Dirty Laundry

I shrugged off my jacket as I settled into my office. I was thankful to be out of the frigid air, as I still wasn’t used to real winters yet. Cold weather was my kryptonite, having grown up in the southwest, and during the winter months I considered it an accomplishment if I made it from the warmth of my bedroom to my kitchen. It was pathetic.

Fridays were typically the slowest day in the office. I booted up my computer and logged into my e-mail account, not at all surprised to find a slew of unread messages. I developed a permanent scowl as I sorted through them, tired of the same old song and dance. A message from Harry toward the very bottom was my saving grace.

Until I opened it and saw there were 54 attachments, anyway.

The pictures had been taken all throughout Europe—at landmarks, with locals, while eating, in hotel rooms—and they were all pictures he’d taken of himself. Harry Styles had sent me fifty-four selfies.

The line rang twice before he picked up. “Hey Elle.”

“You sent me fifty-four pictures of yourself,” I said, trying to convey the sound of me rolling my eyes.

“Ah, you got my email! What’d you think? I thought the one in Amsterdam may’ve been a bit much, but—”

I scrolled through the photos. “Is that the one of you with a prostitute?” I asked, cutting him off.

“That’s the one! Nice girl, she was. Her name was Isa.”

I hummed in acknowledgement. “Did Isa leave you with a parting gift?”

Harry must’ve been drinking something, because he started choking once he realized what I was implying. “Elle! That’s a very naughty thing to ask!”

“Let’s be serious, Haz: how many people leave the Red Light District with a clean bill of health?”

“I can’t believe you think I’d sleep with a prostitute.” In the background, I could hear someone knocking on the door of Harry’s office. “Gotta run, love, but I’ll be seeing you later?”

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

We said our goodbyes and I tried to get my focus back on work. It was hard. Harry had been gone all summer and had only returned two days ago. Our communication had been limited to emails and the occasional Skype chat, and it was nice to hear his voice after so long of being separated by oceans and thousands of miles. I was proud of him, the way a parent’s proud of their child for making the honor roll. He’d done exactly what he set out to do.

Sloane, who had been on her way to her desk, stopped in the doorway. “Was that Harry?” she asked, though the pen stuck between her teeth jumbled what she was trying to say.

I nodded. “He sent me fifty-four fucking pictures of himself.”

Her eyebrows rose. “What kind of pictures?”

I grabbed a pen from the pencil holder on my desk and flung it at her. “Just because you got a promotion doesn’t mean I can’t fire you!”

Out of habit, I checked my watch for the time. I still had some time before my appointment was scheduled to come in so I spent it lurking the Internet. I fought off a smile as I read a headline about multimillionaire Harry Styles coming up with a long-term plan to fix Cyprus after a three-week stay.

“Elle?” I looked over to Jess, who I’d hired to take Sloane’s spot after she got promoted. “Your two-o’clock is here.”

I nodded and tried to fix my hair as best I could. Standing, I shook the hand of a thirty-something woman in an expensive business suit. “Elle Koenig. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“Likewise,” the woman replied. She took a seat and I took a quick glance at her file.

“What can I help you with, Mrs. Taylor?”

She wrung her hands together. “I…I’ve been feeling suspicious of my husband lately.” I nodded, waiting for her to continue. “There have just been some things that don’t add up.”

“What kind of things?” I asked, taking notes on a small tablet.

“There has been some money missing from our account and what he says he spent it on couldn’t possibly be right. Sometimes I’ll wake up in the middle of the night and he’ll be gone. I just…I don’t know. Something isn’t right. He’s never acted like this before.”

I finished my notes and met her at eye-level. “Do you have any idea what might be making him act this way?”

She shook her head, staring down at her lap the whole time. “We have children. Whatever’s going on, I want to nip it in the bud before it affects them.”

“Of course.” I rummaged through an organizer on my desk and handed her a business card. “I’m going to assign this to Sloane Burgan. She’s relatively new, but she’s one of the best we have here and she’ll take care of you.”

Mrs. Taylor looked ready to burst into tears. “Thank you.”

“The pleasure is all mine. I don’t think Sloane has anything booked today. Why don’t I take you to her office and you two can discuss the specifics of what’s going on?”

I still wasn’t used to the layout of the new place. We were renting the twelfth floor of an old office building near 51st. The traffic was horrendous, especially in the evening, but it suited our new needs perfectly. Everyone was able to have their own office—or their own cubicle, at the very worst—and no one was on top of one another like we had been previously. Of course, that was when there were only four of us employed.

After I introduced Sloane to her new client, I made a beeline for the break room. Some of the newbies were swapping stories about their cases and instantly shut up when I walked in. I smiled, thankful to still have marginal intimidation effect, and made myself a cup of coffee. The talking resumed as soon as I was out the door.

Time seemed to go by quicker now. I had more employees which meant I had more to do, and even though Fridays were typically dull and uneventful, five-o’clock rolled around before I had the chance to blink.

“Thanks for assigning me that nutcase,” Sloane said as she joined me in the elevator. I snorted. “Mia couldn’t have done it?”

I faux-glared. “Me and Mia are bigwigs now, Sloane. We don’t do cases anymore, we hand them out to plebs like you.”

The elevator chimed as we reached the ground floor. “Have any fun plans for the holiday weekend?” she asked, abandoning our previous discussion.

“I have a Christmas party to go to tonight—”

Sloane cut me off with an excited squeal. “With your boyfriend?”

A snort of laughter interrupted both of us. “Yes, with her boyfriend.”

“Louis!” Sloane greeted him, wrapping him in a hug. “How have you been? I haven’t seen you in weeks!”

“I’ve been brilliant,” he replied, shooting a smile my way. “Have a good weekend, Sloane.”

She called a you too! over her shoulder as she exited the building, leaving Louis and I alone in the lobby. Unsurprisingly, he looked like a million bucks in such a simple outfit. Harry’s Christmas party called for casual attire, and I’d learned quickly that Louis was not a casual kind of guy. When he wasn’t dressed to the nines, he still looked clean-cut and expensive.

“How do you manage to look so nice in a damn sweater?” I asked, crossing my arms over my chest.

“Wait till you see my peacoat,” he replied, wiggling his eyebrows. I laughed, slapping him on the chest as we braved the New York cold.

Harry’s building wasn’t too far off so we decided to walk. As much as I hated the weather, there was something magical about seeing the city so lit up—romantic, even. Louis slipped his hand into mine and squeezed. I smiled wider.

“How was work?” he asked, stopped briefly at a food cart to buy two cups of watered-down hot chocolate. He gave the vendor a fifty and told him to have a nice holiday.

“Not bad,” I answered. I blew on my drink before I sipped it, cursing as I burnt my tongue. “Sloane got her first big-girl case and she’s terrified.”

“Didn’t she pass the licensing exam with flying colors?” I nodded. “She’ll be fine. After she has a few cases under her belt, she’ll be the best private investigator in the state.”

That was the thing about Louis: he was always positive, always encouraging, always focusing on the best in people. Every now and then I’d think about what Genevieve said—that he was naive and a pushover—and I couldn’t believe how wrong she’d been.

We reached Harry’s building as a light snow began to fall. I hurried inside, not trying to stay out in the elements longer than I needed to, but Louis stayed behind and made a spectacle of trying to catch snowflakes on his tongue.

“Not hungry?” he asked as he joined me by the elevator.

I rolled my eyes. “Very funny.”

We could hear the party in full swing as soon as we stepped onto Harry’s floor. Louis gripped my hand tightly, and I realized then that I hadn’t asked if he’d kept in touch with Harry while he was in Europe. I was betting that he hadn’t.

Letting ourselves in, we stashed our coats by the door and made our way into the living room. There were people everywhere, and not one I recognize. I felt Louis relax as he realized Emma wasn’t in attendance, though he knew Harry had fired her right before he left the country. Still, I knew it meant a lot for him to be able to enjoy himself.

“You two made it!” he cheered once he spotted us. He had a glass of wine in hand and a smile on his face. Then he realized I was wearing the same white dress I’d worn a few months ago and his face fell. “Christ, Elle, you look stunning.” Louis slugged him on the arm and Harry offered him a drunk smile. “Sorry, mate.”

I excused myself from the triad so they could catch up and do whatever it was men did at parties. Even though I didn’t know anyone, I figured as long as I had a glass of something in my hand and looked like I was having a blast, I could blend in.

Rounding the corner into the kitchen, something caught my eye. Harry had replaced the large photograph of him and Genevieve with a dozen smaller ones that he’d taken on his trip. Once I began looking for them, there were more everywhere: on his end tables, on the mantle of his fireplace. Rather than more pictures from his trip, those were of him and Louis.

Then, as I examined the lone picture frame sitting on a shelf in his bookcase, my breath hitched in my throat. It was the first picture Louis and I had taken together as a couple. We’d gone out for my birthday in September; Louis must’ve sent it to him.

I was hit with a thousand thoughts at once. What if Genevieve had never strolled into my office? What if Harry had never asked me to look after Louis? Everything happened exactly as it should have. I was never a big believer in fate, but looking at the current state of affairs, it was getting more difficult to argue against it.

After pouring two glasses of wine, I rejoined Louis in the living room. He was mid-conversation with one of his partners at the firm but turned his attention to me. “Thanks, love.” He kissed the corner of my mouth.

Harry bustled over and wedged himself in between me and Lou, pulling us in close. He tossed his phone to the man Louis had been talking to and asked him to take a picture. As he counted down from three, Harry planted a kiss on Louis’s cheek at the last second. Taking his phone back, Harry grinned at the resulting photo and showed it to me. I don’t think I’d ever looked happier.

Probably because I never had been.