35. Ciaran

35

CIARAN

I n the time that it took me to go back to my room and change into jeans, a pullover sweater (I left on Matty's T-shirt), and sneakers, Matty had already changed into the clothes he'd selected earlier. He also opened his safe and extracted the duffel bag.

"What's in the bag?" I asked.

His head popped up. His hair was still messy. He glanced at what I was wearing and I saw an appreciative gleam in his eyes I didn't quite understand. I was relieved that he'd agreed to go slow. It was fairly obvious that Matty was much more experienced than me. Part of me was worried he'd get bored, that I wouldn't excite him, but I'd deal with that bridge if I came to it.

"We think it's a fertility statue," Matty said. "Joan's contact is, unfortunately, skittish about its authenticity."

"Do you think tonight will go badly?"

Up until now, I hadn't considered how dangerous their operation might be. I didn't know all the details, but from what I could tell, Matty, Joan, and Filipe were buying illegal artifacts from LAX customs and…and what?

Selling it to the highest bidder?

Bartering it for something in return?

I just didn't know what they gained from orchestrating such a dangerous activity.

Both our phones dinged at the same time. It was Joan texting us, letting us know they were outside the Vaulteneau estate gate. Joan sent a selfie of her behind the wheel of her car. Filipe, in the far left frame of the image, was smiling and offering a peace sign.

"With Joan driving, it might go bad," Matty said with a smirk. "Her purple race car attracts all kinds of attention."

I put my phone in my back pocket and crossed my arms over my chest. "More so than your cherry-red Ferrari Stradale?"

"Valid point," Matty conceded. "But it's her contact and they'll expect her to be the one driving. It will be a tight fit for us in the back seat. Sorry about that." His grin belied his words.

"I'll brace myself against your licentious ways, Matty."

"Big words are sexy." He stole a kiss. "Our not-very-licentious job will be to hold the statue very carefully during the drive." He gently lifted the bag and cradled it in his arms. Something flicked across his face. Worry? Discomfort? And something else…terror? Whatever was going on, keeping the statue in perfect condition was of upmost importance. "Can you lock up the guesthouse on our way out?"

He jerked his head toward the bowl on his desk. In it, I spotted a set of house keys. I grabbed the keys as I followed him downstairs and outside the house. The sun was already low in the sky. The yard between the guesthouse and the main house was cluttered with pool floaties, beer cans, and toppled-over beach lounge chairs.

"Did everyone leave in a hurry?" I asked.

"Most left but others went down to the beach to surf. Davies or someone on the transportation staff will let them back in the side gate and retrieve their cars for them."

"Who cleans up the mess?"

"We'll take care of it in the morning. Miss Paulina knows to leave it to us."

"Us?" I asked with humor in my voice.

"Yes. Us ." His mouth twitched. "You live here now, don't you?"

We walked through the pedestrian door at the main gate and I saw Joan standing beside her car. It was such a deep shade of purple that it was almost black. The neon lights that wrapped around the bottom part of the car gave it a festive, carnival feel.

Filipe must still be sitting in the passenger side.

"True, I do live here, but," I answered once we were within hearing distance of Joan. "My room feels like a hotel."

"A good hotel or a bad hotel?" Joan asked as she opened her door. She slid the driver's seat forward so that we could slip inside the backseat.

"A posh hotel, darling," I said in a faux British accent. "But it doesn't feel like me ." I returned to my normal voice. "It's nice, don't get me wrong, but I'm not very comfortable. Other than completing my school assignments, I haven't been able to write a single scrap of fiction in the room."

Concern marred Matty's expression. "You can redecorate your bedroom to fit your needs." He passed the statue to me, which was heavier than I thought it would be, to hold while he climbed into the back seat. Once he was seated, I climbed in, and we settled the status to lie across our laps. Matty wasn't lying, it was a very tight fit as I squeezed against him. "Order anything you want. New furniture, decorations, wall accents. Make it yours, Ciaran. No one is going to stop you."

"I thought Stefon was moving me into the main house when they returned?" I asked.

"Like hell he is," Matty blurted before quickly amending, "Well, I mean, he was . You can move into the main house, if you want." It was too dark for me to see if he was embarrassed, but his voice sounded like he was. "But I like having you next door."

Before I could react to that, Filipe asked, "Wait a minute, Matty. What happened to the nursery in the main house?"

"Nursery?" I asked, now curious. Joan straightened the driver's seat and slid in. With my knees pressed against the back of her seat, I felt trapped in the back. "And, oh my God, you weren't wrong about the back seat, Matty." I was practically in his lap. "If we weren't already acquainted, we would be now."

If it wasn't for the awkwardly shaped duffel bag draped over our legs, my right hand would land right in his crotch. Matty fitted an arm around my shoulder and I nestled closer. He smelled like the salty ocean, minty lip balm, and the faint, clean scent of his deodorant.

Filipe chuckled. "You two behave back there."

"Just so you all know," I added, "this is what a coach class seat feels like. It's claustrophobic, not romantic."

Joan laughed. "Good thing you won't have to experience coach airfare ever again." She turned in her seat to face the back seat, her expression one of glee. "But, to answer your question, before you arrived, Ciaran, Matty here was brainstorming ways to get you out of the guesthouse. He wanted Miss Paulina to decorate a nursery for you."

"You are not helping, Joan." Matty's frustrated groan amused me. "Why don't you stick to driving?"

"I am an excellent multitasker," she said. She fired up the car and shot out of the cul-de-sac like a jet at takeoff. "Of course, Ciaran," she yelled over the rumble of the car's high-octane engine, "this all occurred before we realized that you weren't a baby but a major babe ." It was my turn to blush. At least Matty was willing to admit he was wrong. "When Matty wouldn't let me jump your bones, Filipe and I knew how the wind was blowing."

"What?" I sputtered. I knew that Joan was flirty, but she wanted to jump my bones ? I didn't think a girl had ever said that to me. Matty's shoulders shook with laughter and I felt him vibrate against me. "There is so much to unpack here but maybe I should only just say, ‘thank you for the compliment,' and leave it at that."

"Smart move," Filipe said. "Took me years to come to that realization."

"Oh, just go back to napping, why don't you," Joan said without heat.

To me, it was clear the three of them were extremely close. A warm feeling spread through my chest because they were including me. For the first time since leaving Vegas, I didn't have a hopeless sensation deep in my gut.

"Tell Matty to keep Coach Anderson off our asses," Filipe griped, "and maybe I can stay awake after practice to satisfy you, mi amor."

"I can't help that Coach is a prick," Matty replied.

"Speaking of Coach Anderson," I called out. "Matty said you guys had more information about the, uh, situation."

Joan and Filipe were silent for a long moment and worry briefly gnawed at my belly. I saw that Joan's gaze flickered in the rearview mirror whereas Filipe turned to look Matty directly in the face. It was clear they were asking if it was okay to discuss it with me. I admired their loyalty.

Matty nodded. "Filipe, why don't you fill Ciaran in on your theory."

"So, here's the thing, Coach Anderson is a killer coach," Filipe started. "He knows the sport inside and out, but he's not connected here on the West Coast. He's from, like Nebraska or something. Not that that's a bad thing, but Nebraska's a far cry from Malibu. Do you get what I'm saying?"

"It's a different country out here," Joan added.

"I get what you mean," I said. "Go on."

"So he'd been coaching for two years at USC before Matty entered the program. Coach latched onto our boy hard and fast, like a fuckin' leech. When your family is the twentieth-richest family in the entire world, you get straphangers like that. For a while we thought he was coming on to Matty, like a groomer or something, but he never so much as put a hand on Matty."

"Coach threw a lot of stuff at me, though," Matty said.

"Coach is a terrible shot, so he ended up hitting all of us," Filipe said with a short laugh. "Anyway, Coach starts setting up meetings with Stefon, blowing smoke up his ass at every turn. Listen, Stefon's not stupid. That man's like a second father to me. He can see a con a mile off, but Coach Anderson's an Olympic Gold Medalist. You can't buy that shit, you know, so it's hard to argue with his pedigree. Matty's smart, too, but when he gets super-focused on a goal, everything else sort of blurs."

"Harsh," I said. "Are you guys friends or frenemies?"

"We're honest with each other, Ciaran," Matty answered. "Even when it hurts."

"We love you too, babe," Joan said to Matty as she drove us into Los Angeles.

Matty grumbled as Filipe continued his theory. "Anyway. It's no secret that Matty casually partakes in illegal substances. It's Cali, my dude. We were all snorting, drinking, or toking by the time we were thirteen. Matty's birthday was coming up—this was back in February—and Coach Anderson throws him a birthday party back at his place. Nothing too crazy, just us from the team, and a few others. At least that's how Coach phrased it."

Matty tensed up beside me and I couldn't help but get nervous about the rest of Filipe's story. I reached up to squeeze the hand that was at my shoulder and he leaned his head against mine. We were so cocooned in the backseat that even Joan's tight turns didn't upset our positioning.

"Coach hired two male escorts because, well, everyone on the team is pretty clued into Matty's type. It doesn't take long for cocaine to show up. We're all having a good time."

" Everyone was doing lines," Joan said. Her driving speed slowed considerably as she navigated down residential and business streets. "Coach, too."

"One of the male escorts striped down. Someone put a line of coke on the escort's dick and then dared Matty to snort it."

Oh fuck , I thought .

"Matty isn't one to resist a dare, so he does it. But does he stop there?"

My stomach dropped. "I'm guessing not."

"Correcto. He starts sucking the escort's cock in front of all of us. Put on quite the show, too."

Filipe paused there, which was a good thing because I needed a minute to settle my thoughts. It was a lot to take in.

Matty said, "I have no memory of any of this, Ciaran. That's why I suggested they tell you."

"So Coach Anderson saw you do that and that's why he's blackmailing you?" I asked. "It would be his word against yours."

"There's more," was all Matty said and my anxiety spiked as Filipe continued.

"The sonofabitch filmed Matty snorting the cocaine and sucking the escort's dick. The next day, Coach pulled Matty into his office, showed him the video on his phone, and crafted the blackmailing deal to fake date his daughter, or else he'll tell USA Swimming."

"Jesus," I breathed out. I looked out the window and saw signs for the La Brea Tar Pits and Museum. "What a douche bag." I let the information sink in. Joan turned down another slim road that led to the back entrances to multiple buildings. "So that's why you're dating Zoey. How long is the agreement for?"

"Until the swim trials at the end of June."

That was weeks away. Despair crawled into my mind but I wasn't about to give up.

I turned to Matty. "I am so sorry that you've been dealing with this, Matty. I know it's not easy when an authority figure takes advantage of you like that. We'll figure a way out of this, okay? I promise."

Then, before I could say more or before Matty could respond, Joan came to a stop. "We're here."