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“That’s what I thought.” Alan’s self-righteous tone scrapes across my skin. “Since you went rogue onThe Dallas Daily Dish, we’re using Gretchen Miles to redirect the Jax rumors. She’s covering some book event at your hotel tonight anyway.”
Jess’s release. Clenching my teeth, I grip the shit out of the metal railing.
“You and Kim will kiss and make up, give a short interview—in which you will behave as though you not only hung the full moon for her but are willing to sacrifice yourself underneath it—and plug the hell out of the show and your relationship.”
I smack my hand on the concrete wall.
“And bring Jax,” Alan shouts into the phone. “People don’t want you.”
chapter 53
Jess
Since our birthdays are a week apart, T and I celebrated together. Scenery on the observation deck of Reunion Tower (for me). Lasagna at Lombardi’s (for me). Cheesecake at La Madeleine (for T). A steamy hour in the Camaro (for T) (Okay, and me)
~ from the diary of Elizabeth Sara Thorne (age 17!!!)
After Dad leaves, I don’t know how long I space out waiting for Gabe in the chair by the window. Long enough for the lights on Reunion Tower to blur in and out of my peripheral vision against the stormy afternoon. Long enough for my legs to cramp.
When I can’t sit anymore, I stand and grab my phone, automatically navigating to Mom’s bookmarked page. She’s put up a new profile pic of her in a Santa apron. She’s baked Christmas cookies in October. Our thing. My hands tighten on my cell. Something I loved so much I used it in a scene inHaunted, imagining Mom got the idea from T, who loved to cook. Another fantasy. In real life, Dad won’t even boil water. What the heck happened there?
A muffled noise from next door yanks me out of my daze.
Is Vi still there? How much did she hear? I push on the adjoining door, wishing I could rewind to before Vi breezed into Dad’s life behind my back and settled in.
The nightstand lamp’s on, and she’s perched on my bed next to my laptop, the diary on top of her thighs. Open.
A sharp prickle skips along the back of my neck. “That’s private.”
I rush to grab it, but she stands and holds it over her head. “You turned your mom’s diary intoHaunted?”
I can’t breathe.
“You did or didn’t stealthisstory?” Shoving the diary in front of my face, she taps the page where she opened to the middle.
Prickles surge over my skin.
“Jess!” Tossing the diary on the bed without closing it, she snaps her fingers.
I jump. “Yes.”
“And this?” She flips up the top of my laptop and spins the screen toward me. Pulled up is the empty document labeledJess’s Sucky Second Book.
All I can do is look at her while I break out into what feels like hives with stingers.
“Tell me you have the book you’re supposed to give Julie Ann tonight.” Her voice goes deadly quiet.
I shake my head no, everything I want to say jumbling in my head like dyslexic letters.
“What were you thinking?” Shock shoots across her face. “Do you have any idea the position you put me in?” She slams my laptop closed and tosses it on the bed next to the diary, catching and ripping one of the pages.
I feel that tear along the wall of my chest.
“When I took you on, when I pitched ateen authorand got you an early release date, did you think it was an easy sell?” She’s in my face, eyes flashing like flares. “It wasn’t. I had to cosign your ass withmyprofessional reputation.”
I back up, my breath burning to the bottom of my lungs.
“Three weeks ago, you told me you were polishing pages.” The edges of her lips pale around her cherry lipstain.
