Page 57 of On the Beat

His lips touch mine.

It’s too good not to give in and too reckless not to burn.

* * *

“Hi, who am I speaking to?” I say, even though I know exactly who’s on the other end of the line.

“River Black. You’re Iris Hart, right?”

“That’s me.” I gave him a fake name, but I’d nearly forgotten. I stir my coffee, the half-melted ice cubes rattling against my spoon. “How can I help you?”

“I’m ready to tell my side of the story. You work forLa Mode, right?”

I may have fibbed a bit when I left a message on his answering machine. But it was almost the truth. I take a deep breath. Maybe I can have everything I want. “That’s right.”

“Great.”

It’s been one week since Ryder and I kissed in the pool. One week of me realizing I need to tell this story. I need to write this expose. And I need to keep my job.

A kiss doesn’t have to change the trajectory of my life, even if it felt like it shattered the ground beneath my feet.

“What exactly do you want to say? Do you want to start at the beginning?” I prompt, tapping my pen against the cover of my notebook.

“Sure. Sure, I’ll start there.” He laughs. It’s not a pleasant sound, his voice scratchy as though he’s been smoking too many cigarettes or pulling all-nighters at concerts. “Ryder’s my little brother. I don’t want anything bad to happen to him. I’m sure you can agree on that, can’t you.”

The way he phrases it isn’t a question. It’s a command for me to agree. It would make me feel bad about what I’m doing, but River seems to have no remorse about essentially selling his brother’s personal information–or I assume he’s about to–so I can hardly feel bad.

“Yes, of course, I agree.” It’s far easier for me to lie to him than I want it to be, but it’s almost easier for me to lie to Ryder. Even if it’s a lie of omission. Maybe because I don’t want him to believe or to even know the truth about me: that I’m not here for love. I’m here for money.

“What they’re saying about me is wrong. I never stole anyone’s money, I never embezzled anything, so you can write that down in your fancy little article. What I have is a real, thriving business.”

“And do you have any business partners, River?” I probe.

He gives me a name that almost makes my heart stop. I scribble it down, though I know it quite well.

It’s Victor Basil, aka Vic B, the name of a renowned Los Angeles businessman.

A man who is known for his shady business dealings, not to mention the plethora of bad deals that he leaves in his wake. I guess he’s more notorious than anything else. However, he’s never been convicted of anything and all the blame always lands on his business partners, leaving him to get out scot-free with millions of dollars, quite conveniently.

There might be more to the story than I previously thought.

“So, how did you meet him?”

“At one of Ryder’s parties that he invited me to.” He gives another chuckle, his hoarse tone making me cringe. “Well, I’d hardly say he invited me. But I figured since he’s my brother, he wouldn’t mind. I just told the bouncer who I was and he unhooked that red velvet rope for me. Perks of having a famous sibling. Too bad Poppy’s business never panned out. Since she just got fired too.”

I ask for more, not really wanting to hear his disdain for his younger sister right now. “So where was this party and when was it?”

Maybe if I focus on the business side of the dealings, I’ll be able to ignore this mixture of regret and guilt burning in my chest, and I’ll tell myself this is a pure financial corruption story, not some tawdry celebrity expose. At least, that’s what I want to believe.

“It was at the Beverly Hills Plaza Hotel. About two years ago,” he says. “It was in June, right around his birthday.”

“And were you invited to his birthday party?” I wonder if this is actually relevant to the article.

“Yeah of course, though he had it with family in Kentucky instead of having some big blowout.” The resentment and his voice are palpable. Does he actually dislike that his brother doesn’t throw a fancy bash for his birthday? Or is he regretting the lack of a networking event? If he’s one of those guys who just hangs onto celebrities in the hope that it will gain him some fame–oh, that could explain why he was so willing to fall for a businessman like this guy.

“I see.” June, two years ago… That was when a hot new sushi restaurant was closed down for apparently embezzling funds from investors. The man he named, Victor Basil, was one of the backers. I only remember because Kaiden and I were going to eat there and pulled up just when police sirens were flashing and they were pulling the owner out in handcuffs.

“Why does that matter?” For the first time since beginning this phone interview, I think I hear a hint of fear in his voice. Defensiveness bubbles up in his tone.

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