Dirty Little Secrets

11.

SUMMER'S POV

"Well, Dark Bird," Mr. Noel’s voice cut through the quiet, sounding entirely hollow, stripped of the booming authority he usually threw around the club. He still wasn't looking at me, his eyes fixed on some arbitrary spot on his desk. "You heard him. You can resume work by the next night. Bring your A-game. Don't make me regret this."

I didn't answer him. My throat felt like it was lined with sand.

Instead, I turned my gaze to Kingsley, who was still standing, his knuckles white where his hands were balled into fists, his chest heaving under his damp jacket. The confusion and raw anger rolling off him were palpable, suffocating the tiny room. I couldn't handle it. I couldn't handle the judgment, the pity, or the sheer terror of what I had just done to my own future.

Before he could open his mouth to demand the answers written all over his face, I grabbed his arm, and dragged Kingsley out of the office. He stumbled backward for a second, surprised by the sudden violence of my grip, but he didn't fight me as I hauled him down the dim corridor, past the empty main floor, and out into the cool, dripping night air of the alleyway.

The moment the heavy metal staff door slammed shut behind us, cutting off the club's suffocating scent of cheap cologne and old smoke, Kingsley ripped his arm out of my grasp.

"Summer, stop!" he yelled, his deep voice bouncing off the brick walls of the alleyway. He stepped into my path, forcing me to look at him under the flickering amber glow of the security light. "What the hell was that? Who was that man from earlier? And what contract did you just sign?"

The questions hit me like rapid-fire blows, tearing right through the fragile, fraying edges of my sanity. Everything from the past forty-eight hours—the eviction notice, the public humiliation, the terrifying image of Clyde breathless in a hospital bed, and the crushing realization that I had just signed my life away to a monster—boiled up to the surface.

And instead of breaking down, I snapped.

"Why are you so damn gullible and stupid?!" I screamed, the harsh words tearing from my throat before I could even attempt to filter them. I stepped right into his space, poking a trembling finger hard against his chest. "Are you completely brain-dead, Kingsley? What part of stay out of my business do you not understand?"

He blinked, visibly recoiling from the sudden venom in my voice, but I didn't care. I hated this. I hated the suffocating weight of my reality, but more than anything, I hated the terrifying pattern that was ruining my life.

"I hate you!" I raged, tears of pure frustration blinding my vision as the rain began to pick up again, mixing with the heat on my face. "I hate that each time I am in trouble, each time I am in a position where I absolutely do not want to be seen, you just magically appear out of nowhere! Who asked you to follow me? Who asked you to play the hero? You think because you have a fancy car and a big house that you can just wander into my nightmares and fix them?"

Kingsley’s easygoing, calm demeanor completely vanished, replaced by a dark, simmering fury I hadn't seen in him before. His jaw clenched so tightly a muscle leaped in his cheek, and his jaw set in a rigid line. When he spoke, it wasn't the soft, reassuring tone he used at the hospital; it was the lowest, angriest voice he had.

"I was only trying to help out," he whispered, the sheer venom in his quiet tone cutting deeper than any scream. He took a step forward, towering over me, his eyes flashing with a dangerous blend of hurt and irritation. "But I guess someone is very independent. Too independent to realize when they're drowning."

"I don't need your help!" I fired back, my voice cracking under the strain.

"Clearly you do!" Kingsley snapped, finally losing his grip on his restraint. "Summer, I already promised you that your secrets were safe with me! I swore to you at school that I wouldn't expose you, that I didn't care about what happened at the club! I thought we had an understanding. But I cannot understand you. You were laid out in the afternoon: crying, stressed to the point of breaking, losing your mind over your brother, but by the evening, you just walk right back into this hellhole and accept the job back again?"

He ran a hand through his wet hair, letting out a sharp, cynical laugh that sounded entirely hollow.

"It’s a stupid thing to do, Summer! It is completely idiotic!" he yelled, stepping closer, his chest nearly brushing mine. "You should have stood your ground no matter what! If it was about the money, if it was about the rent, you knew George and I were trying to help you! You didn't have to grovel back to these people and sign some shady piece of paper just to put yourself back on display!"

"You don't know anything!" My voice was a ragged sob now, my hands curled into tight fists against my sides. He didn't know about the stalking photos of Clyde. He didn't know that the man who just left the office was the same psychopath who had threatened to ruin my brother's life in the basement. He thought this was about pride, about a stripping job, because he lived in a world where choices were easy.

"Then tell me!" Kingsley demanded, his voice cracking slightly, the anger giving way to a desperate, raw plea. "Talk to me, Summer! Were we really friends at any point? Did any of those moments at school, or at my house, or at the hospital mean anything to you? Or am I just some game to you?"

I looked at his face—sculpted, beautiful, and utterly shattered by my hostility. A part of me, the soft, buried part that loved his cinnamon-and-lavender scent, wanted to collapse against his damp chest and tell him everything.

But the memory of the unknown number flashed behind my eyes—Beautiful kid. Watch your back.

If I let Kingsley in, Mr. Robert would destroy him too. I had to push him away. I had to make him hate me so he would stay alive.

"No," I whispered, forcing my facial expression to turn entirely stone-cold, draining every ounce of warmth from my eyes. "We were never friends, Kingsley. I only ever saw you as a burden. A rich, clueless brat who keeps shoving his way into a life he doesn't belong in. You're an annoyance."

The words hung in the damp alleyway air like a lethal blade.

Kingsley went completely still. It was as if I had physically struck him. The fiery anger in his eyes died instantly, replaced by a crushing hurt that made me want to tear my own throat out for saying those words. He took a slow step back, his hands dropping to his sides, looking at me like he was seeing a monster.

"A burden..." he repeated, his voice barely audible over the rain.

He parted his lips, his chest rising as he braced himself to deliver whatever final, devastating reply he had left for me, but he never got the chance.

A sharp, piercing, high-pitched electronic wail suddenly interrupted us, that caught both of us off guard. Kingsley flinched, his brow furrowing as he reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out his phone. The screen was flashing a bright, neon red.

It was the emergency alarm for his house that was connected to his phone, and it was going off in full force.

Kingsley stared at the screen, his face draining of whatever color it had left. His thumb swiped frantically across the glass, his eyes widening in a sudden, terrifying panic that completely eclipsed the argument we had just been having. Whatever was happening back at his apartment, it was catastrophic.

He raised his head, looking at me one last time. The hurt was still there, buried deep in his eyes, but it was heavily masked by a sudden, frantic urgency.

"Go," he told me, his voice tight, his breathing turning shallow as he began backing away toward the street where his car was parked. "Go home without me, Summer."

"Kingsley, what is—"

"I said go!" he barked, turning on his heel and beginning to jog toward the alley exit. He stopped just before the corner, casting one fierce, parting glance over his shoulder through the pouring rain. "Do not think this conversation is over. We are finishing this later."

And with that, he disappeared, leaving me entirely alone in the dark.