Page 22 of Crushing On My Brothers BFF

“Okay,” I reply, an idea striking me. Hard. “If you want me to, I will. While we’re sharing stuff, I need to tell you something.”

“Go on…”

I explain about the letter and the photo.

“And you opened it?” Paul snaps.

I’m so pathetic. Ilieto my brother. Maybe I should get used to that. I’ll have to lie to him again and again and again if I go further with Kaleb. “I didn’t check the address first.”

He frowns, making me wonder if he believes me. “I don’t know,” Paul says. “That sounds pretty odd for Kaleb. He tells me he just works, works out, sleeps, then repeats. Maybe it’s just some crazy fan.”

“Who followed him to our house? Shouldn’t we be worried?”

“Maybe. I’ll talk to him about it. See if he knows who it is.”

My mind flashes with the photo, the woman’s athletic, naked body, her promises that she’d do anything he wanted. No, thathecould do anything he wanted toher. I can’t make that same promise to him.

“Would you mind telling him it was you who found it? If we’ll be working together, I don’t want him to think I was snooping.”

“Sure, sure,” Paul says like it’s no big deal. “Maybe he’s finally found someone. I’ve tried convincing him to find a lady for years, even just for a fling. The East Coast has been weighing too heavy on him.”

I wonder what Paul would say if I told him hehasfound somebody—me.

“He’ll probably want to meet with you to discuss the documentary,” Paul says. “Are you good with that?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?” I ask.

“It might be awkward. I know you saw him occasionally growing up, but it’s not like you were close.”

Paul doesn’t know how wrong that is. On one level, okay, he’s right. Kaleb was never close to me, but I was as close to him as possible: in my dreams and fantasies, in notebooks filled with hearts, and in the silly videos I made.

“Yeah, it’ll be fine,” I say casually.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Kaleb

“This is good stuff,” Tyrone says over the phone on speaker.

It’s the morning after I helped the little girl escape the vultures. I hardly slept last night. After circling the block, I returned to my hotel room and tried to work. When that failed because Sophie was all I could think about, I did a long weights session. Now, I’m running hard in the private gym, the machine bouncing under my weight.

“Peopleloveit,” Tyrone goes on. “Heroic CEO saves terrified child. It’s gold.”

“It wasn’t a publicity stunt,” I snap. “Those bastards would’ve trampled her for a few closeups of an actress. It’s pathetic.”

“And the way you shake the father’s hand after… so respectful, so dignified.”

“Tyrone, this wasn’t about publicity.”

“Sorry,” he replies. “I’m being callous, aren’t I?”

“Yeah,” I tell him, “but don’t worry. I get it. You have to be.”

“It’s going to help us a lot, that’s all,” he continues.

“I know. Between this and the other video, I’ve got a real anti-fame thing going on. It fits right into the brand Free Everywhere, but many of us in modern society aren’t free. We’re trapped. People can empathize. I understand, but it doesn’t mean I feel good about using it for PR.”

“Everything’s PR these days,” Tyrone says.

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