The Hunter

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?

Hunter: They were dropped. And if I say yes?

Lana: Sailor drops out of the race, and I leave you to pick up the pieces. Although I must say, I’m the better option.

Hunter: Let’s agree to disagree. Just so you know, I’m not going to fuck you, kiss you, or touch you. So let’s get that out of the way.

Lana: (laughs) I’m all set in that department. Save your charity fucks for someone who needs them, like Sailor. Playing pretend is enough. She’ll be coming here soon. Lose the shirt, stud.

I stopped the recording again, raising an eyebrow. If that wasn’t sufficient proof I hadn’t been porking her archenemy, I didn’t know what was. Problem was, I couldn’t exactly relay all this shit to her on the phone or via text messages. Because, illegal.

She chewed on the skin around her thumbnail, then shook her head, squeezing her eyes shut.

“It doesn’t matter. None of it matters. Another month together wouldn’t have done us any good. Not me, anyway. I am already in l—” She stopped herself, breathing hard, realizing what she was about to say.

“You’re what?” I pressed. “What did you want to say?”

“Never mind. Anyway, it doesn’t matter. We had a month left, and I don’t want it. You’re free of the contract. I’m sure your father has already told you your inheritance won’t be affected.”

My father didn’t tell me shit, actually, since I’d been dodging his and my mother’s calls since this blew up, but whatever. I didn’t have time to correct her. I wanted to tell her so many things. But when she hopped down from the hood and made her way to her car, I couldn’t stop her.

Couldn’t stop her because she was right. A few more weeks wouldn’t matter.