Deep in my mind, I always considered Lance her accessory–not to crime but like a purse. And everything about Kins was…larger than life. She made Amanda feel small. She was everything I wished I could be. Fearless and strong, with unwavering loyalty.
And I fucked it all up.
I would give up my career and all the awards on my shelf if I could talk to her again. Every few years around this time, I get very nostalgic, and I hire some PI to try to find her. They always come back empty handed. A little while ago, I saw her at an event with the most powerful man in the world on her arm. I don’t have a shot in hell with her, but at least I could apologize and maybe get some closure.
“Hey, does your company have anyone who can track down someone?”
“Yeah,” Darren laughs. “We’ve got a few people who fucking love doing that.”
“I’m searching for my high school girlfriend, Kinsley Adams. No social media, parents won’t talk to me or anyone else. I’ve tried for years, and it always comes back empty.”
“I’ve got you man.” He hangs up, no goodbyes. My hope of ever seeing her again is doubtful at best. While I wallowed in my misery, I decided to read Craig’s text.
Craig: Hey Man, I’ve got a ticket to a charity event. There’s a first episode script of Knights of the Night for auction. Interested?
I blink at the screen for a few seconds. If finding Kinsley has been my white whale, then that script has been my white dolphin. My fan heart explodes.
Craig: Oh shit, sorry. You’re on a press tour.
Wahoo! I guess having morals and values is finally paying off.
Me: I got kicked off the tour. I want the ticket.
Craig: What? How? What did you do?
Me: I implied the studio was racist…. No regrets, can I have the ticket please?
Craig: Um sure… one catch.
Craig: It’s tomorrow night from 8-11 pm.
No! The Knights of the Night Series Retrospective is happening tomorrow. Two hours of interviews, behind the scenes and even a ten-minute preview of the season premiere. But I’m a smart man, I can figure out how to be in two places at once. Easy.
Me: Where is it?
Craig: The Black Diamond Hotel.
I fist pump in the air. I’m getting a room for the night. Done. I’ll watch the show in peace and come back down to place the final bid. Perfect. Tiny wins are what I need to keep ignoring the painful reality that I'll spend another night alone. Hell, at least this will make it easy to maintain Cautionary Discretion Protocol.
CHAPTER 3
Alana
Disaster struck my house this morning. I was running late, spilled coffee on one shirt and had to switch to a different blue blouse. Then as I was buttoning my new shirt, I crushed Midge’s favorite box.
The one with the crinkle paper.
My munchkin cat shoots me a judgmental glare. Baby’s taking after her mama. I’m proud and a little scared.
The roads are stupid for a Sunday morning, and I’m in a mood when I walk into the office. Half the team is already in the meeting, and the rest are either on vacation or staying with Level A and B clients. Darren looks rougher than normal but better than I expected. He’s in the middle of talking when I enter the room.
“...been looking for her for a while. He was wondering if we could track down his high school girlfriend.”
“Who?” I ask as I walk toward my chair at the head of the table.
“Grae,” Macie answers. Nausea isn’t the right word for it. Unholy food poisoning while skydiving could be a better explanation.
“That’s going to be a problem,” I choke out. The group stares at me waiting patiently for an explanation, so I blurt out, “Mellisa’s currently a stain on the hallway carpet.” Which is really fucking annoying since everyone else’s blood was easy to remove. Now I’ve got to replace all the floors.