6. Maxwell
CHAPTER 6
Maxwell
I can’t believe I kissed my friend. Kamaya and I just kissed.
I am the first to wake up, and I have some time before we have to get to work. As much as I want to blame my actions on the wine I drank last night, it was my decision when I leaned in to kiss Kamaya. I don’t know what came over me. Lately, the idea of kissing my friend didn’t seem weird. It was something I wanted to do more and more. Last night I gave into a suppressed desire.
The previous night was straight-up torture, lying on the couch and listening to Kamaya shower. The cracked door to the bathroom pushed steam into the apartment and caused my thoughts to veer into imagining her glistening body, water sluicing down her great tits. Going to sleep with a boner at my big age of thirty-four was ridiculous.
Thoughts of how perfectly Kam and I would fit together have only increased since Brandon and Ava’s wedding.
Kissing Kamaya played on a loop in my mind until my baser instincts took over.
From my vantage point on this little couch of hers, I can see into the area where she’s sleeping since the studio layout is open concept. She looks peaceful in her sleep, and I wish I could join her, but that would be totally creepy and probably not well received after last night.
Part of me wishes Kamaya would wake up so we could discuss what happened, but maybe putting all that off for now is best.
I pick up my phone and spend a half hour looking on social media to see if any of the platforms are mentioning FJ or City University, and so far none of the recent articles or posts mention anything about the paywall breach. The only articles that do come up are ones mentioning the increasing protests at the campus about rising tuition rates.
“Max? What time is it?” Kamaya asks, half of her head buried under a pillow.
“Time for you get a watch,” I call back to her.
She laughs and shakes her head at my bad joke. “Oh, how I haven’t missed your corny dad jokes.”
I was trying for levity after last night and thankfully it worked. I didn’t know what else to say about the kiss. I wasn’t sorry that it happened, but I did hope it wouldn’t make things too weird between us. Except for the first few months when Kamaya started working for the team and was stubbornly refusing to listen to my advice, we’ve always gotten along great and are able to talk about anything. We’ve particularly found a common thread when talking about our fucked-up love lives.
I hope the kiss didn’t put an end to that.
“Max?”
“Yes,” I answer, hesitating, not ready for the brush off. We can’t work together. We can’t be friends after last night.
“About last night. It doesn’t have to change anything between us. Unless you want to talk about it.”
Explaining my conflicted feelings before 9:00 am? Yeah, I’m good on that. If Kam wants to move on, then so can I. At least, I think I can.
No, I have to move on for the sake of our careers and friendship. “Nah, I’m good if you are,” I say.
“I don’t want to talk about it either, and we’re definitely good,” she says, sitting up in bed and facing towards me on the sofa.
Her just-woken-up stretch is cute, and I’ve only seen it a handful of times, but I wish I was here to see it every morning. I’m not that type of man normally, and I’d hate to go there with Kamaya and mess it up.
Even if she does look adorable.
Kam nods, heading towards the bathroom but leaving the door ajar. She begins to wet a toothbrush before turning back to me. “I know Dani has classes today. Maybe she can shed some light and get us in anywhere we may need to visit.”
“Sounds good,” I say, rising to get my Nike bag. “And we’ll take my car,” I add.
Kamaya raises her brow at me mid-brushing. “Oh, really?”
I didn’t know for sure if we were still being followed, especially all the way out in Jersey City, but I didn’t want to take any chance of either of us being separated.
“How did you become the boss of this again? I’m pretty sure Brandon said I was taking the lead this time,” Kamaya states, exiting the bathroom and coming to a stop before me.
Up close, her skin look luminous, and my gaze briefly travels to her mouth again.
“As long as your safety could be in jeopardy, I’m in charge. Also, I’m staying here until further notice. I don’t feel comfortable with you being here on your own,” I say and turn towards the kitchen at her open-mouth response. “Now, let’s be ready to leave in a half hour.”
This time we take my car and ride together to the college campus. I haven’t set foot on a campus in over a decade, and being on the City University campus makes me nostalgic for when I was younger. Long before I was nearing my mid-thirties and had conflicting feelings for my friend. Somehow, relationships had become even messier as I got older.
“Daniella said we can meet her and Sam at the student union,” Kamaya says.
We walk over to the central building, and it’s a flurry of activity. Students are crowded around laptops, iPads, and textbooks. Some students are eating and chatting. It was a nice, manicured campus with summer in full bloom. City University was looked down upon due to it being a local school, but I didn’t see anything wrong with it. Though it must not get the same funding as the other more popular schools in the city, were its students at the point of stealing news resources?
“Kam, over here!”
Daniella is huddled in the back corner with a young Asian man wearing a CU sweatshirt. They both have laptops and notebooks scattered about them at the small wooden table. I’m taken aback by the striking similarities between the sisters every time I see Daniella. Looking at her is like getting a glimpse of a teenage Kamaya.
Daniella rises from the table to hug her sister. “Sup, Max?” She turns to me and daps me up before rejoining her friend. “This is my friend, Sam Tieu. Sam, this is my sister and Max. I told them about the offer we got about that website.”
“Hey,” Sam says in greeting, turning towards Kamaya. Kam and I take seats opposite the students. “Yeah, it was totally random. One day this guy came into the Union and asked if we needed access to FJ for classes and said he could hook us up so we wouldn’t have to pay for it.”
“So, did you take him up on it?” I ask, directing my question to both of them.
“I didn’t,” Daniella quickly answers.
“And you, Sam?” Kamaya asks.
“Well, I—” He’s hesitating, looking to Daniella for a lifeline.
“It’s okay, Kam and Max aren’t cops,” she says, laying a hand on his forearm.
“Okay, fine. I took him up on it. He texted me some email address and a bogus password. I used it to get past the paywall and had access for the research I needed for a paper,” Sam states. “It was only one time though,” he’s quick to add.
“Did this person offer anything else?” I ask the both of them again. I wondered if this person was in the business of giving out cheat log ins for different types of subscription services or if it was just the Financial Journal .
“No, that was it,” Daniella says, turning towards Sam.
“Yeah, they didn’t offer me anything else,” Sam says.
“Could you screenshot the information this person gave you?” Kamaya asks.
“Sure,” Sam says, pulling his phone out of his pocket and handing it to Kam to provide her number.
“Do you know the person who offered?” I ask. “A friend of a friend or classmate?”
“No, I didn’t know him, but he recognized Sam,” Daniella answers.
Sam fiddles with the pen in his hand, clicking and unclicking before answering. “Um, we had one class together last semester. He was hardly there though, and I only knew his first name because people were talking about how weird he his.”
“What’s his name?” Kam asks, opening the notes app on her phone.
“Harry something. I don’t know because I never knew his last name. Some people were saying he’s like from some rich family. If that were true, what would he be doing here?”
Kamaya’s and my gaze meet.
“Is there anything else you can think of?” I ask.
Daniella and Sam are quiet for a beat, but then shake their heads. “No, nothing else,” Daniella answers for both of them.
I turn to Kam. “Maybe we should head over to the school’s IT services next.”
“Okay,” she says to me. “Text me so I can save your number, Sam, and thank you both.”
“No problem,” Sam says, picking his phone up again.
“Sorry we couldn’t be more helpful, Sissy,” Daniella says.
“It’s fine, Dani. Really, you and Sam have been a help. We at least have a name to go off of.”
“If you can think of anything else or learn anything you think can be helpful, don’t hesitate to let Kamaya know,” I add.
Before Kam and I have a moment to step away, a small crowd of students gather at the windows of the student union.
“What’s going on out there?” I ask. It’s hard to see past the growing crowd around the windows.
“More protests, I’m sure,” Daniella answers. “This is the second time this week I’ve seen that guy out there.” She indicates with her chin toward a young male yelling into a bullhorn.
Sam stands up from his seat to get a better look. “Wait, that’s Harry out there.”
Kamaya turns back around to face Sam. “The same Harry you just mentioned?”
“Yeah, that’s totally him. He looks a little different now with the shaved head, but he’s the one who offered me all the log in stuff.”
“Let’s go see if we can catch him,” Kamaya says to me.
I groan, not sure if it’s a good idea to get in the middle of a protest. Peacefully protesting crowds could quickly become dangerous, and you never knew who brought weapons to these things, or if police would try to break them up.
“Fine, but we can’t stay long,” I say, resigned because I know Kamaya is going to do whatever she wants anyway. “We need to be quick.”
“Yes, quick,” she says and starts moving towards where the crowds are. I follow. “Bye, Dani, Sam!” she calls over her shoulder as we reach the doors.
Back outside, I squint at the bright summer sun now high in the sky. There’s an even larger crowd of protesters than expected marching down towards the Student Union. For the summer semester, I wasn’t expecting to see as many people on campus. This Harry brought out quite a crowd.
The young man with the shaved head that Sam pointed out is outside the marching line and yelling into the bullhorn. “End elitism in higher ed!”
The crowd next to him chants back, “End elitism in higher ed!”
“Okay, he’s taking a break,” Kamaya says, indicating with her head over to Harry, who’s now taking a sip of water and wiping the sweat off his forehead. “Just follow my lead.”
I let Kamaya approach the young man first, trusting her instincts but staying close in case of trouble.
“Hi, I’m Kamaya Blake and this is my partner, Maxwell. We’re with Tri-State Security. Can we ask you a few questions about Financial Journal ?”
The younger man’s eyes widen, and he begins to take a step back. “I’m not talking to any cops,” he says.
“We’re not cops, and you’re definitely not under arrest. We just have some questions that we’re hoping you could answer.”
Harry looks between the two of us, still uncertain if we’re trustworthy. “If you want to talk, then hold up a sign and face towards those news vans,” he states and hands us both a poster with elitism crossed out.
Kamaya takes two of the signs in the school colors—blue and red—and hands me one.
“Are you sure this is a good idea?” I lean down to whisper into her ear.
“We’ve come this far. Might as well get some information out of him,” she says back.
I sigh, hoping this isn’t a terrible idea and we weren’t swindled into joining Harry’s protest. We face the cameras along with Harry and the crowd before Kamaya begins questioning him.
“We were told that you have been helping students by giving out access to the FJ site,” Kamaya says and only gets a blank stare from Harry.
“Did my mother put you up to this?”
“Who is your mother?” Kamaya asks, meeting my equally confused glance.
“Well, she’s never been a mother to me. My egg donor and cause of my therapy is Cecily van Zandt. She’s why you’re asking me these questions, right?”
Cecily is his mother. In all the searches, we never found any hits about Cecily having a son named Harry, not to mention her apparent sour attitude towards the very school that stole from her publication.
“No—no, we had no idea she even had a son. She’s never mentioned you,” Kamaya says.
“Figures,” Harry says. “Shipped me off to boarding school at the age of five, and when I returned after high school finished and decided to come here and not go to Columbia, she cut me off and disowned me. Too bad for her, the money my father put away for me couldn’t be touched. Got my inheritance last year when I turned eighteen and changed my name to Harry Cooper.”
“So you’re working against your own family business?” I ask.
Harry only snorts his derision. “No, those people are not my family. Never have been. Also, I don’t believe in gatekeeping and elitism when it comes to journalism. Why should the rich kids get access to everything while everyone else has to pay or go without?”
The irony of that coming from someone who was the former heir of a rich family.
“How were you able to give out so many student access log ins?” Kamaya ask. “Where did the credentials come from?”
Harry shrugs. “I don’t know. I got a message from a blocked sender who said they knew who I was and what I was doing with the End Elitism protests,” he says, pointing to his website on the corner of the posters we’re holding. “They said they wanted to help out, and I took the bait and started offering up log ins to kids who I figured would need it.”
“Do you still have the message?” Kamaya asks Harry.
“Yeah, I’m sure I do, but I don’t have time to look for that now,” he says. “I gotta go.”
“Wait,” Kamaya calls to the young man, who taps his foot impatiently while she digs through her blazer pocket.
NYPD vans and more news cameras have started to gather and are now approaching, causing the crowd of protesters to disperse.
“Kamaya, we need to get out of here!” The last thing we need is to get detained or arrested. “We’re technically trespassing on this campus.”
“Just a second,” she says, finally digging out her business card and placing it in Harry’s hand. “When you find that email, please forward it to me. If you get anything else, my email and number are on the card.”
Harry glances at it and nods. “We’ll see.”
“Come on, Kamaya,” I say, taking her sign and dropping it where the protesters have the others. Then we make a run for it back to the car before the police close in.