by Cassia Leo
“So Kitty, I was thinking that maybe you could give me some marital advice,” I begin. “I mean, I obviously am a total pushover when it comes to Logan. Do you have any tips for how to assert myself?”
Kitty smiles as she sits up straighter. “It’s not exactly rocket science. When Jason cheated on me with that little WB slut, I kicked him out of the house immediately. I even changed the locks. When it comes to cheating, he knows I have a zero tolerance policy.”
The look on Lindy’s face is priceless. She thought she probably had enough time to show Kitty the little red notebook after our spa visit. I can see the wheels turning inside her evil little mind. She had no way of knowing she was going up against the Celebrity Whisperer.
“Zero tolerance policy?” I repeat Kitty’s words with genuine curiosity. “So when Jason cheated on you with…the WB slut. I’m sorry, what’s her name again? Amanda? Or is it Samantha? I can never rem—”
Before Kitty can confirm the name of the WB slut, Lindy yanks off the towel wrapped around her head, and out falls my little red notebook.
That bitch!
I scramble to attempt to reach the notebook before Lindy, but we manage to get our hands on it at the same time. “That’s mine! Give it to me!”
“Don’t you think Kitty would want to see it first?” Lindy insists through her grunts.
“Why would Kitty want to read my private diary? Give it back!”
Kitty stands up and, with the deftness of her on-screen biker chick persona, she shoves both me and Lindy aside, so the notebook falls to the floor in front of her. She picks it up and flips it open to a random page.
“Please don’t do —” I try to protest, but Kitty cuts me off as she begins to read aloud.
“I spoke with Kitty by the pool today. She seems wary of sharing any intimate details regarding her marriage, but I’m sure the Celebrity Whisperer can get her to talk soon,” Kitty reads, then she looks up at me with the most loathsome look I’ve ever seen. “You’re a journalist?”
How could I let this happen? Not only have I compromised my integrity, I failed to see Lindy as a worthy adversary. I never once considered she could outsmart the Celebrity Whisperer. I’ve been sloppy with my work and careless with Kitty’s privacy. Not to mention I lied to Logan about Everett’s attempt to bribe me. I’m a bad journalist, a worse friend, and an awful fake wife.
“No, I’m, uh…a gossip columnist,” I reply, my shoulders slumping with defeat. “But you should keep reading, the rest of that journal entry says how I didn’t want to do this. I was basically extorted into it. I never, ever meant to violate your privacy.”
Kitty shakes her head in utter disgust. “No, you just meant to profit from it. I can’t believe I actually thought you wanted to be my friend.”
She drops the notebook onto the damp floor and leaves the sauna immediately. I retrieve the notebook and hug it against my bare breasts.
Lindy flashes me a shit-eating grin. “You must be so happy you got your scoop and you got to sleep with Logan last night,” she gloats. “Too bad you had to show your true colors. Now Logan is definitely going to lose the competition.”
I blink a few times and shake my head. “What competition?”
Lindy covers her mouth as she giggles. “You really don’t know about the competition for Jasper’s shares?” she asks, her smile widening at the confused look on my face. “You really did this for a measly $80,000 raise? Wow. You’re even more pathetic than I thought. Logan has been playing you. You’re not here to play house with Logan so you can earn a raise or get a scoop. You’re here to help Logan win majority control of Angel Investments. I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but this sham marriage, this little fling you thought was getting serious, it’s all just a game. And you’re just a pathetic little pawn.”
That sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach, that suspicion that Logan has been keeping something from me, ratchets up to full tilt. The hurt transforms inside me, coiling itself around my heart like a python. I want to cry, but I can’t. I won’t allow myself to shed a single tear for him, or any other member of the dysfunctional Pierce clan.
I force myself to smile as I slowly pull the towel off my head and reveal the phone I’ve been concealing is still recording. “I may be a pathetic little pawn, but you’re a pathetic excuse for a human being. And I still got my scoop,” I say, holding my phone up. “But you will walk away from this retreat with a pencil-dick husband who, judging by the fact this is your second time at this retreat, has never been able to satisfy you the way Logan did. I’ll make sure to send you the pink dildo I won this week with my sham marriage once I’ve finished with it. Toodles!”
“Yeah, well, Everett’s offer has been rescinded!” Lindy shouts as I exit the sauna.
I take my time doing my hair and makeup in preparation of tonight’s vow renewal. About twenty minutes before Logan is set to return from the husband’s bonding trip, I leave the suite and seek refuge in a dark corner of the hotel bar, nursing a single glass of wine as I wait for the eight p.m. ceremony. I want to be clearheaded and at the top of my game when I confront Logan.
At a few minutes past eight, I begin making my way toward the pergola in the recreation area. When I arrive, all the couples are standing in a semi-circle around Dr. Mahoe, a couple of ukulele players performing “White Sandy Beach of Hawaii” by Israel Kamakawiwo’ole, and a man in a Hawaiian shirt and khakis who appears to be holding a Bible. I assume the man is the justice of the peace who will be conducting the vow renewal ceremony.
Dr. Mahoe is explaining the importance of trust. “You have to trust that your partner will be there for you when you need a champion, trust that your partner will share their feelings with you, trust that your partner has your best interests in mind. You have to trust that your partner will fight for you and your marriage.”
As I take the steps up into pergola, Lindy and Everett appear intrigued by my presence. Kitty and Jason, on the other hand, are shooting daggers at me through their narrowed eyes. Apparently, Logan is completely unaware of what happened in the sauna today. This doesn’t surprise me, considering the brief snippet Kitty read in my notebook said nothing about Logan, and she left the sauna before Lindy and I had our verbal showdown. But the glowing smile and the optimism in his eyes catch me off guard.
I walk slowly through the half circle of couples and take my place next to Logan. Taking slow, deep breaths in through my nose and out through my mouth, I will myself to focus on the script I had planned for today. Then, I look at into his steel-gray eyes and the script is thrown out the window.
“I was worried about you when I didn’t see you in the room,” Logan says. “But obviously I had nothing to worry about. You are the single most beautiful creature on this planet.”
His words stoke the burning fury inside me.
“You want to tell me about your little competition?” I begin.
He scrunches his eyebrows in confusion as he looks around to see if anyone heard me. “What are you talking about?”
I expel a huff of laughter, but I barely lower my voice. “Don’t play dumb with me. Lindy told me all about your little competition for your father’s shares. What I want to know is when were you planning on telling me that this whole trip...everything you’ve said to me...everything was part of this sick little game... It was all a lie.”
Logan looks sideways in Lindy and Everett’s direction and his lip curls up in disgust when he sees the grins on their faces. “Look, I don’t know what Everett and Lindy have been telling you, but this was never a game for me.”
I lower my voice slightly as the band stops playing and the justice of the peace begins speaking. “Game. Competition. Sham. I don’t care what you call it. The truth is you lied to me.”
“I never lied to you. I didn’t tell you about the competition for my father’s shares because I didn’t want to put that kind of pressure on you.”
I laugh a lot louder this time. “You didn’t want to put that ki
nd of pressure on me? But you were perfectly fine basically forcing me to pretend to be married to you to save my job?”
“Excuse me?” the justice of the peace calls out to us. “Can I please have your attention over here?”
Logan and I both roll our eyes as we turn to face the same direction as the other couples. Now that we’re no longer looking at each other, the squeezing pain in my chest I felt in the steam room earlier returns with full force. I blink back tears as I take a deep breath and summon the courage to speak from my heart.
“I trusted you,” I begin, my voice breaking on the last syllable. “I believed you when you said you wouldn’t hurt me.”
“You want to talk about trust?” he replies, a note of anguish buried beneath the anger in his voice. “Everett told me today about the bribe he offered you last night. How many times did I ask you if he had offered you something while we were at dinner last night? And how many times did you refuse to tell me the truth?”
I round on him, no longer attempting to keep my voice down. “I compromised my journalistic integrity for you.”
He laughs. “Oh, I’m so sorry. I’m sure you were on a lightning-fast trajectory toward a Pulitzer for your groundbreaking work at Close-Up.”
“You think what I do is sleazy or unworthy of the great Logan Pierce’s respect? Because fucking middle-aged women to get them to sign over their shares is so much more honorable, right?”
“At least when I fuck someone in my line of work, they get the courtesy of an orgasm. When you fuck an unsuspecting celebrity, you just ruin their life. No big deal, right?”
I slide the two rings Logan gave me at the beginning of this trip off my finger and drop them at his feet. “Well, neither you nor Kitty have to worry about me writing anything about you anymore, because I quit! I quit Close-Up magazine! I quit this sham marriage! And most of all, I quit you, Logan Pierce!” I begin walking away, stopping in the center of the semi-circle. I ignore the slack-jawed stares and the sensation that my heart is breaking into a million pieces as I turn to face Logan again. “I dyed my hair blonde for you.”
Chapter 13
SOPHIE
I’m greeted with a loud chorus of “heys” from Gail, Jen, Brady, and Brady’s supermodel girlfriend as I enter the deli around the corner from my house. The smell of cured meats and fresh-baked rye bread envelop me like a warm hug. God, it feels good to be back in New York doing normal things with normal people.
Jen shoots up from her chair and throws her arms around me. “You’re alive!” she squeals, and I laugh as she crushes me in her arms. “I thought maybe you’d accidentally packed yourself inside one of those moving boxes. Ooh, you smell like coconut. What is that?”
“It’s nothing,” I say as I think of the coconut-scented toiletries I stole from the hotel suite before booking myself a flight back to New York without Logan.
My stomach tenses at the thought of him. Mostly because I can’t believe how stupid I was to allow myself to get feelings for a known womanizer, but also because there’s a small — okay, a large part of me is hoping against hope that what we shared during our last night together was real.
I’ve managed to keep myself from Googling him for the past month, since I gave my little “Brokeback” speech at the vow renewal ceremony. I’ve busied myself with the sale of my family home and the million trips I took to Goodwill to donate almost everything I own. I kept a few boxes of mementos, photos, awards, and the like. Anything else I couldn’t fit in my backpack was sold or given away with the help of Jen and Gail, my rocks.
I place my order at the counter and take my seat at the table. “So, how’s the freewheeling life of a freelancer?” I ask Jen, but it’s Brady who replies first.
“Getting laid off from Close-Up was the best thing that ever happened to me,” he says, flashing his girlfriend Elaina an adoring smile. “Working as a freelance editor is so much less stressful. Elaina and I are taking a trip to Greece next month. I haven’t taken a vacation in three years.”
Jen leans back in her chair. “I totally agree with you. I’m way happier now than I was when I was working for Close-Up. No offense, Brady. You know I love you, but that was one toxic hell-hole.”
“No offense taken. I didn't realize how much Close-Up was holding me back. All the long hours and compromising my principles… And for what? A fat end-of-year bonus? It wasn’t worth it.”
“At least you got a bonus. My last two bonuses were held back to pay down my debt to Kensington,” I reply as a girl arrives with my enormous pastrami Reuben.
Gail shakes her head as she immediately steals my pickle, as usual. “It’s a lot better now that they’re getting rid of the print division,” she chimes in with an almost guilty look on her face.
I rub her arm. “Oh, Gail. We’re not calling you toxic. We know you’ll whip that place into shape now that you’ve been promoted.”
Gail is the only one of us who is not only still working at Close-Up, she was promoted to managing editor of the lifestyle section within days of my return to New York. She’s tried to get me to chat about what happened in Hawaii, but I don’t want to taint her impression of Logan. She claims she hasn’t seen him at the office since before we left on our trip. He has since abdicated his editor-in-chief throne to a new guy who, in Gail’s words, “looks like he just popped out of his mother’s womb yesterday.”
Everybody seems to be doing better, except for me.
But that’s not for lack of effort. I started a travel blog a few weeks ago, and I’ve been building up my followers. I hope to grow the blog enough so it will eventually become a steady revenue stream while I continue traveling and freelancing. The income from freelancing and proceeds from the sale of my childhood home should keep me solvent for at least four years while I decide if I want to come back to New York or keep indulging my wanderlust.
“It’s too bad everything blew up with you and Logan before you could get that recommendation letter,” Gail says. As usual, she’s trying to steer the conversation back to Logan.
I shrug as I wipe some Russian dressing off my fingers. “I have another interview in, like, an hour. I’ve had zero luck on the last eight interviews, so I don’t suspect this one will be any different.”
Jen and Gail exchange a look as Jen shakes her head. “It would have been really nice to get that recommendation letter,” she says, rubbing my back.
“At least they were nice enough to forgive my $30,000 loan. So, now I’m free and clear to do whatever it is I want,” I say, trying to remain chipper. “Yep, whatever I want. Like get rejected for one job after another.”
Jen wraps her arm around my shoulders and gives me a gentle squeeze. “Don’t turn into a jaded old hag yet. The whole mishap with Kitty and Jason will blow over. I have a feeling things will start turning around for you very soon.”
I laugh. “Thanks. I’ll try to remember not to turn into a jaded old hag.”
“Oh, I almost forgot!” Jen declares, as she reaches into her giant tote bag and pulls out the last issue of Close-Up magazine, featuring a smiling picture of Kitty and Jason on the cover with the headline: Kitson returns from second honeymoon in good spirits. “You brought America’s sweethearts back together. Now, you can go out there and show that big, mean world what you’re made of.”
“Sure. Right after I finish stuffing my face with delicious meats.” I hold my hand up to stop her as she opens her mouth to reply. “No dick jokes, please. I can’t spit my food out on my interview outfit.”
She mimes pulling a zipper across her lips. “My lips are sealed…around Logan’s massive Magnum.”
I shove her hard and nearly do a spit-take when she almost falls out of her chair. The rest of our lunch is full of the usual laughter, but it’s bittersweet. With the sale of the house closing in a few days, I’ll be dropping off the house keys with my realtor and leaving for Japan tomorrow. I’ll finally get to release my father’s ashes in the same place we released my mother’s ashes, the place th
ey met when he was a young ensign in the Navy stationed in Okinawa.
Jen and Gail send me off on my way with bone-crushing hugs, but my body physically aches when I see Gail wiping tears.
“I’ll be back here to visit you every few months,” I assure her.
“I know. It just feels like I’m sending my kid off to college, and my Petey’s only eight. I don’t know how I’m going to deal with it when he grows up,” she replies as she takes a seat at the table again. “Just go. Go before I turn into a complete blubbering mess.”
I kiss the top of her blonde head and kiss Jen on the cheek. “I’m off to my interview. Wish me luck.”
“Good luck!” they all bellow as I walk away.
The silver fox interviewing me for the research editor position with Wired magazine has been asking me about my responsibilities at Close-Up for forty minutes straight. I almost want to ask him to please stop wasting my time if he doesn’t think I’m qualified for the job. But I continue answering his questions and he continues to regard me with amused bewilderment. Finally, as my interrogation approaches the one-hour mark, I can’t take it anymore.
“I’m sorry. I realize this is probably not going to score me any points, but if you’re not interested in hiring me for the position, can we just cut to the chase? I have to get home and finish packing. I have an early-morning flight to catch tomorrow.”
The silver fox smiles as he opens up the file on his desk and removes a single sheet of paper, sliding it across his glass desk toward me. “Your resume looks great, Sophie. And we received your recommendation letters this morning by email.”
I squint at him. “Letters?”
“Yes. I received the letter from Brady Harper, which you sent me, and another from Logan Pierce. That’s it right there.”