Total pages in book: 98
Estimated words: 92972 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 465(@200wpm)___ 372(@250wpm)___ 310(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92972 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 465(@200wpm)___ 372(@250wpm)___ 310(@300wpm)
I exhale with a wince. “Fuck. Fuck! My poor sister, Blue. All I want to do is protect her from this monster, but I honestly… I don’t know how. I don’t know how to fight something like this. All the lies and manipulation and—”
“Just go home,” Blue cuts in firmly. “Go home, make sure Charlotte and Beatrice know they’re not alone, and the paparazzi know they won’t be allowed to bully them. There are already vans outside Charlotte’s house. I saw it on the NOLA news social page.”
I curse. Colorfully enough to draw a raised eyebrow in the mirror from the driver.
“Sorry,” I mutter, sinking lower in my seat.
I have to hold it together. For all I know, this guy could be selling gossip to TMZ.
But fuck…
My sweet, classy, private Charlotte. Her quiet life. Her garden. Her peace. The reputation I was supposed to be helping improve after the public dissing from her ex. All of it is about to be trampled by a media circus because she decided to date me for real.
“What about what we know?” I ask, dropping my voice to a whisper. “About Nebraska and what Kai did when he was Henry James Killian? Is there any way I can arrange to ‘find out’ about that without the police knowing I went digging down an illegal rabbit hole on the dark web?”
“No. The information isn’t publicly available,” Blue says. “Not even on any gossip or blind item sites. Even if it were, it’s a sealed juvenile record. The press can’t legally print it without verification, and the courts won’t unseal it. It will look like a smear campaign. It muddies the water, but it doesn’t clear your name. It just adds to the noise. And the more noise there is leading up to a resolution, the more likely no one will believe the truth when it comes out. You have to be careful. Thoughtful.”
I drag a hand down my face, still sticky from my workout and my stress response in that fucking office. “I agree, but I can’t do nothing. I have to hit back. At least enough to let him and everyone else know I reject his account entirely and intend to prove he’s lying.”
“I have an idea,” he says. “Let me work on something while you get home and make sure everything is okay there. I have the day free aside from travel this afternoon. Hopefully, I’ll have good news for you by this evening.”
“Thank you,” I say, guilt prickling at the back of my neck. “But you don’t have to do this, you know. This isn’t your fight.”
“The Voodoo needs you,” Blue says. “And you’re my friend. So is Beatrice. I’m not the kind of person who lets friends fight alone.”
Touched, I nod. “Thanks. I appreciate this, Blue. Really.”
“I’ll text as soon as I have news,” he says. “Take care of her. And yourself.”
We end the call, and I lean my head back against the headrest, staring up at the gray morning sky. I hate this. I hate every second of this fucking…restraint. I hate being forced to be the calmer, better person while Kai’s lies spread.
But this is the ultimate test for the “new man” I was just thinking I was proud to be. If I can make it through an injustice like this, one that attacks my family, my career, my reputation, and everything I hold dear, then…
Well, then, I might be ready to go to a Zen retreat with Blue next summer. Maybe we can bring Charlotte and Beatrice, make a “get out of NOLA and find inner peace” week of it in Tibet or something.
The hour until my flight takes off passes like an hour in purgatory, and the plane flight is the longest direct flight in memory. By the time the car service turns into Charlotte’s neighborhood, I’m practically crawling out of my skin with the need to be with them.
Now.
Then, the car takes the right into Charlotte’s cul-de-sac, where two news vans and several unfamiliar cars are parked, and reporters mill about at the end of the driveway, and I suddenly wish the trip had taken longer.
Am I ready to pass through that flock of vultures without losing my shit and playing right into Kai’s hands?
Guess we’re about to find out.
Twenty-Two
CHARLOTTE
I’ve never felt as trapped as I do right now, especially not in my own home.
My home is my safe place, a lush, cozy sanctuary, a monument to “this sister did it by herself.” I bought, renovated, decorated, and upgraded every inch of my three-bedroom bungalow with my own money and my own hands. It’s a place where I usually feel held and proud of all I’ve accomplished.
Now, I feel like a rat in a trap, waiting for the catcher to come collect his prey.
I always suspected that fame was overrated. Now, I know for sure.