Four
874 Words
By the time I reached my stop, I'd made up my mind. I was going to see what was on that USB drive. Maybe it would turn out to be nothing – some boring business documents or family photos. But maybe, just maybe, it would be the key to unlocking a whole new world.
I practically ran up the stairs to my apartment, fumbling with my keys in my eagerness to get inside. As soon as the door closed behind me, I pulled out my laptop and the USB drive, my hands shaking slightly as I plugged it in.
For a moment, nothing happened. Then a window popped up, asking for a password.
"Damn it," I muttered, staring at the blinking cursor. Of course, it wouldn't be that easy. I tried a few obvious guesses – Kyle's name, the hotel name, even "password" (hey, you never know) – but nothing worked.
I was about to give up when a memory flashed through my mind. The way Kyle had looked at me when we first met, the intensity in his eyes. On a whim, I typed in "Betsy."
The screen flashed, and suddenly I was in.
How had he used my name as the password just as soon as I had met him? I thought to myself.
Files upon files appeared, their names a jumble of numbers and letters that meant nothing to me. But as I scrolled, one folder caught my eye: "Project Icarus."
My finger hovered over the iPad. Somehow, I knew if I opened that folder, I'd be crossing a line. Invading Kyle's privacy, possibly even breaking the law.
But the memory of Kyle's phone call, the mystery woman's warning, and the thrill of holding a secret in my hands all pushed me forward. With a deep breath, I double-clicked the folder.
What I saw inside made my blood run cold.
The Icarus folder was filled with documents, spreadsheets, and photos – each more incriminating than the last. Offshore bank accounts with astronomical balances. Emails discussing bribes and blackmail. Photos of Kyle shaking hands with known criminals.
But it was the last file that really caught my attention. A video file, simply titled "B.M." My initials.
With shaking hands, I clicked play. The video was grainy, clearly taken from a security camera. It showed the hotel corridor where I had run into Kyle earlier that day. I watched our collision, saw the moment when the USB drive must have fallen from his pocket.
But the video didn't end there. It continued, showing me picking up the drive and pocketing it. My heart raced. How was this possible? The video was time stamped just hours ago.
As I stared at the screen in disbelief, a message popped up:
"Curiosity killed the cat, Betsy. But satisfaction brought it back. Meet me at the Starlight Lounge. 9 PM. Come alone. - K"
I slammed my laptop shut, my mind reeling. Kyle knew. He knew I had the drive, knew I'd look at its contents. Was this all some elaborate set-up? And if so, for what purpose?
I glanced at the clock. 7:30 PM. I had less than two hours to decide whether to meet Kyle or to run as far and fast as I could in the opposite direction.
As I paced my tiny apartment, scenarios raced through my mind. What if Kyle was dangerous, just as the blonde woman had warned? What if this was all part of some criminal scheme, and I was about to become an unwitting accomplice?
But then I remembered the way Kyle had looked at me, the electricity I'd felt when we touched. Could someone who made me feel like that really be all bad?
I caught sight of myself in the mirror and barely recognized the woman staring back at me. Her eyes were wide with a mix of fear and excitement, her cheeks flushed. For the first time in years, I felt truly alive.
Decision made, I rushed to my closet. If I was going to dive into this adventure, I was going to look the part. I pulled out the one cocktail dress I owned – a sleek black number I'd bought on sale and never had the occasion to wear. Paired with my only pair of heels and some careful makeup, I looked like a different person entirely.
As I applied a final swipe of red lipstick, I gave myself a hard look in the mirror. "You can do this, Betsy," I told my reflection. "Whatever happens, at least it'll be one hell of a story."
The Starlight Lounge was exactly as glamorous as its name suggested. Perched on the top floor of one of LA's swankiest hotels, it offered panoramic views of the city skyline. As I stepped out of the elevator, I felt like I'd walked onto a movie set.
The maître d' raised an eyebrow as I approached. "Can I help you, miss?"
I summoned every ounce of confidence I could muster. "I'm here to meet Kyle Thornton."
Recognition flashed in the man's eyes. Without another word, he led me through the dimly lit lounge to a secluded booth in the corner. And there, looking as devastatingly handsome as ever, sat Kyle.
- Writer
