It takes three bags to find the towels, but I’m finally rewarded by the brush of terrycloth beneath my fingers. The towels are wedged deep beneath a down comforter, and I silently curse my poor packing skills as I dump everything on the floor. I’m just grabbing the towels when I hear it.
At first, I think it’s just a television—from our neighbors above us, perhaps—but then I realize it’s coming from the guest bedroom, and I recognize Lou’s voice.
Crap. I didn’t realize she was awake. Here I am, butt-ass naked outside her door. With my luck she’ll decide she needs to use the bathroom or grab a glass of water or something.
She seems to be on the phone. I don’t mean to eavesdrop, but it’s impossible not to catch a few words.
“As soon as possible,” she says. She pauses—listening to the person on the other end of the line, I assume—before adding, “It doesn’t matter. Just put anything on there. No… something that sounds like a real name. But not too strange. Something generic.” Another pause. “Fine. That’s fine. Just hurry.”
In spite of myself, I’m drawn closer to the door. I know I shouldn’t be listening, but something about this doesn’t sound right.
Lou is sounding more and more exasperated. “It doesn’t matter. As long as it looks real.” Pause. “I’m not trying to trick the CIA. Just get past the hiring manager.” Pause. “Light brown is fine. I’ll get it chemically straightened if I have to.”
Okay, something is definitely not right here. I don’t know what Lou is planning, but it doesn’t sound good. Or particularly legal.
When she speaks again, her voice is lower. I want to take another step closer to the door, but the warning bells are going off in my head. Do I really want to get in the middle of this? The more I know, the more complicated it gets.
But this is Calder’s sister. Whatever trouble Lou has gotten herself into will be Calder’s problem as well. I have to know what’s going on.
I’m within inches of the door now. I can hear the hum of Lou’s voice, but I can’t make out any of the words. I lean forward and press my ear right against the door.
“I’ll pay you double if you can get it done this week,” she says. Another pause. “Geez! No! I don’t want to get arrested for identity theft.”
I jerk away from the door, my stomach falling. What could she possibly be planning? She mentioned a hiring manager, so perhaps she’s talking about a job… but what did she mean when she asked for “something that sounds like a real name”? It sounds as if she’s trying to acquire some sort of fake identification. But to what purpose? And her family’s been all over the tabloids—wouldn’t people recognize her anyway?
There are too many questions, and I know I’m not going to get all of the answers from one side of a phone conversation. Through a door, no less.
I clutch the towels to my chest and return to the bathroom. It’s none of my business anyway. I promised myself that I’d give Lou the benefit of the doubt, and what do I do? I eavesdrop on her private phone conversation. I overhear a few sentences out of context and twist them in my head. For all I know, she could be talking about something completely innocent.
In the middle of the night. After an evening spent committing vandalism and running from security. Sure, that sounds legit.
I can’t really blame her for breaking onto the Cunningham estate. After all, it wasn’t so very long ago that I committed the same crime and ran away from what I assumed at the time was a security guard. It was only my good fortune that the “guard” was Calder and that his attraction to me trumped his desire to see me arrested. I could have just as easily been in Lou’s shoes—hiding out and hoping that no one got any damning photos or identifying information.
I admire her spirit for defending, in her own way, the Cunningham estate. I have to remind myself that it wasn’t just Calder’s childhood home—it was hers, too. Calder spent hours showing me around, telling me stories about his life. He pointed out the places he and his sister used to play, described the games they used to invent. He always looked so happy, talking about those things, and I can only imagine Lou looks upon those memories with equal fondness. I saw what the loss of that home did to Calder; who am I to judge how Lou handles the same tragedy?
Still, I can’t shake the feeling that something’s wrong. Call it women’s intuition. Call it gut instinct. I only know I won’t sit easy until I know what she’s plotting. Not for her sake, but for Calder’s. He wants to make this relationship with his sister work, but it’s not fair to him if she’s getting into trouble behind his back.
Calder’s already under the water when I enter the bathroom.
“I was just about to launch a rescue mission,” he says.
“They were hiding,” I say. I turn toward the counter, making a show of propping up the towels so I have a moment to gather my thoughts.
But Calder knows me too well.
“What’s going on?” he asks. “Is everything okay?”
I should tell him. If his sister is up to no good, then the sooner he knows, the better. He can stop this madness before it escalates. On the other hand, telling him means doing the one thing I promised myself I wouldn’t do: getting in the middle of this thing between Calder and his sister. And over what? A few sentence fragments that I didn’t quite understand? It might be nothing. I don’t want to contribute to any further ill-will between the siblings over a few flimsy suspicions.
“Everything’s fine,” I tell him. If Lou insists on getting herself into trouble, then we’ll deal with it as it comes. In the meantime, her phone conversations and personal affairs are none of my business. I have a beautiful naked man waiting for me.
I practically leap into the shower beside him.
“Where were we?” I ask, clasping my hands behind his neck and kissing him. The warm water pouring over my head feels amazing after such a long, exhausting day, but it’s nowhere near as good as his butter-soft lips.
He indulges my kiss for a long, delicious moment before pulling away.
“Something’s bothering you,” he says. “Don’t try to deny it. You’re a terrible liar.”
That’s one of the downsides to reaching this particular stage of coupledom: you know each other so well that it’s impossible to hide anything, even if you’re hiding something for all the right reasons.