by Amy Brent
“I’m not happy about this,” I said.
“I know that,” my boss said.
“I’m not making a statement on the picture, either. I’m just doing the interview.”
“Just do your normal thing. That’s all I’m asking.”
“Mac?”
“Yeah, Sarah?”
“Did you ever believe in me? In what I could accomplish with this show?”
In that very moment, I watched my boss of three years drop every single wall he’d ever thrown up. I saw him become human for a split second, and he finally realized what he was looking at. A scared little girl who wanted to make a difference who was realizing that maybe she didn’t.
Maybe this scared little girl didn’t make a difference after all.
“I’ve always believed in your show. It’s why I took a pay cut in order to work it.”
“You what?” I asked.
“We’ll talk about it later. Right now, I heard Angie running down the hallway to get you ready. You’re on in forty-five.”
“Come on, girl,” Angie said. “Let’s get you ready for your lunchtime debut.”
But all I wanted to do was climb under a rock and cry. I’d never felt so helpless in my entire life. The thing I’d been striving toward since I was moved to the three o’clock hour was getting my show moved to lunchtime, and it was happening.
But it was happening because of that picture, and not because of my hard work.
“You ready?” Angie asked.
I stared at myself in the mirror and sighed. I sighed for the revelation I’d just come across. I sighed for the argument I’d just had with Mason. I sighed for the argument to come with Emma. But most of all? I sighed for my show.
I didn’t know if I believed in it anymore.
“Sure,” I said, shrugging. “I’m ready.”
Chapter 26
Mason
What the fuck was wrong with her? Why the hell was she blaming me for this shit? She wanted to keep doing this too. She wanted this arrangement as much as I had, though it might have taken a little coaxing. What the hell was so bad about it? Why was I so bad for her reputation? She exposed her scum boyfriend over a month ago! Why was it so hard to imagine her moving on with someone like me? I was better than that fucking scumbag. I’d done many things in my life, but cheating on a fucking woman was beneath me. I’d never pull that shit with Sarah, not in a million fucking years.
Even playboys had their standards and their own moral codes.
I called Sarah back after I watched her lunchtime interview. She was painted with makeup and a smile was plastered on her face, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes. She was rigid. Laid back. To the common eye, she looked fine. She was laughing with the person she was interviewing, and the entire segment was very humorous and respectful. But I knew better. I knew she was pissed.
What scared me was the fact that she was also lackadaisical. Almost like she didn’t care anymore.
That was very unlike Sarah.
I called her a few minutes after her show ended, but she didn’t pick up. I had to fight the urge to call her again, knowing if I pestered her long enough, she would finally answer. But, I fought against my urges, and I set my phone down. If I wanted any chance at garnering an audience with her anytime soon, I needed to leave her alone for the day. Let her wrap her mind around things and try to figure out what her next steps were.
So that’s exactly what I did.
I came and went from my house, ignoring the paparazzi that had managed to find my secluded property on the outskirts of Dallas. I told them I wasn’t giving any statements on the pictures, and I left it at that. Tony came over to field the press, trying to smooth things over without talking on my behalf. I kept my sunglasses on all day as I ran from place to place, still pricing out buildings where we could touchdown an office of ours and build up in the Dallas area.
I wanted to have all these numbers and figures going in case I could smooth things over with everyone.
Just as I was walking away from the fourth building I was pricing, I felt my phone vibrate on my hip. I wanted it to be Sarah. I wanted it to be her calling me, even if she yelled at me even more. That meant she hadn’t completely written me off yet, and I could convince her to meet me somewhere and have a glass of wine.
Just to talk about how we were going to navigate this.
But it was Tony, and I knew what he was going to say before I even put the phone to my ear.
“No, Tony,” I said.
“Mase, think about this. You need to give a statement. Hold a press conference and get out in front of this. The media will easily sway this into another scandal, and I’m not sure if a rousing round of positive interviews will fix this one.”
“Shit,” I said, groaning.
“You can keep it simple. You can keep Sarah’s name out of it, but you need to hold one. This is your image we’re talking about. This could tank the company.”
“I’m on my way to the house. Go ahead and set it up,” I said.
I drove up the driveway to my house, and the press was already setting up. Every single news station was there, and for the first time in my life, I felt nervous. I was nervous about standing up in front of those cameras and giving some sort of statement that would please them. If there was one thing I’d learned in the year that this company bloomed, it was that you could never fully please the media.
I had to understand that this didn’t only affect me. It affected Sarah and her career. It affected my relationship with Emma and whether she’d let me back in.
Oh fuck, this affected Emma.
We should’ve told her. Sarah and I should’ve told her right from the very beginning. We should’ve given her the benefit of the doubt instead of keeping this from her. She was going to be so pissed if she wasn’t already, and I didn’t know what I could do about it. We’d always had such a hard relationship, one that was surrounded by familial turmoil and Emma’s desperate need to piece her family back together. Emma would feel betrayed by the two people in her life she could trust, and the idea of being lumped into the same category as that asshat ex of hers made me sick to my stomach.
Instead of her brother and her best friend telling her about all this shit, she had to find out like a common groupie through the tabloids.
She was never going to forgive me.
I wanted to call her. I wanted to turn this car around, get on the phone with her, and meet her somewhere. I wanted to apologize. To beg for her forgiveness. I knew Sarah would never forgive me. I knew, deep down, she wasn’t coming back, but I’d enjoyed what I rekindled with my sister Wednesday night. The way she fell into me when I wrapped my arms around her.
Right then, I realized how much I wanted my sister in my life, but I knew she would screen my calls and probably ignore me like Sarah was doing now.
I pulled up to my house, and Tony came rushing over. He opened my car door, and I stepped out, buttoning up my suit coat as I turned toward the seated press. They were all on my front lawn, waiting desperately with their pens poised and their cameras ready. Tony patted me on my back and murmured something in my ear, but I didn’t catch it.
All I could think about was how I’d hurt Sarah and Emma in one fell swoop, and I felt helpless when it came to fixing it.
I walked up to the stand and cleared my throat. The cameras were rolling, and everyone was waiting on the edge of their seats, and suddenly, I knew exactly what I was going to say.
And I knew how to keep Sarah’s name out of it.
“This is stupid,” I began. “Every single bit of this.”
Tony’s brow furrowed slightly as he stood in the audience, but he didn’t move to stop me.
“Just because I’ve had a couple of scandals in the past, which both turned out to be lies, mind you, doesn’t mean I should be judged for kissing a beautiful woman outside of a restaurant. The first thing I want to make clear is that the picture was taken on the grounds of a restaurant that the city of D
allas has rendered a no-shoot-zone for the paparazzi. I know who took the photo, and you can rest assured that I’m coming after you.”
Tony was smirking in the back, and the press was in a writing frenzy as I looked directly into the camera.
“The woman in question in the photo does not deserve your anger. She’s vibrant, intelligent, and has somehow managed to tame the playboy that exists within me. I hear there are people calling her a hypocrite. Challenging her moral code and her ethics. So, I prompt you with this question. Why? Why is she a hypocrite? A woman who caught her ex-boyfriend cheating on her tossed him to the curb and took a public stance on how men should be treating women. With respect. With care. With the dedication and love they deserve. How does her kissing a man beside her car outside of a restaurant make her a hypocrite? Did she not wait long enough for you until she had eyes for someone else? Is there some book that outlines the proper amount of time a woman should grieve the loss of an asshole before she dips her toes back into the waters again?”
I took a deep breath and centered myself before my anger got the best of me on national television.
“There is no scandal here. Just two individuals with powerful influences enjoying lunch and each other’s company. The only scandal here is the fact that the photo was illegally apprehended, and that was after we chased down the man hiding like a coward in the bushes and deleted the photos from his camera. This man, this paparazzi who hid like an animal to forward his career, is the real scandal of this photo. And pretty soon, you will know his name because if he’s not fired in the next hour, I will buy out his place of employment just so I can fire him.”
Tony was biting back his laughter as all the press sitting on my lawn whipped up their heads in shock.
“The lives of the rich and influential are not yours to gawk over. I’m sure some media outlet will attempt to spin this as a scandal, so you heard it here first. There is none. Just a kiss, a beautiful woman, a man who enjoyed her company, and bellies full of a fabulous lunch that can be found at The Soufflé Salon. Thank you for your time, and there will be no questions taken.”
I stepped off the podium as pictures flashed and people called out with their questions. I stepped back into my home as Tony rallied all of them off my property, and I watched the news while impromptu workers broke down the press conference set up. I smiled when I saw the paparazzi guy’s face flash up on the screen. Fired within twenty minutes of me giving my statement.
Good fucking riddance to that asshole.
The Soufflé Salon was giving their official statement on the situation as I closed my eyes. I allowed the sting of the bourbon to slowly burn down my throat as I thought back to Emma and Sarah. I hoped she would appreciate my statement. I hoped it would somehow rehabilitate her image from those who were determined to tear her down. I hoped it would provide an outlet for her to make a statement that would pull her reputation out of the dumpster I still didn’t understand. I didn’t know why social media was chewing her up and spitting her out the way they were, but I hoped I could help.
If only just a little.
I twirled my phone in my hand, the screen lighting up with Emma’s number. I wanted to call her. I wanted to beg for her forgiveness. I wanted to tell her that it was all my idea. Take the blame for keeping this from her before Sarah told her the truth.
But that was what got us into this shit in the first place.
We hadn’t been honest with Emma, and we needed to be honest with her now.
I pressed the dial button and held the phone to my ear. It didn’t shock me when it went automatically to her voicemail, but I left her a message I hope would prompt her to call me.
A message I hoped would tap into that sisterly part of her that had been ignited Wednesday night.
“I have no words other than I’m sorry. Sarah and I panicked when we found out her best friend and my sister were the same person. All we wanted to do was enjoy one another while enjoying you as well. Sarah thought you would be upset, and I thought you wouldn’t want to meet up with me anymore. I’m sorry, Emma. I really, truly am.”
I hung up the phone and set it beside me while the last of the equipment drove off down the road. My Dallas home was no longer a secret. My sister was no longer taking my phone calls. The woman I’d sought stress relief and solace in wanted nothing to do with me.
The three things that rooted me to this city were gone, and I felt the prices of the building flee my mind as I continued to sip on the amber liquid in my hand.
No point in staying in Dallas now.
Chapter 27
Sarah
“Emma. Open up!”
I’d called Emma several times throughout the day to no avail. She wouldn’t answer my text messages, she wouldn’t take my calls, and she probably wasn’t listening to the voice messages I was leaving. I wasn’t going to bed tonight until we talked, even if that meant I had to stand here banging all night on her townhome door.
“I know you’re here! Your car’s out front.”
“Go away,” she said.
“Not a chance. You’re my best friend, and you’re hurt and it’s because of me. Now, open up so we can talk.”
Finally, I heard the lock on her door being thrown. The knob turned, and I placed my hand on the door, slowly pushing it open as I saw her walking away from me. I stepped in and shut the door, paying very close attention to my surroundings. The last time Emma and I fought anywhere remotely close to this, she swung a frying pan at me.
At least she knew how to protect herself.
“All the kitchenware put up?” I asked.
“Get in here and talk or leave,” she said.
“Emma, I’m so sorry you had to find out this way,” I said. “I never meant for you to find out like this.”
“I don’t think you ever meant for me to find out, period,” she said.
“Has Mason been trying to call you?”
“Yep.”
“Have you taken his calls?”
“Nope.”
“You should. This was all my idea. He just went along with things,” I said.
“Mason isn’t the type of person to just go along with things.”
“Yeah, well. I’m breaking the mold with him,” I said.
“Oh, how quaint.”
Emma sat down on the couch, and I sat down beside her. She was staring out the window into her backyard, trying to keep her gaze off me. Her arms were folded around her chest, and her eyes were red. She’d been crying because of me, and I felt like shit for it.
“Out of all the things you’ve done, this was shady, Sarah.”
“I know. And I’m sorry. I swear to you, when this first started, I had no fucking clue he was your brother.”
“So, you guys were fucking before the dinner.”
“Yes,” I said.
“When did you find out Mason was my brother?” she asked.
“The week before last. A few days after you told me he blew you off. It literally was something we stumbled into. We were trying to make up, and he kept calling and—”
“Make up? So, this was around the time you told me shit was broken off between you two?”
“Yes,” I said. “I told you things were broken off, he kept calling incessantly, I finally picked up the phone and I agreed to lunch. That’s when we found out, and I walked away again. I swear to you,” I said.
“So, how did you go from walking away to hiding the fact that you were fucking my brother?” she asked.
“He was persistent, I guess. Came to my dressing room, there was this whole thing with my boss, we talked…”
“Did you actually talk?” she asked.
“We did, yes. He proposed an idea to just be fuck buddies, essentially. No strings. Just good food, some attention, some other things.”
“Sex. I’m a big girl, Sarah. Sex. And you agreed,” she said.
“Yes, and then I was the one to lay down the conditions. That we couldn’t tell you because you wouldn’t a
pprove. He actually tried to talk me out of that. Didn’t think I’d be able to do it because of our relationship.”
“Looks like we both learned something new about you,” she said.
“Emma, this was never to hurt you.”
“I guess my brother lays down some decent cock. I’ve never known you to keep anything from me, Sarah. Ever. What the fuck’s wrong with you?’
“Wrong with me? Emma, you didn’t even want me dating.”
“And you agreed with me!” she exclaimed.
“To get you to shut up about it, yes, but I enjoyed Mason right from the get-go. Not telling you was less about him being your brother and more about the fact that you’d be pissed I was seeing someone.”
“Yes, because you choose the shittiest men,” she said.
“Is your brother a shitty man?” I asked.
“He’s making up for it, but in the past, yes.”
“Emma, you didn’t even want me seeing anyone because of how it would backfire. How was I supposed to tell you the guy I was fuck buddies with was your brother?” I asked.
“Well, it did backfire. You see your social media feed? They’re eating you alive,” I said.
“Not since Mason’s press conference. They’ve toned down a bit,” I said.