The King

“Kicking you out was the last thing on my list of an infinite number of things to do right now. Asking you what you’re doing here was the first.”


“I stopped by the M?bius,” she said, her words halting and nervous. “I wanted to say hi to Holly and the other girls. It was shut down. I called Holly, and she told me what happened.”

“You happened,” Kingsley reminded her, torn between fury at seeing her in his house and relief at simply seeing her again.

“I know,” Sam said. “But, please, hear me out.”

“I’m listening.”

Sam took a breath. “I heard about Irina. They said she got arrested again, and they’re going to deport her.”

“My attorney’s waving the white f lag for me. I surrendered. But that should be enough to get Irina’s paperwork un-lost.”

“I can’t believe you gave up.”

“What choice did I have?”

“You could have not given up and let everyone suffer,” she said, taking a step forward.

“What kind of king would I be if I let my people suffer for my mistakes?”

“You might not believe me, but you have to trust me.” She ran her hands through her hair. She didn’t have a suit on now. She wore jeans, a white shirt and black suspenders. She’d gotten her hair cut, and now she looked even more boyish than before. Boyish and beautiful as always. “I know what it’s like to take the fall for someone else’s sins.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means you should get ready. Fuller’s coming over here, and you and I are going to have a talk with him.”

“Why? You have more information about me you want to sell him?”

“No. Because I want to destroy him as much as you. And we can.”

“How?” Kingsley asked.

Sam reached into a bag at her feet and pulled something out.

“You were right, King.” She held up a VHS videotape and smiled. “There’s always something. And I found it.”





38


SAM DIDN’T TELL KINGSLEY ANYTHING ELSE, AND IT was the greatest test of his faith not to press her into spilling all her secrets. Instead, she marched right to his office as if she owned it, turned on the television and put the tape in the VCR. She didn’t hit Play.

“You’re not going to talk to me?” Kingsley asked her. “You’re not going to explain yourself?”

“The tape will explain it,” Sam said. “And you have to trust me.”

“I don’t have to do anything but die and pay taxes, and I think I’ve found a way around the second one.”

“Please, King. Let me do this for you. You did so much for me.”

“You get one chance,” he said. “One.”

“One is all I need. I promise. I won’t let you down again.”

Before Kingsley could ask another question, Blaise opened the door and ushered Reverend Fuller inside. She shut the door behind him and made herself scarce. He didn’t blame her.

“What’s this about?” Fuller asked. He had on a suit and tie and looked as pastoral as Kingsley had ever seen him. “I was told you had something for me, Mr. Edge. Something I needed to see.”

“Don’t ask me,” Kingsley said, knowing Fuller expected Kingsley to attempt to bribe him. Fuller likely had a wire on right now, recording everything. “I don’t know anything. Ask her.”

Reverend Fuller looked her up and down.

“You called me, didn’t you?” Fuller asked. “Have we met?”

“Nope,” she said. “But your wife and I have.”

“You know my wife? How?” Fuller asked, warily.

Sam picked up the remote control.

“Close your eyes, King,” Sam said.

Although he didn’t want to, Kingsley did as ordered. And as soon as his eyes were closed, Sam must have hit the Play button because the next sound he heard was a woman—not Sam—having an orgasm.

Kingsley burst into laughter. He should have known.

“Turn that filth off,” Fuller demanded.

“Filth?” Sam repeated. “That’s your wife. And me. We aren’t filthy. We’d just gotten out of the shower. She loves showering with me.”

“Turn it off.”

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