His response came almost immediately.“Ugh. Yes. Absolutely dreadful article. I’m so sorry, Tavi.”
“We should talk to figure out a game plan, or something,” I wrote back. “Are you busy? Can I come over?”
“Sure, come on over.”
I wasted no time grabbing the keys to Dakota’s Mercedes and heading out to Leo’s place. As I drove through the city streets,my mind raced with questions and uncertainties. Something didn’t sit right with me. Leo had already seen the article—that alone was understandable; he’d probably woken up to a dozen texts from friends asking him what was up with it, like I had. But thequestion bothering me was, why hadn’t he reached out to me after he’d seen it?
Leo greeted me at his condo with a hug. “I amsosorry,” he said. “That article was such bullshit. You must be devastated.”
“I’m not exactly thrilled,” I said. “You must be pretty upset, too?”
“Oh yeah. It’s a joke,” he murmured.
He seemed uncomfortable, his eyes darting from side to side, which wasn’t unreasonable, considering the circumstances—but still, I had a strange feeling; something I couldn’t quite put my finger on.
“I’m going to make a cup of coffee,” he said, pointing me towards the living room. “Can I get you one?”
“Already had mine, thanks.”
I settled into the living room and waited. A few minutes later, Leo joined me in the living room with a steaming hot cup of coffee in one hand and his phone in the other. He placed both items on the coffee table and sat next to me on the couch.
“So, the article,” he began, “what’d you want to talk about?”
“Well, I wanted to pick your brain about it and see what you thought. Dakota thinks it’s a good thing. I’m not so sure.” I caught Leo’s eye. “Honestly, I think my dad’s behind it.”
“Sal?” He gasped, seemingly shocked. “But why would he do that?”
I told him my theory that Dad was dead-set on trading Dakota, but he needed cover with the fanbase. That’s what the controversy was for—to create favorable conditions for a trade by convincing the fans that Dakota would never change.
“The only thing I don’t understand is why he’d dragournames through the mud, though,” I said, again catching Leo’s eye. “Because he could easily trash Dakota without getting us involved.”
He dodged my gaze and glanced at the floor. “Yeah. Good question. That’d be weird. I really don’t know.”
A lull settled between us, punctuated only by the soft sound of Leo sipping from his mug of coffee. The atmosphere between us felt heavy and I didn’t understand why. I didn’t understand his blasé attitude about it, either.Somethingwas off.
I broke the silence. “Can I ask you something, Leo?”
He ran the palm of his hand against the top of his thigh anxiously. “Ah, yeah, sure.”
“What’s up?”
“What do you mean?” he asked.
“Aren’t you upset? That article made you look like a ‘cuck.’ Dakota’s words. Not mine.”
“That’s me. Leopold Lancaster, the biggest cuckold in all of Las Vegas.” He snickered. “Yeah, I mean … I’m upset.”
He didn’t look it, though, nor did he sound like it.
“You’d already seen the article when I texted you. Why didn’t you reach out to me?” I asked.
He scratched at the back of his neck. “I guess I didn’t want to wake you with bad news,” he murmured. “I figured you’d probably see it as soon as you woke up, like I did.”
I could’ve accepted his answer. It seemed possible; likely, even. Hell, Iwantedto believe him. But my instincts told me to press harder, that there was more to the story.
“Leo, we promised each other we would tell each othereverything,remember?”
I’d expected him to recoil, maybe even get a little angry, and ask me what the hell I meant by that.
