Fool's Gold: A Kisses and Crimes Novel (25 page)

He fakes a punch to my gut as he passes me and stops directly in front of the wooden desk before bending down to kiss Kat.

They start grinning like two Cheshire cats and I step away from the affectionate pair, attempting to slink out of the office before Kat can goad me any further.

Good thing she only caught the tail end of that phone conversation. She doesn’t know… and I don’t
want
her to know.

Elena and I are sneaking around behind her back.

Our impromptu conversations? A ruse.

Well, Elena hanging up on me is not part of the ruse but I digress. Every Thursday, while Kat takes lunch with Foxx, Elena calls our offices and I pick up.

We have a “no-cellphones” policy at the
Tripping Out!
headquarters.

Normally, Elena calls my work phone, but on the off-chance that I can catch her calling Kat’s phone, I pick up, discussing updates with her on the party—the surprise party that she and I are throwing for Foxx and Kat.

The surprise
engagement
party for Mr. Brendon Foxx and Katarina Lexington. Soon to be Mr. and Mrs. Foxx.

I can’t believe Foxx is actually going through with this thing: this whole tying the knot, “till-death-do-us-part” bit.

And I like Kat. I like Kat
a lot
. But a marriage? A contract?
Forever?
I’m not so sure I buy into it.

Still… ever since Kat’s signed on as a writer with the travel magazine that we founded, she and Foxx have been inseparable. And I’ve never seen him so happy.

Maybe it will last… as long as anything really
can
, anyway. Maybe they’re as perfect a pair as it gets—which is a far cry from what Elena and I have.

I’ve been talking to this girl steadily on the phone for more than two months now, and all I want to do is
strangle
her most of the time.

Every time we speak, we wind up aggravating the
fuck
out of each other until I talk enough shit to piss her off and have her hang up on me.

I chuckle to myself as I waltz into my own office, closing the door behind me.

Ok, I admit it.
Part of me spits a bunch of bullshit just to fuck with her a bit, but it’s only because she’s so tightly wound up.

She takes herself way too seriously, and she’s controlling as
hell
. We clash about every single detail of the party: from the décor to the attire to the location.

Honestly?
I couldn’t give two
fucks
about what color lighting we’re going to have at the party, but Little Miss “Can’t Be Wrong” always insists that we talk about more than just the food and booze (which is all I really care about, anyway).

The party hasn’t even started, and already, I can’t wait for it to be over.

Christ.
I scramble to get a good look at my watch again, nearly knocking over the cup of lukewarm coffee on my
desk. I’m late.

I’ve got even
more
of this party shit to attend to.

It's like gambling somehow. You go out for a night of drinking and you don't know where you’re going to end up the next day. It could work out good or it could be disastrous. It's like the throw of the dice… – Jim Morrison

ELENA LEXINGTON

“What’s up, Elle?” Kat says on the other line when she picks up.

I balk, almost tripping over a moving box at the sound of her voice. Her cheery tone is still so shocking to me, and I can’t get over how much she’s changed in such a short amount of time.

My little sister is
happy
… and I’m over the moon about it.

“I, uh… Nothing, I guess… I... can’t really remember…” I stammer. “Kat, I don’t know… I just got thrown off. I can’t
believe
how fantastic you sound.”

She giggles—actually
giggles
—on the other end. “That’s because I am. I
am
fantastic. How are you, Elle?”

“
Me
? I’m fan-fucking-tastic. Mom has been calling me all day and night about what we should do for Ana’s graduation celebration, and you
know
how much I love it when she does that.

“Ted has been sending me letters, threatening to kidnap our dog because he’s still bitter about our break-up.

“Let’s see…
Oh, yeah
… I’m leaving the only home I’ve ever known to move to a city where I know
no one
and my sister and her fiancé have to financially support me…

“On the whole? I’d say that life is just
swell
.”

Kat laughs, recognizing my sarcasm for the humor-laden façade that it is.

“Yeah, it
sounds
really great.” Her laugh tapers off into a quick, mirthless silence.

“Look, Elle… I know that you’re nervous, but believe me; there isn’t
anything
to be nervous about. Brendon and I are just here to help until you get on your feet. That’s
it.
”

She sighs. “There’s nothing left for you in Memphis, and you know it.”

I grow silent over the phone, nearly knocking over another box. I nod as if she can see me. She’s right. There’s nothing left for me here.

Not a job. Not a relationship.
Not a life
…

It’s all gone to shit.

The dance studio where I worked is shutting down…

My ex-boyfriend Ted is trying to
ruin my life
…

And my two best friends in the
world—
my
sisters—
have escaped to the sunny state of Florida where the only connection we’ve managed to have with each other over the past few months has been through AT&T wireless.

This isn’t the sort of life I’d envisioned.

So, I’m going out on a limb, embarking on a fresh start—heading to Tampa.

I’m selling my house and using part of the profit to open up a dance studio—
my own dance studio—
where I can dance and teach without worrying about someone else closing down on me.

With all the disappointment happening for me in Memphis, I’m starting to recognize the importance of venturing out, making a change.
Kat did it
… and look how well it ended up for her.

She’s obtained her ideal…
the man, the money and the profession.
Now, all that’s left is to ensure that she has the ideal
wedding
.

And that’s where I come in.

The engagement party—the wedding.

You only get one chance, just
one
time to do it right. If all goes well, there will only be
one
wedding in Kat’s future.

And I am going to
make sure
that my little sister has the celebration of her dreams… if I have to kill
myself (or Lukas) to do it.

***

LUKAS

“What do you know about Elena?” I say, adjusting my tie.

“Elena
?
Kat’s sister?”

“Yeah.
That
Elena.
Why
? You know another one?”

Chris adjusts his sleeves in the mirror, turning around to check out his lapels.

“Nothing much—just what Foxx has told me… which isn’t a lot.”

I stiffen, staring pointedly at Chris. He catches my look, glancing quickly at the other customers in the tuxedo shop.

“
What
? Griff, I don’t know what you want me to say. I know the same things you know.
Nothing.
”

I frown, smoothing out my tuxedo jacket.

Chris knows nothing.
I
know nothing. And I have to come face-to-face with this girl in
one week
.

I know Chris isn’t lying. Foxx wouldn’t reveal much to me, either. When I asked him about Elena, he blew me off for the most part, warning me to stay away from her.

“Stay away from her.”
What the fuck did Foxx think I was going to do?
Fuck her from five hundred miles away?

I promptly told him that I wouldn’t touch Elena with a ten-foot pole. And I wouldn’t… but I
am
curious.

Over two and a half months of talking to this phantom voice—and I have no idea what the face behind it looks like.

Her pitch is deeper than her sister’s. Her laugh is husky and low.

When I first spoke to her on the phone, I was intrigued. I Googled her name.
I found nothing.
I’ve been in the dark ever since.

I don’t even know her age…

“Hey!” Chris says, snapping fingers near my face. “I’ve been talking to you.”

His face is as red as his strawberry-blonde hair, and he looks huffy and flustered in his pre-tailored tux. I almost laugh at his sudden outrage.

We make an odd pairing, he and I.

Where he has pale skin and red hair, I have a tanned coloring and deep brown hair, almost black. His stature, while not short, appears Hobbit-sized because of his poor posture. I, on the other hand, am built strong and long at 6’1”.

Chris places a hand on my shoulder.

“Get your head in the game, Griff. I need your opinion on this tux. I’ve gotta go. Lunch is almost up, and I’ve got a meeting with an editor at two o’clock.”

I sigh. I wish that Chris were handling this party planning with Elena; I really do.

But with
Tripping Out!
keeping his hours long and his temper short, I’m the only one left to oversee the party. And if you ask Elena, I’m not doing such a bang-up job of even
that
.

“So, how’s the party going, anyway?” Chris asks, intuitively.

“Ha.” I unhook the buttons at my cuffs. “Don’t ask. This planning’s turning into a
major
fucking pain.”

He shakes his head, shrugging out of his own jacket. “You know what’s even
more
of a pain? Ex-girlfriends showing up…”

I grin. “Which one of your former headaches is showing up to the engagement party?”

“Well, that’s the thing,” he grimaces. “I’m not talking about me. I’m talking about you.”

“Me?
I’m
the headache?”

“No… but you might have one at the party. I hear Trina’s trying to come.”

The color drains from my face.
Trina
.

My ex/”non-ex” Trina—the last girl I had any sort of “relationship” with.

Trina was fun when I met her—sexy and breezy—but when I decided that what we were having wasn’t working for me, she flipped, turning from a dream-come-true into a clingy
nightmare
.

I heard she had been dabbling in the Tampa druggie scene lately, but I’m not very inclined to believe it. Trina’s never been that type of girl. Or at least, she wasn’t…

I shake the notion off.

Doesn’t matter.

Considering how small the Tampa social circle is, I’m sure that every woman who hates me in this state—
plus a few who aren’t
—will be at this party.

Including one face-less, humor-less dragon herself…

***

Saturday night rolls around and for the second week in a row, I waver between whether or not to hit the downtown bars.

Chris refuses to hang out any later than midnight, and the run-in with the Roofie/X/God-knows-what pill has me on edge about picking up any new women.

I could easily visit some of my old haunts—both women and pubs, but I’m over those scenes. I’m bored. I need something different for a change.

I pull out my laptop while in my bed, searching for any new Tampa bars, when I get pinged on my Skype.

I glance at the alarm clock near my bed. It’s past eleven on a Saturday. Who the hell could be hitting me up now?

I open the message.

Elle-Lexy:

Where are you? I’ve been calling your phone all night and getting no answer. I want to talk to you about the music for the party.

Elena.
What in the world…? How the
fuck
did this girl get my Skype information?

I type a quick response.

LukasGriff:

Phone’s off. Chris has been a bug up my ass, and I needed the peace. And, frankly, you’re disrupting it. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.

Elle-Lexy:

Fine. Have it your way. But you’ll be taking a chance on the music selection. If the whole night winds up being one big melody of One Direction songs, don’t say I didn’t warn you.

Shit.
She wouldn’t do that just to spite me, would she?

Yes. Yes, she would.

LukasGriff:

Jesus. No. Hell no, Elena. This is a party. A party. You can’t torture half of the guests.

Elle-Lexy:

No, I wouldn’t want to, but I’m getting overwhelmed here. So, if you want your crappy ass Coldplay songs to get included in the playlists, I suggest you find some time to discuss them with the DJ and me.

Coldplay? Who said anything about Cold…?
Kat. Kat must’ve told her.

LukasGriff:

Fine. I’ve got a couple of minutes to talk. Go ahead.

I lean back against my headboard, readjusting my boxer briefs as I settle in. It’s barely 11:30PM, and already my night has gone to shit.

Elena and I manage to come up with a playlist for the party, and while the party is definitely a black-tie affair, we come up with enough lively music and classics to keep the event fun, but respectable.

The bad part of it? It doesn’t take a few minutes; it takes an
hour
, and I’m not even dressed. My Saturday night is nearly sunk. Of course, I blame Elena.

LukasGriff:

Looks like you’ve got what you wanted, Elena. You’ve fucked up another Saturday night.

Frankly, it isn’t all her fault, but I don’t give a
shit
right now. I’m pissed. And
horny.

At this rate, it doesn’t look like I’ll get to fuck tonight—and I don’t ever go this long without fucking.
Ever.