Page 59 of Kiss Me Honey Hone
Before she could argue, Kenny spotted an open-plan office space just beyond the front reception where rows of mismatched desks crammed together, some piled high with papers, others glowing with the pale blue light of computer screens andTaylorhunched near the back.
Kenny strode past the receptionist.
“Sir, you can’t just—”
“Watch me.”
As Kenny marched farther into the office, he saw all the screens were playing the video in question, its title bold and damning:The Howell Legacy: Is Child A Behind the Ryston Murders?And Taylor scrolled through the comments section, a stream of emojis, accusations, and sensational speculation pouring in faster than he could read them. So Kenny didn’t bother with warnings or pleasantries. He locked onto Taylor, revelling in the chaos he’d unleashed, and his rage boiled over.
Grabbing Taylor by the front of his shirt, he yanked him to his feet. His chair toppled to the floor, alerting the others in the office to the commotion, but Kenny gave them no time to respond as he hauled Taylor through the rows of desks, past wide-eyed onlookers too stunned to intervene, and dragged him into the accessibility toilet at the end of the office. He shoved him inside, kicked the door shut, and locked it.
“Jesus, fuck!” Taylor straightened, saving face. To whom, Kenny didn’t know because there was no one in here but Taylor and him. “Come to give a statement directly?”
“You think this is a joke?” Kenny edged his face inches from Taylor’s. “Think playing with people’s lives is some kind of fucking game? Getting likes and comments more important than the truth, is it?”
Taylor tried to push past, but Kenny shoved him back.
“Let me out.” Taylor’s bravado faltered.
“Not until you tell me where you got the information on Child A.”
“A journalist can’t reveal their sources.”
“You’re not a journalist,” Kenny growled. “You’re a fuckingparasite. And you’ve just thrown a match onto a powder keg. Do you have any idea what you’ve done?”
“I’m reporting the truth!” Taylor choked out, voice rising in desperation. “People deserve to know—”
“You don’t know the first thing about the truth! What you’ve done isn’ttruth. It’s not even journalism. It’s speculation. Baseless, dangerous speculation that could destroy innocent lives. And for what? Views? Likes? To boost your pathetic little ego? So you look like the big man on campus? Couldn’t do it with drugs, so now you try with lies?”
Taylor glared, despite the nerves flashing in his eyes.
Insistent knocking from behind the door interrupted, followed by a sharp demand of, “Open up!”
Taylor made a move for the door, but Kenny pushed him back again, harder this time. “I may not beyourprofessor, but let me give youthislesson. Your name will be mud. You’re burying your career before it’s even started as no one in either the police or any professional circles are going to take a two-bit chasing headline hack seriously. Take the video down.” He prodded Taylor’s chest. “Explain it was a hoax. Tell me where you got the information on Child A, and I won’t go to the administration about how you dabble with Rohypnol at your parties.”
Taylor swallowed hard, the defiance in his expression cracking just enough to reveal his worry, but the knocking turned into pounding and soon enough, the door burst open with a woman and a security guard next to her.
“Who the hell do you think you are coming in here and accosting my intern?”
“Are you Carly Reynolds?”
She folded her arms. “Yes. And who are you?”
“Dr Kenneth Lyons.”
Carly swallowed, noticeably uneasy. She knew his name. Knew who he was. And she was well aware of how far she’d overstepped a mark. Kenny doubted she gave much care to honesty and integrity in her line of work. She had targets and used Taylor to meet them.
“I’d rethink your reporting methods if I were you.” Kenny kept himself deceptively calm, but there was steel beneath it. “Breaking a sealed record? That’s not just unethical—it’s illegal. You’re looking at contempt charges at best, possibly even criminal prosecution. And believe me, the courts won’t be sympathetic.”
He stepped away from Taylor, and when he reached the door, he turned back. “Do us both a favour and keep your intern on a leash. Because if he pulls another stunt like this, it won’t just be me coming for him.”
“News is news, Dr Lyons. If you would like to put something on the record, we can do that.”
“Go fuck yourself.” Kenny barged past her. “You can put that as the fucking headline in your fucking useless piece of trash rag.”
He was about to leave when Taylor’s voice, quaking and unsure, halted him in his tracks. “Is it Aaron?”
Kenny didn’t turn around, didn’t acknowledge the question.
