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“So … what’s the deal for real? We know he was fired.”
“How the hell do you know that?” I question and my tone is harsher than I anticipated. Trish’s widened eyes are evidence that she’s taken aback. “Sorry,” I whisper and lean forward, snatching another bite from the plates.
“Is it serious?” Kelly asks, choosing a few pieces of deliciousness and sorting them on her small plate.
“How can it be if he doesn’t even have a job?” Trish says, piling on.
I don’t consider Trish’s sentiment emotionally, only logically when I answer, “He has income and it’s not like I’m after anyone for their money.”
Trish doesn’t bother hiding that she’s staring, lifting the martini glass to her lips.
“Well, honey,” Kelly says and tilts her head, reaching for a spring roll, taking her time to dip it in the accompanying sauce, not looking me in the eye, “it’s not his money that we’d be worried about.”
There’s a bit of a chill in the air all of a sudden. “How did you know he was fired?”
“You know how people talk.”
“Well, what else are people saying?”
Trish answers first. “That he’s broke but into you.”
Broke. In social circles, the word broke is blood in the water. “How broke?”
“Just not … not someone who could afford your lifestyle.” Chewing the inside of my cheek, I let her comment sink in. I’ve never really cared to talk about money. There’s a knot of guilt that twists in my stomach when I consider the hand I was dealt. I was born into wealth and then everything was left to me when my father was buried and I was only sixteen years old. The cherry on top is that Kam took over everything, keeping me safe, wealthy, and guiding me through a chaotic world of parasites who were after any cent they could suck from me.
I settle on a simple truth. “I hadn’t thought much of it.”
“I mean it’s not like you need Mr. Moneybags, but it’s just something to consider.” Her tone reflects the high society’s guide to staying elite. In other words, don’t marry someone who could be after your money.
“I don’t plan on ever getting married again.” I decide on another comment to keep my friends, as well as the rumor mills, away from the subject of Zander’s bank account. “We’re fucking and enjoying each other’s company. But this bill,” I say and gesture to the meal. “He’s paying for it and for all the nights we’ve been out.”
As Trish’s expression turns concerned, Kelly states she’s getting this tab since Trish got the last.
“How?” she asks bluntly and is rewarded with a jab in her ribs from Kelly’s elbow.
“Ouch!”
“The fuck is wrong with you,” Kelly hisses in a murmur.
I can only laugh, although that sick feeling remains. Before I can answer Trish, she changes the subject.
“There are other rumors too. Like Kam isn’t really your conservator and it’s a cover-up. You went to rehab.”
I don’t say a word, but my eyes are locked on Trish’s. “Don’t worry, my love, there are so many rumors no one knows what’s really going on … but the biggest rumor is that you tried drinking and fucking your way through mourning, and it ended up with a rehab hangover.”
“Your social being quiet since you came back is throwing people off, though.” Kelly’s comment once again holds a tone. She’s good at saying things without actually saying them. The hidden message: I better start posting and filling people in so they stop talking.
“You haven’t seen anything, have you?” Kelly asks and Trish answers, “We know Kam isn’t showing you the articles. But trust us, it’s a good angle.”
“What are most people saying?”
“You took a trip down to a private resort. A few do think you went to drug rehab. No one really believes the conservatorship is real. There’s a seal on it and since Kam knows the judge and Kam’s been telling everyone to mind their damn business and let you enjoy some sunshine … really people are just wondering if you’re mad at them. You’ve never been quiet before and most people miss you.”
“It’s just us who know, right?” Trish questions although I’m sure Kam has filled her in.
I nod.
“And what about that hunk over there?” Kelly asks.
Peeking over my shoulder, I catch sight of Zander just as he was glancing at me. Butterflies stir and when he winks at me, I blush violently. It’s a sin what this man does to me.
With a simper I tell them, “He’s my secret. Anything else out there is PR.”
Kelly questions, “So the bit about him getting fired because you were fucking?”
I laugh into my drink, some cucumber mocktail the waitress whipped up. “Well, sometimes PR does reflect the truth.”
“Mostly people are just happy to see you back and happy that you might be seeing someone else. Like, that’s the chatter. You’re back from wherever, you’re sober.” She looks at her mocktail and playfully clinks it with mine. “And that you’re fucking around again and causing all sorts of problems with your security team that you hired to keep people the hell out of your life.”
