Page 55 of Dirty As Puck
The stakes shift in that instant. This isn’t about a headline anymore. This is about who’s been pulling his strings, and how far they’re willing to go.
Kai walks out of the hotel room’s shower. The room feels too quiet when he opens the door, like the air itself is holding back from breathing.
I don’t waste time. “How long has this been happening?”
His brow furrows. “What?”
I step past him, my laptop under my arm, and my heart hammering in my chest. “The leaks. The payments. Someone’s been feeding the tabloids ugly stories about for years, Kai. Every low point in your life, there’s a trail.”
For a second, he just stares at me. Then his jaw tightens, and I see it, the flicker of recognition, of something he’s buried deep.
“Who told you that?” he asks, voice low.
“No one told me anything. I found it. I followed the records of money sent to a certain account. I traced the calls.”
He exhales, a sound closer to a growl than a sigh, and sinks onto the edge of the bed, rubbing the back of his neck. “I thought I was paranoid,” he mutters. “After my mom died… I got these anonymous messages. They had photos of her, in my apartment. They said if I didn’t play nice, they’d make it worse. That if I tried to find out who they were, more would come out.”
My stomach twists. “You never told anyone?”
“Who was I going to tell?” He looks up, eyes sharp now. “The league? The cops? They don’t care unless it’s a headline. And that’s the point, isn’t it? Keep me chasing shadows while they get paid.”
I sit across from him, the glow of my laptop casting a dim light between us. “This isn’t just bad luck, Kai. It’s systematic. Someone close to you is making a living off your pain.”
His hands ball into fists. For a heartbeat, I think he’s going to throw something, but he doesn’t. He just stares past me, jaw working, fuming in silence.
“Why are you showing me this?” he finally asks.
“Because you deserve to know,” I whisper. “And because I can’t keep pretending I’m just here for a story.”
Something in his expression softens then, barely, but it’s enough. The walls aren’t down yet, but they’ve cracked open.
Kai doesn’t answer right away. He leans forward, elbows on his knees, as he stares at the floor like it might give him something solid to hold onto.
I should leave it there. I should take my laptop, my findings, and write the piece that I get paid to write. That’s what I came here to do.
Instead, I find myself saying, “You didn’t deserve that. Any of it.”
He looks up, with a slow, skeptical glance. “Deserve doesn’t matter. They got what they wanted… to control my reputation.”
Something twists in my chest. I think of the way he carries himself in front of cameras, the controlled arrogance, the smirk he wears like armor. I’ve spent weeks trying to break it, to expose it. Now I see the cost of him keeping it up.
“This isn’t about clicks anymore,” I hear myself say, my voice a little softer. “Whoever’s doing this… they’re not just after headlines. They’re bleeding you, Kai.”
His jaw ticks. “So what? You’re going to save me?”
I lean in. “No. But I can help stop this. I know how these people work. I know where to dig, how to trace a ghost that doesn’t want to be found.”
His eyes narrow but it’s not in suspicion, but in something close to relief that he’s not ready to admit.
I place my laptop on the coffee table, the list of payments still glowing faintly on the screen. “I’ll find out who’s doing this to you,” I promise. “Not for a story or to fulfill my job demands. I’ll do it for you.”
The words sound strange, too intimate and too personal for a man who was supposed to be the subject of my stories, not one whose secret I want to protect.
But the line between those two roles feels thinner than a thread now.
Kai leans back, watching me with a gaze that’s unreadable but no longer cold. “You know if you dig too deep, you’re going to become part of it, right? Once you’re in, you’re in.”
I nod. “Then I’m in.”
