by Mia Caldwell
Agatha shrugged one bony shoulder. “There you go again. It’s all about you, isn’t it? That’s the problem with instant celebrity. It goes to your head and you start thinking the whole world revolves around you. My dear, you’ll have to work hard to keep your ego in check now that you’re famous.”
“Outrageous,” Marina said.
“I know,” Agatha agreed with a smug look. “But it’s common, so everyone should keep that in mind as Mrs. Buckley adjusts to her new status. I don’t have time to take on a new client, but I can recommend someone for you, dear. They could tutor you in how to manage your narcissism, or at least, keep it a secret from the public, which is the most important thing.”
Marina grunted in disgust. Sasha sighed before cramming a handful of trail mix in her mouth. Elly looked confused. And Ms. Kitty stood up, tail high and stiff, fur slightly ridged along her back. She jumped off the bed and stalked out of the room with the aplomb of an offended queen.
“Ignore Agatha,” Sasha said to Jada, a few crumbs stuck on her ample lips. “She’s a professional projector.”
Marina laughed. Elly still looked confused and Agatha’s smugness didn’t waver. Jada was saved from responding by the end of the commercial break.
“Prior to Jada Howarth-Buckley’s fairy tale marriage,” Piper crooned, “she had a low level job at a small accounting firm in Springers Glen. What a change it must be for Jada, going from a dismal little office building where she toiled away every day, crunching boring numbers in her tiny cubicle to the dazzling and thrilling world of billionaire and international playboy Ian Buckley.”
The screen showed a company publicity picture taken during a clean-up-the-river day. Mostly, it showed Jada from behind, wearing a raggedy flannel shirt and rubber waders, bent over and trying to shove a wad of slimy muck into a trash bag. Next, the picture changed to the tidy, brick exterior of Jada’s accounting firm before flashing onto the “dazzling and thrilling” theme which included shots of brightly-lit casinos stretching along the Riviera at night, a fancy yacht, and finally, the front of the Hearst castle in San Simeon.
“Quite a change, quite a change,” Piper repeated.
“Puh-leeze,” Marina said.
“Agreed,” Agatha said. “Ian’s yacht is much bigger than that one.”
“I don’t think Ian has a yacht.” Sasha leaned forward, brushing her crumb-covered fingers off on her stretchy yoga pants.
Both Jada and Elly watched with furrowed brows as Sasha’s orange crumbs cascaded onto the pristine white bedspread.
“Oh no. It’s your boss,” Marina said.
Jada looked up. Sure enough, there, big as life, was one of the partners where Jada worked, Mr. Saturn Talleyrand. He was a dignified older man, with plenty of age spots on his brown skin and a ring of white, curly hair that didn’t come close to covering the dome of his large head.
“Yes, Jada Howarth works for us here at Talleyrand, Dilling, Stifferton and Associates,” Mr. Talleyrand said in his most formal voice. “She’s a valued member of our team. I’m afraid I’m not at liberty to say more since we respect our employees’ right to privacy at Talleyrand, Dilling, Stifferton and Associates.”
“When did Mrs. Buckley quit her job?” Piper asked, the camera shifting between her overly-bright blonde self and the upright accountant.
“To the best of my knowledge, Jada Howarth is still an employee of Talleyrand, Dilling, Stifferton and Associates,” he replied.
Piper looked straight into the camera with raised eyebrows. “So, the new Mrs. Buckley doesn’t give proper notice before leaving jobs. Interesting.”
“As I said, she’s still an employee of—”
“You don’t think the wife of a billionaire is going to work at a tiny accounting firm in your quaint little town, do you?” Piper overflowed with superiority.
“I couldn’t say.” Mr. Talleyrand lifted his chin in equal disdain for Piper. “Talleyrand, Dilling, Stifferton and Associates is a well-respected firm with clients around the world and a reputation for superior results.”
“Of course it is,” Piper said, syrupy condescension dripping from her overly-bleached fangs. “Is there anything else you could tell us about Mrs. Buckley?”
“Nothing other than we send congratulations to her and her husband on their nuptials and best wishes for their future. We at Talleyrand, Dilling, Stifferton and Associates stand ready to assist her and her husband in any way in the future. You can trust us to treat your money as if it were our own. That’s our motto here at Talleyrand, Dilling—”
“Yes, yes, thank you so much, sir,” Piper said.
Marina broke into the broadcast with a loud laugh. “Ha! She didn’t let him get in another plug. Ha-ha.”
“He did pretty good, though,” Sasha said. “He must have gotten the name in a dozen times.”
“Only five and a half times,” Agatha said with a sniff. “He might as well not have bothered. You must repeat something at least seven times for it to stick in an average person’s brain. And with that firm’s terrible, long name, I think he actually would have had to say it a dozen times or more. Mr. Talleyrand should hire a publicist and have a discussion about branding. I’ll give him a ring. You have his number, don’t you Jada?”
Jada lowered the volume on the television. “I thought you didn’t have time for new clients.”
She giggled, a misplaced sound coming from a woman of her forty-something years. “You caught me. I admit, I have ulterior motives. I find your former boss extremely attractive.”
“Mother!” Sasha made a gack sound. “Haven’t you buried enough husbands? Five should be plenty for any woman. Give that poor Talleyrand guy a break and let him live.”
Agatha raised a drawn-on eyebrow, patted her beehive hairdo and leaned forward to stare down Jada and Elly, both of whom wore horrified expressions. “She’s kidding. Only three of my husbands died. Natural causes. I divorced the other two.”
“Whew!” Marina said, her voice tinny through the phone’s speakers. “I’m sure we all feel better now. Don’t you feel better, Jada?”
Jada mumbled that she guessed so while scrutinizing Agatha with suspicion.
A deep, masculine voice coming from the doorway interrupted Jada’s inspection. “So this is where everyone is this morning. Are these two bothering you, Jada?”
It was Ian. He stood in the doorway surveying the scene with a less-than-pleased look on his handsome face. He was dressed casually in a pair of light trousers and a loose cotton shirt that was unbuttoned low enough to reveal an enticing triangle of tanned and toned man-chest.
Jada’s stomach tumbled over on itself. He was here. He hadn’t returned to the city after all.
She warned herself to be cool, not to make too much of his continued presence at the estate. She couldn’t help herself, though, and hoped against hope for a positive answer to a critically important question.
Had he stayed because of her?
IAN EYED THE SCENE, THE four women snugged in next to one another on Jada’s bed. Mostly, he wanted to look at Jada.
“Who’s that?” a female voice asked through the speakers of a phone on the bed.
“It’s the head man himself,” Sasha answered. “Mr. Big. Mr. Ian Buckley, billionaire extraordinaire. AKA your new brother-in-law.”
“Oh!” the phone said.
Ian ignored Sasha’s absurd introduction and walked over to Elly’s side of the bed so he could see the television screen. Elly hopped up and offered her seat to him, but he waved her back down.
“What are you watching?” he asked. “And who’s on the phone?”
“Right, introductions, sorry,” Jada said in a rush. “Marina, this is Ian Buckley, my fake husband. Ian, this is Marina on the speaker phone, my real sister.”
“Nice to meet you,” Marina said in a formal, polite tone.
“Nice to meet you, too,” Ian said. “I suppose my marriage makes you my sister-in-law.”
“That’s right. Welcome to
the family, such as it is.”
“Well aren’t you all one big happy gathering?” Agatha flopped back against the headboard, crossed her twig-like arms and pointed a long, skeletal finger at the TV. “At least CGTV knows what the real story is here.”
Everyone looked back toward the television. Jada turned the volume up.
An overly made-up blonde woman primped on the screen. She had a fake pouty expression and batted her lashes so much he wondered if she had a bug in her eye. A small picture of Sasha walking a runway was plastered in an upper corner of the screen.
“I’m Piper Sandy, and welcome back to our special program,” the woman said. “While we all wish the Buckleys much marital bliss, we can’t forget that there’s a casualty in this story of secret, runaway love—poor, beautiful, spurned supermodel Sasha. She must be devastated, inconsolable to be tossed aside so callously. Oh! All of our hearts here at CGTV go out to her.”
“Aww,” Sasha said. “That’s so sweet.”
“Sure,” Jada said, “if anyone at CGTV actually had a heart to give.”
“What the hell is this?” Ian asked.
Elly looked like she was ready to sprint for the door. Sasha picked at her teeth. Agatha thumbed furiously on her cell phone.
“It’s a show, about our marriage, and now it’s about Sasha, too, apparently,” Jada said.
Ian could tell Jada was trying to make light of the situation, but he saw the tension in tiny lines at the corners of her mouth.
The woman on the television gassed on about how wrecked Sasha must be. Ian’s gaze flickered between the TV and Jada.
“I told you, Agatha,” Sasha said, a finger still in her mouth. “This whole deal is going to help my image, not hurt it. Look, they’re interviewing people on the street.”
“I think Piper must not like you, Jada,” Marina said.
Jada went “Mmph.”
“Piper doesn’t give two hoots about our Mrs. Buckley one way or the other,” Agatha said. “She knows you have to tell the people a thrilling story, and that means you’ve got to have a good guy and a bad guy. That’s just how it is. Nothing personal.”
From the look on Jada’s face, Ian knew she was taking it personally nonetheless.
The television showed a girl who couldn’t have been more than twelve standing on a busy sidewalk. She spoke rapidly into a microphone. “I cried when I heard that Sasha tried to kill herself because her boyfriend cheated on her. It was like on that show, you know, ‘Gogo Girlz Town,’ where Cherabina was going to take all those pills because her man went out with that slutty girl, and it was all wrong because it was. And I cried too, cause.”
A tween girl wearing too much eye makeup was next. “I feel terrible for Sasha. She’s so pretty, and that other one looked so yuck on TV with her hair going everywhere and those disgusting clothes. No way. I love Sasha! Yay Sasha! We love you!”
Jada’s face grew more strained with each passing second.
Ian reached down, pried the remote control from her clenched fist and turned off the TV. “That’s enough. It’s disgusting muckraking of the worst kind. Everybody clear out and give Jada her room back.”
Elly disappeared practically before Ian finished talking, the tray of breakfast dishes rattling loudly in her arms. Agatha and Sasha took their time departing.
“Figures,” Agatha said as she slowly slid off the bed. “It finally gets to the good stuff about my client and he turns off the show.”
Ian shook his head. “There are so many televisions in this house that I can’t count them all. If you must, watch that nonsense on one of those.”
“Come on, Agatha,” Sasha said, tucking baggies of what looked like snacks under her arms. “We’ll watch it downstairs in the theatre room. Maybe they’ll mention your name. You know how you love that.”
“I would not love that. I’m all about you. It’s all I care about.” She stopped at the foot of the bed and stared at her cell. “Hold on a sec, I think I found Mr. Talleyrand’s email address.”
Ian scowled at Sasha, who took the hint and grabbed her mother’s wrist, towing her from the room.
He marched over and closed the door behind them then turned back to Jada who looked tiny sitting alone on the big bed. “I’m sorry about that. If you want, I’ll throw them out.”
“Oh, no, they’re okay,” Jada said. “Well, Sasha is, anyway.” Her small, brave smile tugged at Ian’s heart.
She looked adorable in her oversized, fluffy robe, and sexy, too, with her dark hair shining, pulled back into a simple, sleek ponytail. Her lower legs were bare and shapely, stretching out in delicious coffee-colored contrast to the white robe and bedspread.
It wasn’t lost on Ian that one tug of the tie around Jada’s waist would be all it would take to reveal what she wore underneath that robe. He hoped she wore nothing under there. Nothing at all. Not a stitch. Nada. Jada. Damn.
Feelings stirred in places that, frankly, shouldn’t be getting stirred up in the current situation. But then, it had been those feelings which had kept him from returning to the city that morning, hadn’t it? He couldn’t part from the lovely Jada.
“How did you sleep?” he asked. “Has Elly been taking good care of you?”
“I slept fine and Elly’s wonderful,” Jada answered. “But I’m kind of embarrassed about last night. I said some things that—”
He held up a hand. “You have nothing to be embarrassed about. If it makes you feel any better, I thought you were wonderful.”
“Oh,” she said, glancing away. “That’s kind of you, considering everything.”
Ian frowned. She took too much on herself, when it should be on him. “It’s for me to apologize to you. I should have explained everything before those two made it to the dining room. My only excuse is that I was too busy feeling sorry for myself to think about what you were feeling. I’m truly sorry for that, and it won’t happen again.”
She looked up at him through long, curling lashes. “That’s okay. I can’t blame you for it. Anyone would be sorry to have to deal with an angry Agatha.”
“That isn’t why I was sorry for myself, or, not much of it.” Ian stiffened his spine for his confession. “I was disappointed they were here because I wanted to keep you all to myself. I didn’t want to share.”
Jada smiled at him and warmth built in his chest.
She opened her mouth to speak but was cut off by a voice chiming out from the bed covers.
“Ahem. Sorry, you two,” Marina said via the cell’s speakers. “I’m still here.”
Jada snatched up the phone. “Why didn’t you say something?”
“I am saying something.”
“I’ll call you back later.”
“Okay, but—”
Jada ended the call and shoved the cell into her pocket. “Gosh, that wasn’t awkward, was it?”
Ian found himself scuffing a heel on the floor then forced himself to quit the schoolboy reaction. “I ... er ... can’t believe I forgot she was on the phone.”
Jada began to laugh, the appealing sound alleviating the awkward tension. “Leave it to Marina to let us go on like that before speaking up.”
He relaxed and couldn’t help but grin at her pleasure. “She must be a playful person.”
“That’s one way to put it, I guess. ‘Nosy’ would be more accurate.” Her smile dimmed. “I’m kind of worried about her though. The press has been after her, trying to interview her about you and me, so she’s hiding in a fleabag motel outside Springers Glen.”
“Do you think she’s in danger?”
“No, I just feel bad. It’s kind of my fault she can’t go home. But I can’t control what happens, obviously. So I’ll have to accept it, right?”
Now there was a notion Ian couldn’t begin to fathom. Accepting that he couldn’t control everything? Ridiculous. He wasn’t about to say that to Jada, though, and ruin the mood. “None of this is your fault. You didn’t cause it. My bet is that we’ll know by the end of business to
morrow exactly who or what caused this situation, and then you can put the blame where it belongs.”
“Maybe you’re right.” She scrunched up her forehead in thought. “I don’t believe that Agatha is the one who did it, by the way, not today. I was watching her earlier and realized that she’d be crowing right now if she had pulled something like this off. She’s so full of herself, she couldn’t stand not to take credit for how it’s boosting Sasha’s image.”
“Good point. Back to the drawing board, huh?”
“Nope. I’ve got a new suspect. Sasha.”
Ian cocked a brow. “I can’t see Sasha doing it.”
“Think about it. She was completely unfazed by the whole thing. Didn’t care a bit how it made her look, nothing. She was way too unconcerned. And she acted too casually when she explained to Agatha how the marriage license fiasco could be turned into a publicity boon. Almost like it was a practiced speech.”
“True, but—”
“Wait, I’m not done. I still haven’t told you her motive.”
“Which is?”
“She wants out of the closet, permanently. She came up with this whole racket as a way to convince Agatha to let her be out and proud. Remember how she sold it? She said they could claim that your betrayal turned her permanently off of men and made her a lesbian. Agatha saw dollar signs as soon as Sasha gave her the right angle to sell Sasha’s sexuality. It’s pretty clever if you think about it.”
“I guess so, except I can’t see Sasha going to so much trouble. She’s kind of flighty to plan something so complicated. And I’m pretty sure she was joking. No one believes you can turn gay out of the blue anymore, do they?”
Jada frowned, cute, tiny vertical furrows forming between her brows. “Hmm. That’s a consideration. Also, there’s the whole issue of how my name got into it. Same problem with Agatha. There’s no way to explain my getting dragged into this.”
“They may have picked the town randomly and then got your name off internet yellow pages as a resident.”
“Maybe. How weird would that be? I mean, almost like we were destined to meet or something. Not that I think we have a destiny or anything ... anyway ... Sasha tops my suspect list now.”