Are we being watched?
Keaton seems to think so and I’m not far behind him.
Those times Nate showed up, he made a beeline straight for the bar each time. I lean close and whisper to Keaton that we need to check the bar area. He gives me a clipped nod of understanding.
“Want to get shit-faced and watch a movie?” Keaton asks, his voice loud.
My heart is hammering in my chest. “Yeah, sure.”
“Go turn on a movie in your room. No chick-flick shit. Action. Explosions. Something exciting.” And loud. Noted.
I give him a bright smile as I casually walk into the living room. Then, I make my way into my bedroom. Once I turn on the television, I increase the volume and land it on an obnoxious action movie. Peeking around the corner, I note Keaton’s back as he rummages around to make a drink.
“Need a hand?” I ask, prancing over to him. “I’m not that bad of a bartender.”
We carry on, chattering about nothing of importance as we make our drinks. Both of us are discreetly looking for any cameras or bugs. There’s a plant toward the end of the bar. I glance over at it looking for anything of interest.
“Here you go,” Keaton says, handing me a drink. “This is the good stuff.” He points to an old bottle of liquor at the back of the collection along the wall. “What movie did you choose?”
I notice the tiny black device taped to the side of the bottle. While I chatter about the actors in the movie, I set a dark bottle in front of the bottle with the device on it, blocking its view. We carry on our talking on our way toward the bedroom. Keaton leans in and closes the door. The movie plays a muffled sound while we tiptoe back to the entryway. He takes our drinks, sets them down soundlessly on the table by the door, and quietly turns the lock. It’s understood we need to be silent, so neither of us speak as we sneak out of the apartment. Keaton locks it back and then grabs my elbow, motioning me away from the elevator and toward a stairwell. It’s not until we’re about five flights down and I’m panting, does Keaton speak.
“Neither Win nor Perry are answering, but that’s to be expected,” he says in a low tone. “I texted them to let them know we’re leaving.”
“Where are we going to?” I ask, my chest panting with exertion.
He shakes his head. “I’ll tell you in the car.”
I glance over my shoulder, paranoid that Nate is following, but no one is there. It’s smart not to announce where we’re going, though. I bite on my lip and nod. By the time we’ve made it down the million flights of stairs, Keaton has called the valet to bring his car to a side door. We head opposite of the lobby and out the door once we reach the first floor. Outside, a tricked-out black Range Rover waits at the curb. A valet tosses Keaton his keys and Keaton hands him a wad of hundreds. We both climb in and Keaton gets us the hell out of there.
“This is my fault,” I grumble, lungs still screaming in protest at us going the long way down from Win’s. “I let Nate in. I thought he was allowed to be there.”
“It wouldn’t surprise me if Nate had a key,” Keaton grunts, “but the fact he’s watching what goes on in Winston’s house is fucking creepy.”
“But he doesn’t have a key. And why would he be doing that? What’s his problem? Is he trying to catch me doing something?” I ask, frustration bleeding in my words. “You saw how much he hates me.”
“I don’t know, but my brother won’t be happy.”
“I feel like an idiot.”
Keaton sighs as he puts on his blinker. “People are always out to get us, Ash. Always. When I’m at Pembroke, it’s different. I sometimes forget about how ruthless this city is. But, every holiday and summer, I’m reminded. Now that you’re Winston’s girlfriend, his enemies become your enemies. It’s just the way things are.”
“But Nate is his best friend. His beef is with me, not Win, right?”
Keaton scoffs. “Anyone who messes with Winston’s things has beef with my brother. He doesn’t take that shit lightly.”
“I prefer girlfriend over things,” I huff out.
“My point is it won’t matter that Nate is his best friend. This is a gross abuse of Winston’s trust.” Keaton shrugs. “He’s possessive over you. If he thinks this is a threat against you, he’ll retaliate in kind.”
“I don’t know,” I argue, “I tried to tell him Nate’s an asshole of epic proportions and shady. We fought over it. He left me and basically ignored me for days.”
“Hmm.”
A laugh bubbles out of me. “That was probably every Constantine’s first word.”