“Why do you even bother talking to me? Can’t we agree on never saying a word to one another?”
Keats downs the last sip of his espresso. “No can do, Esme. Not until you solve the package situation. I’m aconsiderate neighbor, but if you’d rather, I could leave your boxes outside your house in the rain or snow. Maybe a squirrel is hungry, too.”
I growl, because as much as his ridiculous humor is frustrating, he’s right. The last thing I need is camera equipment getting wet. My hands claw my hair because I’m so exhausted from this.
“Clearly, you’ve cursed my day, and I don’t feel like this is the start of the morning that I need, either,” he mentions.
We both move in an attempt to walk away, but instead, our feet shuffle, and our effort to step in opposite directions only leads us to the same spot. We both step back, annoyed.
Sighing, I’m debating what to do.
“Have a splendid day. Some of us have to go conquer the world today,” he says sarcastically as he begins to walk away.
“With what? Covering for asshole hockey players who cheat?” Shit. Why did I say that? He’s going to hound me, and I was saving this information for a rainy day.
Keats stalls and turns sharply back to me. “Say that again?” His voice has a little edge.
A confident and proud smirk spreads on my face. “The photo? I might not have stopped the person who leaked it. In fact, I maybe even helped her pick the right photo.”
He closes his eyes for a second, and he seems to be laughing under his breath as he takes in the news, while he shakes his head gently. “Of course you did.”
Oliver appears behind him. “You what?”
“Scotty Smith? He cheated.”
“And? Why would you care?” Oliver is curious, and he’s unreadable.
My eyes run to the side then back at these two men before me. “It was my friend in my photographer group that he lied to. Said he was in the process of a divorce from his wife,while it was clearly not the case. So, a little revenge and one anonymous click on social media seemed only fitting, and I had no problem persuading her to post the photos anonymously. In fact, he can go shove it, considering he wants nothing to do with her and asked her to delete evidence of their weekend getaway a few months back.”
It’s all spilling out of my mouth, and for some reason, it doesn’t feel like the wrong thing to do.
Keats and Oliver look at one another, their faces neutral. But then it happens.
Their faces break, and they laugh, nearly giddy.
I’m puzzled why.
“Thanks for that. Your little activity actually made Oliver and I a lot of money. It’s fun when you have extra billable hours.” I want to swipe that look of satisfaction off his face. “I mean…” He sets his empty cup on a nearby table. “He kind of had it coming if he cheated, and it did give me a few late hours too many. That little move of yours caused him to no longer be the Spinners’ problem and left the door open for a solid player trade.”
Oliver sets his hand on Keats’s shoulder as his laugh fades off. “I’m going to head to my car. I’ll see you at the office. I’m sure your day just got better.” He turns to me. “Bye, Esme.”
I say nothing but my tipped-up nose tells him goodbye too. But a stabbing set of eyes is still set on me, and back to my morning stare-off with Keats it is.
“Let me guess. You didn’t just think it was honorable revenge for your friend, but you also thought it would piss me off one day?”
My lips quirk out, and although, yes, he is right, I sure as hell don’t want him to know that. “No. I was just withholding the information and forgot to mention it,” I lie.
“Hmm, sure.” He isn’t buying it. “Listen, as fun as our tit-for-tat is, I need to head to the real world. I would say I’d buy you a coffee, but my instinct to spit in it is probably too high.”
I flash him a contrite smile. “Mature of you.”
It feels like a minute, but it’s probably only a few seconds that we just look at one another. The adrenaline of our conversation still seems to be flowing through me. Did his eyes just dip down to my lips? Or is it me staring at his mouth? Deciding how to tape it shut, of course.
“See ya, neighbor,” he rasps.
“What joy.”
And with that, he’s gone. Now, I have nothing more to hold in my back pocket to piss him off, I guess.
