Dirty Letters(13)

Later, gator,

Griff

P.S. You don’t have to answer that, but if you do, I might take it as a hint that you want to talk a bit more about sex. Now that we’re adults, I think it might be kind of fun to explore our options—and our fantasies.

P.P.S. In your letter, you stated that you hadn’t had “the mind-blowing sex that PROBABLY exists.” It most definitely exists, Luca.

P.P.P.S. Spring for the alarm system with the video camera.



I read that letter at least five times. God, he made me laugh and smile. And holy crap, he hadn’t even touched me, yet I found myself totally turned on by his words. It didn’t matter that I knew nothing about his looks. Our chemistry had never been based on physical things, but always the intense mental and emotional connection we had. I trusted him more than almost anyone, and that meant I most definitely wanted to explore wherever our words would take us. So much had happened to me since we were teenagers. The one good thing to come out of it was that I no longer believed in holding things inside. If you have something to say, say it, and if there’s something you want, do it. I’d yet to get over my agoraphobia, but from within the confines of my house, I felt like I could rule the world. At least, Griffin made me feel that way.





CHAPTER 6

GRIFFIN


It had been a long and arduous day in the recording studio. My bandmates had all left when the production coordinator snuck up behind me as I was getting ready to leave.

“Hey, Griffin.”

“Hey, Melinda.”

The last time I saw Melinda a few months ago, I was backing her up against the wall as we fucked in the sound booth. She was as attractive as anyone else I’d messed around with, in a bottled-blonde, silicone kind of way. But I most definitely wasn’t looking for a repeat. Lately, I’d had a hard time focusing on anything other than Luca’s letters, which was completely fucked up.

“A bunch of us are going to The Roxy tonight to celebrate wrapping up,” Melinda said. “You coming with?”

“Ah . . . not sure what my plans are yet.”

“I was really hoping you’d be there.”

“Yeah, I’ll let you know.”

“If not . . . maybe I could just come over to your place and we can hang out.”

My place? Um, no.

“I’ll have to see.”

Not really.

“Okay . . . well, maybe I’ll hear from you later.”

“Yeah. See ya,” I said as I moved past her and exited the building.

After I entered my car, I hesitated to start it. Thoughts of Luca were flooding my mind along with some pretty strong feelings of guilt. We’d always prided ourselves on being completely honest with one another, and yet I was hiding the biggest part of myself from her. I hadn’t even asked her about the books she wrote, even though I was really curious. That’s because I didn’t think it was fair that she should have to talk about her career when I was being vague about mine. But honestly, what choice did I have? If I wanted to experience things exactly as they once were with her, then I couldn’t exactly tell her that her trusty friend Griffin was now Cole Archer, lead singer of the band Archer, well-known to legions of fans around the world. Luca would freak the fuck out. My life was the antithesis of hers. She couldn’t even go shopping during the day, for heaven’s sake, let alone deal with the onslaught of people who would inevitably follow her around if word ever got out about us. I felt like I was backed into a corner here. If I didn’t tell her, she was going to find out someday and be angry that I hid this. If I did tell her, there would be no chance in hell she would ever want to meet me. At the same time, I honestly felt like I couldn’t go on without knowing who she really was. This woman was one of the most important people in my life. As these weeks went on, I needed to know more and more about what the faceless woman I dreamed about looked like. With the tour looming in a couple of months, I felt like I needed a little peace of mind before I’d be working nonstop.

After scrolling on my phone to find the name of a private investigator who’d once helped me before, I dialed the number.

“Julian . . . Cole Archer here.”

“Cole . . . it’s been a while.”

“Yeah, yeah it has.”

“What can I do for you?”

“Well, I have a bit of a different need this time. Are you able to travel right now?”

“How far are we talking?”

“Vermont.”

“What’s going on up there?”

“I have a friend I want you to locate. I don’t want you to talk to her or approach her. I just want you to take some photos and follow her around for a couple of days, give me a feel for her routine, and also let me know if you feel she’s safe up there.”

“I assume you have her name and address?”

“That’s the complicated part. This girl . . . she’s an old friend, but we don’t actually know each other’s real names.”

“Some freaky shit going on?”

“Nah. Nothing like that. We met as pen pals when we were kids. Started using fake last names from the get-go, because those were the rules back then. We recently reconnected and simply never changed that habit. She doesn’t even know I’m Cole Archer.”