by Amy Brent
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 approve. 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.
“Press conference?” she asked.
“Yeah, he gave a whole thing or whatever. That’s not the point. The point is, I fucked up. Not Mason. I was the one who laid down the condition, he double-checked if it was something I wanted to do, and I confirmed. If anything, you should take his calls. He was just going along for the ride,” I said.
“It’s shady of you to lie like this. I-we’ve known each other for years, Sarah. I cried over that fucker for months because he kept blowing me off, and you’re blowing him?”
“Watch it,” I said. “Even best friends have lines.”
“Do best friends fuck their friend’s brothers?” she asked.
“Sometimes, yes,” I said, grinning.
“Seriously? You’re cracking jokes right now?”
“What the hell am I supposed to do? You’re angry beyond belief, and I don’t know what to do about it.”
“Don’t lie anymore, Sarah. That’s what you do about it.”
“Fine! Then what do you want to know?” I asked.
“Why the hell didn’t you tell me the two of you started seeing one another again? You told me shit didn’t work out and then what? Were those phone calls all throughout that dinner him?”
&n
bsp; “Yes,” I said.
“So, he just kept fucking pestering you like a petulant toddler?”
“A petulant toddler?” I asked, grinning.
“Sarah, not only did you lie about seeing him, you lied about meeting him. Wednesday was a fucking game for you both. I have every reason to be angry over that. At both of you.”
“Yes. Yes you do,” I said. “But I technically didn’t lie about the whole ‘we stopped seeing each other’ thing. It just never came back up in conversation that we were seeing one another again.”
“Are you actually gonna split hairs on this thing? You’re at fault. You both are. End of story.”
“Well if you didn’t try to control who I dated, then maybe I would’ve told you sooner,” I said.
“What the hell’s that supposed to mean?” she asked.
“It was your fucking idea for me to date Ryan! He was a blind date you set me up on because you thought we would be so perfect together,” I said.
“It’s not my fault he was sucking face with your co-host or whatever,” she said.
“And the blind date before that, what was his name? Eric? Yeah, the guy I dated for, like, three weeks before I saw him out with that fun little busty blonde in the middle of downtown Dallas. Thank fuck I hadn’t gone public with that one yet.”
“All I did was set you up on those dates. They seemed like decent enough men—”
“Every time we talk about my dating life, you make it sound like I’ve picked these guys. And sure, I picked the one in high school, and he was a real fucking piece of shit work. I got it. But you’ve set me up on five blind dates. One of them came out of the closet shortly after, two still lived with their parents, and the other two I dated fucking cheated on me.”
“Well, maybe there isn’t something wrong with my choices. Maybe there’s just something wrong with you!”
I sat there for a long while simply staring at my best friend. I allowed the words to soak into my head as I watched her face drop. It was like I’d been sucked into a vacuum. All I could hear was the whirring of her air conditioning kick on as her lips moved. There were no words. No sounds. Just me, my thoughts, and the words that had flown from her mouth.
Maybe there’s just something wrong with you.
“Sarah, I didn’t mean that,” she said.
I got up from the couch. I felt my face paling with every step I took toward the door. I felt the walls closing in as tears rose to my eyes, and all I wanted to do was get back to the safety of my apartment.
“Sarah, please. Please don’t leave,” she said.
I felt her grab my hand, and I yanked it out with a fury. I whipped around, my watery gaze connecting with hers as tears promptly flowed down her cheeks. I knew she had a right to be angry with me. Angry at both of us. I knew she had a right to dodge our phone calls, so she could have time to process everything. I knew she needed space to breathe and digest everything that was going on around her.
But she sure as hell didn’t have the right to say that.
“I’m sorry. Sarah, don’t go. Sarah please!”
I walked out the door and found my way to my car. I don’t know how I got home, I don’t know how in the world I fucking operated my car, but I didn’t come out of my shocked reverie until I was pushing my apartment door open into the only space in my life I felt was really, truly mine.
Then, I dropped to my knees and sobbed.
Chapter 28
Mason
All day and all night I had my eyes glued to the media. They kept replaying my press conference over and over again like it was some grand piece of art. Emma still wasn’t taking my calls, but now neither was Sarah. She sent me a text message saying she went to speak with Emma, but that was it.
At least she hadn’t written me out altogether.
The media was completely divided. Some were happy for me and saying we had a real relationship going on, which was false. I rolled my eyes and groaned, thinking about how easy it was to trick people into thinking two individuals were going hot and heavy or some bullshit. Sarah and I weren’t in a relationship. Not even close. I just wanted them to stop fucking calling her some bullshit word like hypocrite. She wasn’t a hypocrite. She was an attractive, successful, independent, rich, virile woman.
What the fuck was wrong with that?
They kept chirping on about how cute we looked and how happy she seemed. They praised me for bringing her out of her shell ever since the debacle with her ex. They kept fucking flashing pictures of her ex sucking face with her co-host, and all I could do was groan and hope to fuck Sarah wasn’t watching the news. She’d be so pissed they were dredging up all this stuff while trying to praise a relationship she wasn’t in.
The other half of the media was correct that we weren’t in a real relationship. But they were calling me a pig for it. A pig! Why the fuck am I the pig because I want to spoil and bang the hottest woman in Dallas? It’s not like she didn’t agree to it. It’s not like she wasn’t having fun. They were saying things like ‘I’m just taking her along for a ride’ and ‘she’ll end up like my other conquests.’ What was that supposed to mean, ‘my other conquests’? My other hookups went on to find the men of their dreams. All the women I dated once or twice would hook up with men who married their asses after me.
I fucking bolstered them into their long-term relationships. I was a professional stepping stone who set the bar for those women in their lives. After me, they knew what they deserved and how they should be treated, and it formed foundations that found them what they really wanted.
Forever love and all that shit.
Report after report after report came coming in. Some media outlets were dissecting my relationships while others were dissecting hers. It was disgusting if you asked me, and I was worried about Sarah. Sure, we weren’t in a real relationship or whatever. But I knew this was hurting her and her best friend.
My sister.
I needed to try and call Emma again now that we’d all had a chance to sleep on things.
But even when I cut off the television, Tony kept texting me headlines for all sorts of bullshit and asking me if I’d talked with Sarah. He wouldn’t fucking leave me alone, and it was like he knew I’d cut off my only source of news. There were a couple of press mongers still hanging around my house, but they left once they realized I wasn’t coming out anytime soon. I shut the blinds and raked my hand through my hair, feeling stressed all the way to my bones.
I needed to get away, and I wanted her to come with me.
I picked up my phone and dialed Sarah’s number immediately. The phone rang and rang, and I almost hung up and called right back. But just before her answering machine took over, I heard a click on the other end of the line.
A click, and then a sniffle.
Shit. Sarah wasn’t doing well, and that tugged at something deep within my chest.
“Hello?” she asked.
“Do you want to get away with me?”
“What?” she asked.
“No questions asked. Just one day of getting away from all this bullshit and all the press and all the media and just existing? Just one day?”
There was silence, and I was hanging onto her every breath. I could hear her thinking, if there was ever such a thing. My hands were shaking and everything inside of me screamed for her to say yes. I wanted her to come away with me desperately. I wanted to wipe the tears from her eyes. I wanted to put a smile on her face and clear her mind if only for a little while.
I wanted to lose myself in her more desperately than I had realized, and I honestly wasn’t sure how I felt about that.
“Okay,” she finally said.
“Okay? So… you’ll come? With me?”
“Yes. But I don’t know how to get to you. The press is all lined up outside of my complex,” she said.
“Don’t worry, I’ve got a plan. I’m going to come for you in my black convertible. The windows are completely tinted. Put yourself in a costume, pack a larg
e purse with a change of clothes and a few of your toiletries, and go out the back of your complex. Walk down one block to that colorful coffee shop, and I’ll pick you up out back in thirty minutes. Okay?”
“Okay. I’ll go get changed now,” she said.
I packed a change of clothes in a small bag and tossed my toiletries in. I hopped into my car and rolled up the windows before I put my sunglasses on. I cruised into town, searching in my rearview mirror for any signs that someone was following me. I circled downtown twice, driving the speed limit and doing everything I needed to before I pulled into the back of the coffee shop.
I didn’t even recognize her until she dropped down into the seat and closed the door.
She was wearing a pair of black leggings and a brown oversized sweater. She had on sunglasses, a broadly-brimmed hat that hid her face in the shadows, and a cream-colored purse stuffed full of clothes.
“Just in case you want to make it two days,” she said, sighing.
I buzzed out of the coffee shop, and we used the backroads until we hit the highway. We drove and we drove until the city was thirty minutes behind us, then finally Sarah unwound herself from her clothes. She tossed her hat into the back and rolled up her sleeves, and the moment she took off her sunglasses, I saw how reddened her eyes were.