Page 92 of Sliding into Love
I do as instructed, stirring the vegetables every few minutes. The kitchen smells amazing—garlic and ginger and sesame oil mixing together. I'm contemplating whether I should crack open a bottle of wine or wait for Royce to get back when I hear it.
A phone buzzing.
I look at the dining table and realize Royce left their phone behind. It's vibrating insistently, the screen lighting up with an incoming call. I ignore it at first. It's not my phone, not my business. But then it rings again immediately after the first call ends.
And then again.
And again.
By the fifth call in as many minutes, I'm starting to worry. What if it's an emergency? What if something happened to Bellamy or their parents? What if someone from the team needs them urgently?
The phone buzzes again, and this time I pick it up, intending to just see who's calling. The name on the screen makes me pause: "Carver."
I don't recognize the name. The phone stops ringing, then immediately starts again. Whoever this is, they're persistent. Desperate, even.
Before I can talk myself out of it, I answer.
"Hello?"
There's a pause, then a man's voice, rough and urgent: "Royce? Thank god. I've been trying to reach you?—"
"This isn't Royce," I interrupt. "They left their phone at home. Can I take a message?"
Another pause, longer this time. "Who is this?"
"Kenneth. I'm…" I hesitate, unsure how to label myself. "I'm Royce's partner. What’s wrong? Is this an emergency?"
"Fuck." The man sounds stressed. Panicked, even. "Yeah, it's an emergency. I need Royce. We have a new group that needs to be moved, and the original transport fell through. The situation is getting volatile, and we need to act fast."
My blood runs cold. Group? Moved? Volatile situation?
"What kind of group?” I ask carefully, my mind already jumping to conclusions I don't want to consider.
"I can't explain over the phone, but Royce will understand. We need them to coordinate the transfer tonight. Within the next few hours if possible. Can you get them this message?"
"I… yeah, I can do that." My hand is gripping the phone too tightly. "But maybe you should explain what it all means.”
"There's no time. Just tell Royce to call me back immediately. Lives are at stake here." He pauses, then adds, "And Kenneth? Don't mention this to anyone else. The fewer people who know about this, the safer everyone is."
The line goes dead.
I stand there in my kitchen, vegetables forgotten, staring at Royce's phone. My mind is racing, trying to make sense of what I just heard.
A group that needs to be moved.
A volatile situation.
Lives at stake.
Don't tell anyone.
Every piece of information points to illegal activities. Something dangerous.
No. No, there has to be another explanation. This is Royce. The person who takes care of everyone, who built a team into a family, who cried when they talked about their therapy journey. They wouldn't be involved in anything criminal.
But then what was that phone call about?
I think about all the times Royce has been vague about their other businesses. The way they sometimes get mysterious phone calls and step away to take them. The separate phone they mentioned once in passing. The way they deflected when I asked too many questions about what they do when they're not at the stadium.
