3. Court
1254 Words
3
Court
Camden laughed so hard that I thought he was going to fall over. “She actually put you on lockdown? That woman has got some balls.”
“Shut the f**k up.”
He just laughed harder. “Come on. It’s hilarious. You’re a grown-ass man, and your publicist thinks you’re so f****d up that she won’t let you leave the house.”
“I didn’t even f*****g do anything.”
I snatched up a bottle of his best whiskey and poured myself a double. English had told me not to leave, but I wasn’t taking her s**t. It wasn’t like Camden’s penthouse in Percy Tower was a den of debauchery. Or at least, not one that was going to make it into any papers.
“You did get arrested,” Camden said with a shrug, taking a hit off a joint.
“f**k that, man. I didn’t know what the f**k Jane was doing.”
“Maybe you should have paid attention.”
“To what?” I asked. “Jane seemed like every other girl on the Upper East Side, except that she was unique and interesting. She had money. She had ambitions. She didn’t care how obnoxious I was or about any of my bad habits. She didn’t even ask me to fund her stupid club. I f*****g offered.”
“Maybe you should care less,” Camden suggested with a straight face.
“Like you?” I asked. “If we’re bringing up Jane and the arrest, should we discuss your wife?”
His eyes narrowed. “No.”
Camden and Katherine had entered an arranged marriage about a year ago. Half the time, I thought he hated her, and half the time, I thought he was insanely in love with her. With Camden, it was hard to tell where his head was. His life was business, business, business. Running one of the most successful and lucrative hotel chains in the country sure helped that.
“I didn’t think so.” I plopped into a seat adjacent to him and sipped on my whiskey. “She just drives me up the wall.”
“Then fire her,” Camden said with a shrug.
“In case you’ve forgotten, I didn’t hire her.”
“So? You’re the one allowing yourself to be subjected to this.”
I sighed. “She’s just doing her job.”
“It sounds like she stepped over a line.”
God, how I wished she had.
How had I f*****g misinterpreted her reaction so completely? I’d almost kissed her. Almost reached across that divide between publicist and client. I hadn’t even wanted to. It had just been instinct. Which was f*****g insane because I hadn’t touched another girl since the night Jane was arrested. The first person shouldn’t be f*****g Anna English. That made no sense.
“This whole thing is just…stupid.” I held my hand out for the joint.
He passed it to me, and I took a hit.
“What’s stupid is not letting her do her job if it’s working. Is it working?”
I shrugged and made another pull. “I guess.”
“Then stop f*****g complaining. And don’t f*****g take the whole thing. That’s the good shit.”
I laughed and passed it back to him, feeling a little more relaxed. “I’m only complaining because this lockdown is bullshit.”
Camden stretched his legs and stepped up to the pool table. He racked the balls and set the cue down. He picked up his lucky stick, rolled chalk across the top, and then aimed.
“Solids or stripes?” he asked.
I swallowed the last of my drink and stepped over. “Stripes.”
“Strippers it is,” he said with a chuckle as he hit the cue ball with perfect accuracy.
The balls cracked together and then exploded around the green felt table. Three went in, and Camden smiled his typical competitive smile. The one that said I’d better f*****g win, or I’ll end you. I knew it well.
“You know what you need, Court?” Camden asked, stepping up to the cue again.
“I think you’re going to tell me.”
“You need to get laid.”
“I am shocked to hear you say that,” I drawled, laying the sarcasm on thick.
He pocketed the ball and then smirked at me. “I know you. You haven’t f****d anyone since Jane.”
“So?”
“And you were actually faithful to her.”
“Some people see that as a good thing,” I reminded him.
“How many people would even believe that you were faithful to her?” Camden asked as he pocketed another ball.
I was beginning to wonder if I’d even get a chance to play the game.
“Likely no one.”
I’d carefully cultivated that appearance. I didn’t want anyone to think I cared about anything too much. I’d learned that caring usually ended up backfiring in my face. And look, it had happened with Jane, too.
“So, you haven’t had any other p***y in what…two years?”
Camden missed the next ball, and I sighed. Thank f**k.
“Two-ish years. Sure,” I said.
Even though I could give him the exact date Jane and I’d first f****d and everything else went out the window. I might be known as a Manhattan playboy, a giant train wreck, and the Kensington fuckup. In fact, I was all of those things. Or at least, I had been for most of my life.
But I’d thought Jane was endgame. You treated endgame differently than the other girls.
Turned out, I had been wrong. And her endgame was just prison.
“It’s time.”
I dropped the first ball into the pocket with ease. “Maybe.”
“You’re letting your publicist get to you. Weed and good whiskey aren’t even calming your bitching,” Camden said with a raised eyebrow. “You’re Court Kensington. How hard is it to find a willing supplicant?”
Too easy.
Always had been.
The Kensington charm that won my mother elections and had made my dipshit father so good at business got me whatever woman I wanted. All it took was a deep look into their eyes and a pointed smile.
It was how everything had ever been in my life. My name opened doors. I got everything I ever wanted, including the economics degree from Harvard. Who cared if I only went there for lacrosse when the Kensington name was on the building and I charmed my way through the classes?
I was that asshole. The rich, entitled f**k. And I’d never cared a day in my life.
Until the day I’d been arrested.
The day I found out that Jane had just been using me. That her smiles and charm had used and hurt me the way I’d used and hurt so many others.
“Ah, I know that look. You don’t want just anyone,” Camden said.
I whiffed the next ball. “Fuck.”
Camden chuckled as I slammed the stick back into place and waited for him to clean the table. I dragged my phone out of my pocket to check my messages. Maybe Camden had a point. Maybe it was time to move on. I knew a few people who might take the edge off. None that I wanted long-term, but…still…
A text waited for me from my buddy, Gavin King, our friend from college who ran the New York division of an oil empire, Dorset & King.
Holy f**k! Bro, did you see the pictures posted on TMZ? Isn’t that English’s guy?
I furrowed my brow and clicked on the link he’d provided. “Oh f**k!”
Camden glanced up from the pool table. “What?”
I slid the phone across the table to him. “Look at what Gavin just sent me.”
He picked up the phone and scrolled through the photos. “She’s hot. Why are we looking at p**n?”
“That’s not p**n. That’s Josh Hutch and Celeste Gammon on the set of the latest Bourne movie.”
“So?”
“That’s English’s husband.”
“Oh,” Camden said. His gaze swept the photos another time. “Not for long, I’d guess.”
“Yeah. Fuck.” I clenched my hands into fists. “f**k! I was such a d**k to her. And she was dealing with this shit.”
Camden handed me back the phone. “So? Why do you care?”
“I don’t.”
Camden smirked. “Okay.”
Fuck, why did I care?
- Writer
