Page 55 of The Blackmail of Denise Randall

I hurry to meet his eyes, since he caught me openly staring at his…I stare at him in shock. Unsure what to say, I look back at the box. Then back at him when he bursts out laughing. He slides his body from between my legs. Awkwardly, I let my feet fall to the floor and straighten in my seat. I narrow my eyes and cross my arms.

I’ve never seen a naked man in person before. I stare again admiring his body, and he clears his throat. I feel my face heat. He gives me a knowing look but doesn’t say anything. Instead, he stands up and walks toward the entertainment center.

“I have one more gift for you. This one really is all for you.” He lifts up a rectangular navy blue wrapped gift and places it in my lap. I tear at the paper. Inside, there’s a paper rose made from the pages of a book with an elegantly carved dark piece of wood as the stem.

“This is beautiful, but what book did you destroy to make it?”

He chuckles. “I didn’t make that. I ordered it online. It’s supposed to be made from books by C. J. Wright. I assume she’s one of your favorite authors because,” he takes a deep breath, like he’s a little embarrassed, “I was bored at Trent’s. There were some books sitting on a table, and Trent said they were yours. I’m assuming Rachel had been reading them because, otherwise, Trent’s a bigger pussy than I thought. Anyway, I kept seeing book after book with her name on each one. You know by the titles of some of those, you’d think you were into being handcuffed.”

I stare in horror and amazement at the paper rose. “One of C.J. Wright’s books was destroyed?”

“Maybe? Maybe it was one that was a misprint. Anyway, check the rest.”

Underneath the flower is a leather-bound journal. Beautifully embroidered with swirls and flowers. In the center is Denise, in an elegant cursive font.

“Open it.”

I open the journal and get a whiff of the leather smell. Inside is a folded piece of pink paper. I unfold the paper and it appears to be a receipt for tickets. I read and begin having trouble breathing. Keaton sits down next to me and places an arm around me.

“Are you okay? Hey. Breathe.”

I begin slapping his naked thigh. I keep hitting it as I try to process what I’m reading.

“This is—Th—This is a receipt for tickets to Vivienne Gene’s Runaway Night Charity this month in LA. It sold out within five minutes of tickets going on sale. I tried to get a ticket but—Wait. Hold up. How did you get a ticket and why?” He scratches his chin and shrugs. I get a sinking feeling in my stomach. I cringe. “Were these originally for Charlee? I mean, I’m still taking them. But…were they?”

He chuckles. “No. I don’t think Charlee has ever heard of this event.” He suddenly appears embarrassed. “I noticed that you really like fashion.”

“I still don’t understand how you came across tickets?”

“Remember how I said my father was a drug user? I didn’t have the best life growing up.”

“Keaton,” I whisper.

“Anyway, I have an aunt that lives in LA. A couple of years back I hitchhiked my way to California.”

“Keaton, that’s dangerous. Were you crazy?”

His eyes hold so much sadness and his voice is devoid of emotion. “I had nothing else to lose. I couldn’t stay.”

“I’m sure Noah would’ve let you stay with him. I know my parents would have.”

Keaton releases a cold laugh. “I wasn’t about to be a charity case, or so I thought. I ended up being one anyways.” He rubs his chin and his eyes take on a vacant look. I allow him that moment to be lost in this thoughts, then he continues, “I found my aunt. She didn’t have any money to take on a sixteen-year-old boy. But, she tried. One day, while at the salon, she told her hairstylist about me. The hairstylist told her about the charity that helps runaways. Well, when my aunt was helping me apply for a scholarship, she also saw a form about modeling. Crazy enough I ended up…”

Keaton puts his hands in his pockets and looks away. His ears and neck begin to turn pink. I can’t stop myself from smiling as I ask, “Did you model?”

“Only for that one event. I walked the runway. It wasn’t for me, but I did get a scholarship. My mom got really sick and my dad promised he’d get clean as long as I came back to be with her. So I left LA and I haven’t been back.”

“I’m sorry.” I’m on the brink of tears.

“Anyway, I might’ve heard Trent and Rachel talking about your birthday coming up. I wanted to get you something. I remembered those books and googled the author. Then I called the organization.” He shrugs. “Either way, I managed to gain access to two tickets. If you decide you don’t want me to go with you then I can just make sure you get there safely and one of your buddies can go with you. It’s your gift.” That does it. I leap into his arms and burst into tears. Keaton pulls back in surprise. “What’s wrong?”

“Do you know…” I stop to grab a tissue from my purse and make a disgusting noise while blowing my nose. I cry harder now that I’m embarrassed. Somewhat regaining control of my breathing, I say between sobs, “Do you know that you’re the only person to sing H-Happy Bir-” I blow my nose again, “Birthday to me. A-and you got me these g-gifts.” I wipe my eyes and sniffle. “You. Of all people, you’re the one with the creepy, sexual and sweet gifts.”

He scoffs. “You don’t have to sound so surprised that it was me, of all people. And it’s not that creepy I did…never mind.”

“You know what I mean. Thank you so much. Even though I still cringe knowing a book was damaged.”

“Do you want to give it back if it’s so offensive?”

---