She shot me an angry look that said it better be worth it.
I wanted to kiss her little freckled nose, and I hated myself for losing the privilege to do so because of some stupid misunderstanding.
“I found out who set us up, who made this shit with Lana leak,” I said, taking a moment to appreciate how dope the hashtag would be: #LanaLeak. Sailor didn’t share my admiration for my superior wit. She rolled her eyes, picking up the duffel bag I’d tossed away, and hoisting it on her shoulder.
“Not this again.”
I hit play before she could say anything else. The recording started. Junsu and Lana were talking somewhere loud. A diner, by the sound of customers and the gum-popping waitress who insisted on topping off their coffees every five seconds.
Junsu: I don’t know what it’s going to take for Sailor to give up competition. Maybe not ever. She want it bad. I try with her shoulder being inflamed, but she got it treated, refused to make it worse.
Lana: Well, you should’ve tried harder, Junsu. That’s what my team paid you for—to make sure this wouldn’t come to a point where I’d have to compete with her. Do you have any idea how pissed my sponsors will be if I don’t make it to the Olympics? There’s a lot on the line. Last I checked, I paid you the money for your kid’s college in full.
Junsu: I know. I thinking of other possibilities to stop her.
Lana: Lay it on me, old man. I’m willing to try anything at this point. I’ll lose a movie deal if I don’t get to the Olympics. It’s, like, in the actual contract with the studio, that I’ll make it to the Olympics. Can you believe it? People are trash.
Junsu: There is one more way, I think. She has agreement with the boy. The pretty, rich one. Secret deal. This how she got all the sudden publicity. I think maybe touching that will help. She live with him now.
Lana: What rich boy? What agreement? I knew it! I knew there was something weird going on. This bitch didn’t pop all over my newsfeed for no reason. Someone is pushing her. Who’s the guy?
Junsu: I have the name here. Wait. He has been coming to club lately. I think they may be couple. I think he is—how you say?—her Achilles’ heel. I think he the key to sorting this mess.
This was the part where Junsu must’ve passed his phone to Lana. Then:
Lana: Hmm. Hunter Fitzpatrick. Heard about him. Wouldn’t mind being his arm candy for the winter. Let’s set this up, Junsu. You do the dirty work and make sure I have access to him. I’ll bring the paps. Start working for what you were paid to do.
Junsu: Okay. Just don’t hurt her. Don’t hurt Sailor. She can still have next Olympics. Yes?
Lana: By the next Olympics I will be a gazillionaire and Sailor will be a virgin spinster who has nothing but archery in her life. I’ll be out of the game and deep into my acting career. She can have the Olympics then.
I ripped the AirPod from my ear, killing the recording. The rest was more bullshit Lana spewed about Sailor, which she didn’t need to hear. Sailor’s huge jade eyes stared up at me, the gold and gray in them glittering. Every muscle in her body looked tight and strained, and I found this moment to ponder the stupidest thing in the universe—if we ever had kids, what eye color would they have, between my deep blue and her wild green?
How about focus on her not wanting to murder you first, old sport?
“Hell if I know how he found out about the agreement.” I shook my head. “But there you have it.”
“God, Hunter. I told him. About our agreement. About…” She cupped her mouth, keeling like she was about to throw up. “I did this. I told Junsu. And he used it against me. Lana bribed him. Jesus Christ. My own trainer…” She trailed off, straightening her spine and pacing back and forth in the parking lot, pulling at her short tresses.
It was a lot to take in. Sailor and Junsu had worked together for a long time. I rubbed her back, surprised that she let me. Then again, she was in shock. She kept saying, “He betrayed me” over and over again. Then the tune changed to, “And you betrayed me, too.”
“Now, hold that thought.” I grabbed her by the waist and hoisted her to sit on some random car’s hood.
She slapped my hands away, scowling at me. “I know what I saw.”
“No, you know what you think you saw. Around the time your shoulder was injured, I started suspecting Junsu’s motives. His behavior seemed at odds with that of a trainer who wanted his athlete to succeed. I already had recording devices and Sherlock Holmes’ equipment coming out of my ass, so I figured—what’s another offense to my list of growing breaches of privacy? I was getting good at playing super spy. I wired him up unbeknownst to him, just for shits and giggles, and have been listening to him periodically. One in the piggy bank. The other in a watch that’s a replica of the one he put on his desk for a second to try my Rolex.”
Her eyes widened in shock. “You came to visit Junsu?”
I nodded. “Pretended to take an interest in private lessons. Scared the bejesus out of him when I said I wanted to learn so I could survive post-apocalypse.”
That earned me a faint smile. Tough crowd.
I soldiered on. “These recordings won’t hold in court, aingeal dian, because my ass had no business wiring him up. The day you so-called caught Lana and me doing it, I came in because Junsu said he had something to show me. It sounded a lot like a threat, and I worried it was about you. Only it wasn’t Junsu who walked into his office. It was Lana. And she caught me messing with his drawers. It looked bad. Like, horrible. She thought I was trying to find juice on him—which was true—and had me by the balls. But I knew the wire in the piggy bank was still working, so I pretended to cooperate with her, knowing I could prove to you that nothing happened. Also, she gave me the information I was after.”
I hit the play button again on my phone, this time on another trimmed section of the recording. The AirPod still in Sailor’s ear began to play.
Lana: Busted, pretty boy.
Hunter: You scared the living shit out of me. I was just on my way out.
Lana: Where do you think you’re going? We both know you’re not supposed to be here.
Hunter: Junsu called me.
Lana: To go through his drawers? I don’t think so.
Hunter: And what brings you here? Got a taste for older men?
Lana: Only if they serve my purposes.
Hunter: Hey. What the fuck are you doing?
Lana: Texting my friends from the local newspapers our whereabouts. And Junsu, too, to tell your girl to come over here and see this. We’re about to raise a scandal, baby.
Hunter: Why would Junsu answer your ass? I’ve met bricks less tough than him.
Lana: Because we’re working together on something—no point in keeping you in the dark. You’re about to become a part of my plan. Lose your shirt.
Hunter: Lose your entitled, shit-eating grin first.
Lana: Meow. I wouldn’t cross me, pretty boy. I’m a girl on a mission, and right now, you’re it.
Hunter: God, you sound like a B-grade porn adaptation of the Power Rangers. I mean, it sounds like something I’d be into, but surprisingly, it’s not.
Lana: Lose. The. Shirt.
Hunter: What if I say no?
Lana: You leave here in handcuffs and even your daddy won’t be able to explain what you were doing breaking into a locked drawer. Especially seeing as you’ve already had a brush with the police this year. Rape charges, right?