Chapter 1 #4
“Oh, that's hot.”
“Not her real name.”
“Still hot.”
Haverhill frowns.
“How do you know her?”
“Online.”
Drew's hand returns to his chest.
“No.”
I stare at him.
“What?”
“Blackwell has an internet girlfriend. No freaking way. What a Tinder hook up? This is classic,” he snorts.
The boat erupts.
I wait.
There is no point fighting five drunk idiots.
Jalen is laughing hard enough that there are tears in his eyes.
Leo covers his face.
Vale shifts closer because apparently this now requires his full attention.
Haverhill points at me.
“You?”
“Yes.”
“Online?”
“Yes.”
“You're serious?”
“Unfortunately.”
Drew tries to stand.
Vale points at him.
“Sit down.”
Drew sits.
“Tell us everything.”
“No.”
“Yes.”
“No.”
Haverhill reaches for the bottle.
“We have all night.”
Traitors.
I look toward the coast.
“I met her inside an encrypted network.”
Drew nods solemnly.
“As one does.”
“Shut up.”
He mimes zipping his mouth.
“It isn't public. Invitation only. Everyone uses handles. No identities.”
Jalen's grin fades into interest.
“What kind of people?”
“Hackers. Cryptographers. Security contractors. People selling things they shouldn't. People buying things they shouldn't.”
Kane looks at me.
“You hang out there recreationally?”
“I don't golf.”
Vale laughs.
“Fair.”
“She entered a thread I was in and insulted something I'd written.”
Drew whispers, “Romance.”
I ignore him.
“She was wrong.”
Leo smiles.
“I assume you told her.”
“Immediately.”
“And?”
“She proved she wasn't wrong.”
The laughter fades.
They know me well enough to understand why that matters.
Haverhill leans back.
“No.”
“Yes.”
“She beat you?”
“Once.”
Drew puts both hands over his heart.
“Oh, that burns.”
“I can still throw you into the water.”
“Naked?”
Vale groans.
“Please stop encouraging him.”
“We started talking,” I continue. “Eventually built a private encrypted room—NULL.”
“Messaging?” Jalen asks.
“Essentially. Except neither of us can trace the other through it.”
Drew stares at me.
“You built a chat room you can't hack?”
“We built it together.”
That shuts him up for almost three seconds.
“How often do you talk?” Leo asks.
“Depends.”
“Meaning?”
“Sometimes every night.”
The mood changes again.
That's the problem with people who know you.
Eventually they hear the part you didn't say.
Vale looks down at his Scotch.
“How long?”
“Several years. Off and on.”
Drew's expression shifts.
“Years!!?”
“Yes.”
“You've been talking to a mystery woman for years and never told us?”
“You didn't ask.”
“That is not how friendship works.”
“It's exactly how ours works.”
Kane laughs.
“What do you actually know?”
“Enough.”
“Real name?”
“No.”
“Where she lives?”
“No.”
“Face?”
“No.”
Drew stares.“Xavier.”
“I know.”
“How old?”
“Approximately our age-ish?”
“The fuck?” Vales scratches his invisible beard. It sounds bad even to my own ears.
“I've verified enough incidental information.”
Vale's eyebrow lifts. “You investigated her.”
“I've attempted to.”
Leo sits forward. “Wait.”He starts laughing. Not because it's funny. Because he can't believe it. “You can't find her?”
“No.”
That gets every one of them.
Haverhill sighs, “Bullshit.”
Drew points. “Exactly.”
Vale looks at me like I've presented him with mathematically impossible accounting.
Leo says it slowly. “You are the king of the digital underworld, and you cannot find one woman?”
“She understands how I search.”
“You can find anyone.”
“Usually.”
Drew's head snaps up.
“Usually?”
He looks around the boat.
“Did everybody hear that? Blackwell just said usually.”
“No phones,” I remind him.
“Cruel.”
Vale is smiling now.
Not mocking.
Intrigued.
“She good?”
“Very.”
“Better than you?”
“No.”
I pause.
“Close.”
Silence.
Jalen whistles.
Drew looks like he's witnessed a supernatural event.
Kane says, “You've never met?”
“We tried once.”
Every man leans closer.
Even Vale.
“London,” I say. “Bridge. We agreed on a place and time.”
“And?” Leo asks.
“I went.”
Drew whispers, “She didn't.”
“No.”
His hand lands over his heart again.
“Oh, that burns.”
“Stop doing that.”
“I feel your pain… like a dagger in the heart like what Isa did to me every time she looked at Vale while he looked at Stella.” He throws a pillow at Vale’s head.
“You're drunk.”
“I contain multitudes.”
Vale rolls his eyes. “She married you dumbass. Get over it.”
“I am. I just have triggers okay?”
“She stood you up?” Vale redirects.
“Yes.”
Kane grins.
“I like her.”
“That's because it wasn't you.”
“Bookworm made me work.”
“You deserved it.”
“Probably.”
Jalen gestures. “What happened?”
“She disappeared from our channel for several days. Eventually came back.”
“And you just kept talking?” Leo asks.
“Yes.”
“Why?”
Good question.
Because she's brilliant.
Because she makes me laugh.
Because she can take half an argument and hand it back sharpened.
Because somewhere along the way seeing VESPER ONLINE became the most interesting part of certain nights.
Because she has never asked what I'm worth.
Because silence feels different when she's the one absent from it.
I say none of that.
“She's interesting.”
Five men groan.
Drew throws up his hands.
“Interesting?”
“What?”
“You've been cyber-dating some mystery woman for years. She humiliates you intellectually, stands you up on London Bridge, defeats your surveillance skills, and she's interesting?”
“I never said we're dating.”
Vale takes a drink.
“I bet on Blackwell.”
Kane looks over.
“What?”
Vale points his glass toward me.
“I say he finds her.”
Drew sits upright.
“We're betting?”
“We're absolutely betting,” Jalen says.
Leo smiles.
“This feels morally questionable.”
“That has never stopped us,” Drew says.
Vale considers it.
“Hundred to one.”
“Those are terrible odds.”
“Not against you.”
Haverhill reaches for another beer.
“How long?”
“Six months.”
Drew scoffs.
“Too easy. Three.”
Jalen says, “Ninety days.”
Leo looks at me.
“You've already had years.”
“Thank you.”
“So something about her is different…?”
I don't answer.
Vale smiles.
“Six months. He finds her real identity.”
Drew lifts one finger.
“Counterbet.”
“Go.”
“Vesper is a fifty-eight-year-old Russian man named Sergei.”
Jalen loses it.
Drew continues….“Two gold teeth. Lives in a basement.”
“Why only two gold teeth?” Kane asks.
“The others are missing.”
Leo laughs.
Vale adds, “Chain-smokes.”
“Definitely,” Drew says. “White tank top.”
Jalen says, “Has a tattoo of Putin riding a bear.”
I close my eyes.
Apparently this is friendship.
Kane is laughing hard enough to spill beer.
Drew points at me.
“And Blackwell has spent years falling in love with Sergei.”
“I never said love.”
The laughter dies.
Instantly.
I realize the mistake.
Vale leans forward.
“No.”
Drew's mouth drops open.
Jalen whispers, “Oh, shit.”
Leo watches me carefully.
Kane suddenly looks almost sympathetic.
I sigh.
“Don't.”
Drew says, “Show us.”
“No.”
“Blackwell.”
“No.”
“Do you have a picture?”
I hesitate.
That answers them.
The boat erupts again.
“You have pictures?”
“Two.”
“Phone.”
“No.”
“Phone.”
“You've been drinking.”
“So have you.”
Vale holds out one hand.
“Xavier.”
Traitor.
I look around the circle.
Men I've known through different versions of myself.
Royal Oaks.
California.
Europe.
Breakups.
Scandals.
Weddings.
Careers.
Some friendships go farther back than others, but somehow we ended up here, half drunk beneath Mediterranean stars, asking things none of us would have touched at eighteen.
Maybe that's what getting older is.
Not becoming wiser.
Just becoming drunk enough to admit what matters.
I unlock my secure device.
“No copies.”
Drew looks offended.
“With what phone?”
Fair.
I open the encrypted vault.
The first photograph appears.
A woman from behind.
Caramel-brown hair blowing softly across her shoulders while she stands beside London Bridge, looking toward the horizon.
No face.
No timestamp.
No metadata.
Nothing useful.
I hand the device to Vale.
He studies it.
Passes it to Leo.
Drew leans over Leo's shoulder.
“That's not Sergei.”
“Could be a wig,” Jalen says.
Drew thinks about that.
“Good point.”
Kane takes the device.
“She sent you this after London?”
“Yes.”
He studies the image.
“She was there.”
“I don't know that.”
“She was there.”
“I've considered it.”
Vale looks toward me.
“Cameras?”
“Disabled.”
All five react.
Leo laughs softly.
“Oh, you are screwed.”
“Thank you.”
“She knew you'd look,” Vale says.
“Yes.”
“So she killed every useful feed before sending you the photograph.”
“Yes.”
Drew whistles.
“I really like her.”
“You don't know her.”
“Neither do you.”
Fair.
I swipe to the second image.
White paper.
Nothing written on it.
One dried teardrop soaked into the center.
The jokes stop.
Drew lowers the cigar.
Haverhill studies it.
“What does that mean?”
“I don't know.”
“She never explained?”
“No.”
“You didn't ask?”
“No.”
Leo looks at me.
“Why not?”
I stare at the photograph.
Because whatever made her send it wasn't something I wanted to turn into a puzzle.
Because for once, I didn't want information badly enough to force somebody to surrender it.
Because maybe caring about someone includes letting them keep certain things.
“I figured if she wanted me to know, she'd tell me.”
Vale gives me an annoyingly knowing look.
I lock the photograph away.
Drew leans back.
“Okay.”
“What?”
“I withdraw Sergei.”
“Generous.”
“She's definitely hot.”
“You've seen the back of her head.”
“Hot hair.”
Jalen raises his glass.
“To Vesper.”
“No.”
Everyone raises theirs anyway.
Vale says, “To Blackwell finally meeting a woman he can't investigate into submission.”
Leo adds, “To the hundred-to-one bet.”
Kane grins.
“To London Bridge.”
Drew lifts his cigar.
“To Sergei.”
We all look at him.
“What? I miss him already.”
I laugh.
Can't help it.
The glasses meet over the table.
For a few seconds, we're younger again.
Too arrogant.
Too loud.
Certain nothing would ever change.
Except Leo wears a wedding ring.
Drew wears one.
Vale has Stella.
Kane is weeks away from marrying Hannah.
Jalen spent half the night kissing models in the Mediterranean because he's the only one fully exploiting his remaining single status.