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Sasha blew out a loud breath and dropped bonelessly into her chair. She spoke to Jada in a confidential tone, as if everyone in the entire room couldn’t hear her. “Agatha is upset because she doesn’t want it getting around that I’m a lesbian.”
Chapter Two
JADA DOWNED THE LAST OF her wine in one gulp. Elly nearly dropped the plate she was holding, but Ian rescued her by grabbing it out of her hand in the nick of time. Having already served Jada, Elly snatched up her tray and rushed from the room.
Agatha’s face turned so red Jada feared the older woman might pop a vessel in her sinewy neck. “That’s not funny, Sasha! You shouldn’t joke about that. People might believe you.”
Having finished off Jada’s salad, Sasha gave Jada’s plate of steaming mussels a covetous look. “I wish they would. Do you believe I’m gay, Mrs. Buckley? Jada?”
Jada swiveled her head toward Sasha, fast enough to make her slightly dizzy. Jada squinted and wondered why Sasha was moving around so much. She should sit still so people could talk to her properly. “Should I believe it?”
“Yes,” Sasha said.
At the same time, Agatha replied, “No!”
Ian mumbled, “Damn, I forgot to ask for another bottle.” He went over to a com unit on the wall.
“Then I will,” Jada said. Upon seeing Agatha turn an alarming shade of burgundy, Jada added, “I mean, I won’t. I don’t believe it.”
“I’ve had the best idea,” Sasha said, clapping her hands. “This is the perfect time for me to come out. Think about it. We can blame it all on Ian. Can’t you see how to spin it, Agatha? Poor Sasha, heart broken by billionaire playboy’s desertion, finds passionate cure in the arms of ... wait for it ...” she waved her slim hand in the air as if revealing a marquee “... in the arms of another woman. Gasp! I’ll give lots of interviews about how I can’t trust men anymore and how I only feel safe with women, blah blah blah.”
Jada thought she must be kidding, or demented. When the supermodel reached out and, quick like a bunny, snatched a mussel from Jada’s plate, hid it in her lap then looked up to the ceiling as if she hadn’t done it, Jada decided Sasha was definitely demented.
Agatha, meanwhile, contemplated Sasha’s suggestion. Her high color faded. “That’s not a bad idea. You could be onto something.” She pulled out her phone, a heavily-rhinestoned affair, and worked it with thumbs as agile and quick as a teenager’s.
Jada felt like someone needed to be the voice of reason in the room, and since no one else was stepping up, she guessed the task was left to her. “That’s ridiculous. It doesn’t work that way. Work that way. Work this way? Isn’t that a song? No? Yeah. I think it’s a song about being a lesbian.”
Ian returned to his chair. “You’re thinking of ‘The Way We Were.’ And it’s definitely not a song about lesbians.”
“Nope, nope, nope,” Jada said, rocking slightly and enjoying the way the candlelight flickered on the gold filigree trimming her china plate. “Work this way. Baby we should work this way. That’s it. A singer sings it.”
Sasha laughed, a deep, throaty sound. “You’re thinking of ‘Born This Way.’ Lady Gaga.”
Jada pointed at her. “That’s it! Exactly. The lesbian song. Lesbians are born, not made by players like Ian Buckley.”
“Damn, Ian,” Sasha said. “How much wine has she had, anyway?”
“Three glasses, I think,” he said.
At the same time, Jada answered, “Not enough.”
Sasha snatched another mussel off Jada’s plate. “You wouldn’t think three glasses would be enough, but it’s looking like it is.”
“Nope, nope,” Jada said.
“In her defense, she hasn’t eaten much today,” Ian said. “And someone is stealing her dinner, which isn’t helping.”
Sasha pried the meat out of the mussel and popped it in her mouth. “It’s not my fault. It’s like taking candy from a baby.”
“Something else I’ve seen you do.”
Sasha only smiled.
Jada couldn’t take her eyes off the madly-texting Agatha. Her thumbs moved so fast it was mesmerizing. “Stop her, Sasha. She’s probably telling everyone about your stupid idea.”
Sasha barked a laugh. “I like you, Mrs. Buckley.”
“I guess I like you, too. But I don’t want to. Makes me feel even worse about kissing him.”
“Oh, you two kissed, did you?” Sasha raised her perfectly-shaped eyebrows. “Ian? Have you been kissing your pretend wife while you were pretend-engaged to me?”
“As far as I know, Jada actually is my wife, legally anyway,” Ian answered.
Jada whispered loud enough that someone in the hall could have heard her. “I feel bad about it. Because I’m a man-sealing harlot. Wait. That’s not right. Heehee! I mean, stealing. I steal men, I don’t seal them. Heehee!”
“You look pretty straight-laced for a harlot,” Sasha said. “And you shouldn’t listen to anything Agatha says. She hasn’t made sense in like forever.”
“That’s too bad.”
Sasha nibbled on Jada’s garnish. “Yeah. I’d fire her if she weren’t my mother.”
Jada goggled at her. Then at Agatha. Then at Ian.
Her mother?
She pushed her chair back and struggled to her feet. She was going to pitch her napkin down on the table to illustrate her disgust, but she couldn’t find it. Had it fallen to the floor? What was she doing, anyway?
She remembered and glared around the table. “That’s it. I’m leaving. You’re all fruity ... like cakes. Fruitcake. And I don’t like fruitcake. I have no idea why anyone would eat it.” She turned to make a dramatic exit, but stumbled slightly on her way to the door. “Oops!”
Ian rushed up behind her and steadied her with a hand on her waist and another on her arm. “I’m sorry, Jada. I should have gotten you out of here sooner. I think I’ve had a bit much myself. I’ll help you upstairs.”
“Nope nope nope. You’re all nutty. Like ... well, not like nut-cake, because that would be even grosser than fruitcake, and it’s probably not even a thing.”
Sasha called from behind as Ian led Jada from the dining room. “If it makes you feel any better, I was kidding about your marriage turning me gay. I’ve always been gay.”
Agatha cried out in outrage. “Why don’t you shout it from the rooftops? Are you—”
Jada blocked out the arguing mother and daughter as Ian guided Jada toward the grand staircase.
She pulled on Ian’s arm and stopped him at the foot of the stairs. He was so tall, and handsome, and ridiculously rich and successful. She really did have fun with him and had enjoyed fantasizing about him.
Too bad he was crazy. She wondered if all super-wealthy people were insane. She’d never know, since she’d never ask. She was way too polite, unlike some people in this place.
“ARE ALL RICH PEOPLE CRAZY?” Jada asked.
Ian finished giving Elly instructions over the intercom then guided Jada to a chair in her bedroom. She thumped down on the cushion hard enough to bounce then looked up at him, her beautiful dark eyes sparkling.
Jada’s question amused Ian. “Seems that way, doesn’t it?”
She peered around the room. “I don’t see Ms. Kitty.”
“I’ll send someone to find her.”
“No, she’s probably getting another massage, or down in the kitchen or who knows what. That cat has settled fast into the good life, let me tell you. She got a massage and I still haven’t.”
Ian sat down on the settee. “That doesn’t seem right.”
“Yeah, but it’s okay. She’s a good cat. I love her.”
Ian warmed to Jada’s sincere expression. His grandfather used to say that alcohol revealed a person’s true nature. Ian hadn’t been convinced of it, but if his grandfather were correct, then Jada was purely adorable.
“You know,” Jada said, “I feel bad about one thing, though.”
“What’s that?”
“About kissing y
ou.”
Ian felt a pang in his chest. “I wish you wouldn’t. It was only a kiss. And you have to realize by now that I wasn’t actually dating Sasha. It was a deal we made a while back.”
The corners of her mouth drooped. “Yeah, but I didn’t know that when we kissed.”
“It was nothing, Jada. You did nothing wrong.”
“I don’t know.”
“I do. I have no idea if you’ll remember this tomorrow, but here’s the whole truth about Sasha. She’s the younger half-sister of one of my best friends, Trey. He told me that Agatha was riding Sasha hard about being a lesbian, and asked me if I’d be Sasha’s beard, basically. We sat down with Agatha and worked out the details, how often Sasha and I would be seen together, where, and so on.”
“Huh. Did Agatha get off her back then?”
“She did. As long as the press was convinced Sasha was straight, Agatha didn’t complain anymore. Agatha’s not a homophobe, so much as convinced Sasha’s sexuality might hurt her career.”
