve in my body buzzed with tension. The cameras zoomed in, waiting, recording every second as my blood pressure rose and my own tonsils choked me.
I pulled it off slowly and slipped it into my pocket, feeling like a total idiot.
"Are you married, Mr. Kingston?"
"No." The word felt like glass in my throat, but I'd promised Lainey I'd keep it quiet. It was her choice to tell people, not mine. It didn't matter that the annulment wasn't finished yet or that I didn't want to go through with it. This wasn't about me. "I'm not married."
"Then who's the woman in the photos from Atlas Casino? Why wear the ring?" This reporter, a nosy man with an aquiline nose, pushed his mic so close I could smell the stench of his bad breath on the foam cover.
The question was so pointed it was impossible to answer in a tactful way. If I even hinted that we were an item in any way, they would devour her. It was how they were.
"I wore the ring to keep women away from me. A single man needs some peace now and then," I said chuckling.
"Not the brunette in Boulder City?" he pressed and I swallowed hard.
