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(Rustling.)
JAMIE:I have to ask. Do you think your dad leaving had anything to do with the pull you felt toward Don?
(Silence.)
SHAY:You’re the journalist, Jamie. You tell me.
JAMIE:Okay. I don’t see how it couldn’t have.
SHAY:Yeah, well. That would be nice, wouldn’t it? Everything tied in a neat little bow.
End of transcript.
Chapter Twenty
Two nights later, the hotel restaurant was near closing when I rested my elbows on the edge of the bar. A bartender was with me in seconds.
“Manhattan.” I handed him my card and turned to watch the servers close up, glancing at the front door and remembering what Jamie had looked like stepping through it. So different, yet so much the same. Maybe I was, too.
“Ma’am.”
I turned to find the bartender frowning. “Your card’s been declined.” He slid it over the countertop. “Do you have another?”
Cal, that motherfucker—he’d actually done it.
I picked up the card and dropped it in my purse. “No, I don’t.” I’d let my husband hold all the power like a fool.
The bartender shot me a pitying look and slid over the manhattan, the crystal glass catching like a diamond in the light. “Here. Either you’re drinking it, or I am. You look like you need it more.” His eyes ran down me. “Nice dress, by the way. Don’t see that every day. Old school.”
“Thanks.” I slugged the drink, wiping my mouth. “I mean it.”
When he turned away, I called Jamie, who answered breathlessly. “I’m just finishing a run.”
“Now?” It was nearly eleven at night. Add running in the dark to the list of things Jamie could do that I couldn’t.
“Yeah, well…my producer called.” He exhaled. “He’s not exactly thrilled I’ve spent so long up here. Thinks I’m devoting too much time to one story.”
“What’d you tell him?”
“To trust me that it was important. I’m just blowing off steam. Need me to come over earlier?”
“Actually.” I watched the servers pull long-stemmed wineglasses off the tables, balancing them between their fingers. “I need a different favor. Cal cut me off.”
The heavy rhythm of Jamie’s breathing stopped. “What does that mean?”
“It means I need to find a cheaper place to stay. Preferably free.”
“I’ll get the production company to pay your hotel bill,” he assured me. “They can book you another room, too. It probably won’t be at the River Estate. I hope that’s okay.”
I looked up at the ornate chandelier in the center of the room, its glass beads twisting slightly in the air-conditioning, raining gentle light that turned everyone soft-edged and golden.
I hoped I knew what I was doing.
“Why don’t I stay with you? Then there’s no additional cost.”
Silence stretched.
“You’re right, it’s weird. I figured we’re friends, but…if it makes you uncomfortable…”
