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Rehab? What the fuck was he talking about? I was sitting right here on my sofa.
“The tabloids say you’ve checked into Sunsets Malibu,” said Jim, referring to an out-patient facility famous for patients like Charlie Sheen and assorted reality TV stars. What the fuck? But Jim continued.
“That’s what the American public likes,” he chortled. “A nice comeback tale, complete with forgiveness for the damned. And you, my boy, are taking the first step to climbing out of your shithole life.”
Where the fuck was this coming from?
“Jim, I’m sitting in my living room right now. I think I’d know if I was in rehab,” I said sarcastically.
“Well, credit your stepsister for turning your reputation around then,” he replied. “Because Janie went live with your story. She said you were going into rehab for your internet addiction. Plus, she announced that you’re dating, so the business with that transgender woman is pretty much solved,” he added helpfully.
I sat bolt upright in my lounger. Janie had a part in this? She’d revealed our secret?
Hanging up abruptly, I frantically searched my phone for news. And there it was. An article on TMZ laid it all out. Janie spoke to the publication about how she’d done an intervention, how we were in love, and how I was going off to rehab for “a new beginning” to “turn things around.”
That was all the press needed to hear, and now Vanity was yesterday’s news. The American public loves nothing more than a redemption story, and besides, who cared about the fact that I may or may not have flirted with a transwoman? Instead, the new headline was even sexier because now, I was in a relationship with my stepsister. People must have been gobbling this up like candy.
But why? Why would Janie mastermind my comeback like a PR pro? Why would she do this while exposing herself?
Suddenly, the front door opened silently and there stood the girl herself, backlit by sunshine. I couldn’t see her very well, but I could smell her sweet perfume in the air and immediately, my senses went into overdrive.
“Janie,” I growled, staring at the vision. “Is it true? Did you go public with our relationship? I thought you hated me,” I said in a choked voice. “And that you didn’t want anything to do with me anymore.”
“Yes, Mason,” she replied slowly, putting her purse down. Oh God, she looked beautiful with that curly blonde hair framing her cheeks, those pouty lips pink and kissable.
But I forced myself to focus.
“Why did you do it?” I growled. “You thought I cheated on you.”
She paused for a moment before holding up a pink hardback book.
“Because I got all my answers from this,” she said. I squinted. I’ve seen the book around and it’d disgusted me. There was no reason to read Vanity’s lies.
But Janie continued.
“Vanity’s delusional, and it’s clear from her writing. She said you were a junk food addict, that you were making porn together, and most of all,” – she paused here – “that you were doping while training for the Olympics. It was crazy.”
I sat frozen, stunned by the turn of events. Why would the transwoman say those things? Clearly, she wanted to extend her five minutes of fame. Still, these claims only discredited her because now it was painfully obvious that she was filled with lies.
“But Janie,” I said slowly, “why didn’t you believe me when I told you there was nothing between Vanity and me? That hurt.” I had a pained expression on my face and my body was tense as I waited for the answer.
My stepsister took a deep breath, her bosom rising visibly, her full lips trembling for a moment.
“Mason, I wanted to, but there were just too many things hitting me at once. The fact that I was in a secret relationship with my stepbrother. This whole dating a transgender woman. Even if you never met in person, it hurt when I realized you were using Matchy to chat with random women. I was sleeping with you, Mace, and you were up nights checking out other women’s profiles?” she asked, getting teary.
I felt a rush of shame as my chest constricted, my breathing going shallow. I despised myself in that moment.
“I know,” I said slowly. “Everything you said is true. I guess I just got caught up in the moment because I was living in a cage. I was living a very restricted life, so Matchy became my release. I figured it was harmless because I’d never actually meet someone in real life.”
“But why?” Janie asked slowly, her blue eyes looking at me with apprehension. “Why did you need to keep looking if I was there?”
Shit, this was the million dollar question, and unfortunately, there were no right answers.
“Baby,” I said slowly, “I’m not sure why. I obviously had an addiction of sorts. It’s the way some people have a gambling addiction or an addiction to porn. I’m not saying that I have that,” I added hurriedly, “but there’s something like that in my head. I was addicted to the rush of seeing all these profiles, and I didn’t put down my phone when I should have.”
