Page 95 of Hard Count
Tank didn’t say anything else for a while.
“When you’re ready to hear about it,” Tank said finally, “I’ll tell you about it.”
“Okay.”
“Not tonight.”
“Okay.”
Tank looked at him then. “Piper.”
“Ya?”
“It’s all gonna be good in the end,” Tank smiled as he gave Piper a hug goodbye.
***
On the way out of Buckhead, his phone buzzed. A number he didn’t recognize,1007 Peachtree Crest Drive. Gate Code 6777. No pressure, babygirl. J.
Piper read it twice and then headed back to the St. Regis. He let the silence answer the text.
He went to his room. He lay on top of the covers in his clothes and looked at the ceiling until he fell asleep, his body had nothing left to give.
Chapter Thirty-Four: New York City
The photos arrived Tuesday morning.
Caleb Ward was at his desk on the thirteenth floor of a building on Eighth Avenue.
The file was a Dropbox link from a number he did not recognize.
There were multiple photographs. Two men in a suite at the Beverly Hills Hotel in various stages of undress and sexual positions. The pictures were taken by what looked like a private investigator, probably on a surrounding rooftop.
Caleb Ward sat back in his chair. He knew exactly who these two men were, Piper Ashton and Noah Reyes. They hadn’t thought to close the blinds, which was an amateur move if you wanted to take every precaution to not get caught.
He had been through this before and photographs were the match, the story would be the flame.
The story had been building the entire season and hit a fever pitch after the underwear campaign’s behind-the-scenes commercial dropped. The commercial was now yesterday’s news and the vultures were circling and needed more content to feed the biggest story in America.
Caleb pulled a yellow legal pad toward him. He wrote at the top in black pen:Ashton / Reyes.
Then he wrote, underneath it:Who sent these, and why to me?Caleb knew he could break a story wide open at a national level, but this was content usually reserved for a social media leak and these photos were nowhere on social media yet.
He opened his laptop and pulled up Piper Ashton’s individual file he had been building from the Jayson Days investigation.
His editor, Marta, came into his office at noon. “Caleb, you got anything on the sports betting ring we can send to legal?”
“Soon,” Caleb replied.
“I do have something else. I received images that we are not going to run, because legal won’t release this shit.” Caleb pointed to his computer screen as Marta’s eyes widened.
“Oh fuck Caleb,” she said.
“You know this is not a relationship story like everyone is waiting for,” Caleb said as he looked up at Marta.
Marta waited.
“It’s an ownership story,” Caleb continued.
