“I didn’t convince Freya of anything,” Sasha interrupted. “Whatever we did, we did together.”
“Thanks for clarifying that.” A sense of satisfaction swelled inside Jada. “So you both worked out a plan to solve your problem. You were going to drive all the way to Iowa and get married. Afterward, you planned to leak a copy of the marriage license to the press so they’d out you to the world. That was what you decided to do, right?”
Sasha was up against it, and everyone but Trey knew it.
Jada could almost see the gears grinding in Sasha’s head. She picked crumbs off her shirt as a ploy to buy time.
“That was the plan, right?” Jada prompted.
Sasha shrugged. “I don’t remember. Something like that. We were drunk. You say and do all sorts of stupid crap when you’re drunk.”
“And yet,” Jada continued, “you went on the road trip anyway. You didn’t make it far, though. Freya said you stopped the first night at a charming little bed and breakfast in a small town right outside the city. What small town was that, Sasha?”
She shrugged again. “No idea. You know how we lesbians are about bed and breakfasts. Can’t resist ’em.”
“Freya remembered the name of the town, Sasha. It was Springers Glen. Ring a bell?”
She didn’t look up, simply kept running her fingertip along the hem of her shorts. No answer.
“It’s been all over the news lately,” Jada continued. “Springers Glen is my hometown. Remember? No? That’s okay. Freya says you spent a couple of nights there, that every time you headed out in your car, you passed another cute bed and breakfast and had to try that one out. You must not be kidding about the allure of B&Bs.”
Sasha’s posture went from boneless wilt to bone stiff. “That’s probably right. Can’t be sure. The days run together when you’re having a good time, you know?”
“I do,” Jada said. “Eventually, good time or not, you two decided it was a long drive to Iowa, and at the rate you were traveling, it’d take you a year to get there. Freya said you created a second plan to out yourself, one where you didn’t actually have to get married. You decided that a fake marriage would work as well as a real one. You went so far as to use the B&B’s computer to print a fake marriage license off the internet. You even filled it out.”
“We were drunk,” was all Sasha would say, her go-to excuse. “You remember how it goes when you’re drinking, don’t you Jada? The first night I met you, you called yourself a man-sealing harlot. Ha!” Her laugh was hollow and forced.
Trey leaned forward, concerned. Jada wondered how much longer it would take before he realized the truth.
Jada ignored Sasha’s jab. “Freya talked a lot about how drunk you both were. She also said that when she finally sobered up in the wee hours of the morning, last Wednesday, she realized your scheme was probably illegal, and she didn’t want any part of it. So she wrote you a Dear Jane letter, packed up and skipped town ... in your car.”
“It never works out,” Sasha said. “None of my relationships. And Freya didn’t even care enough to wake me up and tell me to my face.”
There it was. Some honest emotion, finally. “For what it’s worth,” Jada said, “Freya told Marina that she feels badly about how she handled it. She wants to apologize but you won’t return her calls or texts.”
“Screw her,” Sasha said. “I don’t need it. I don’t need anybody.”
“Even me?” Trey asked.
Sasha didn’t answer, her beautiful face frozen in defiance. She stared at the door. Jada wondered if she was contemplating escape. Probably not. Everyone in the room knew there was no escaping now.
“I’m sorry she hurt you,” Ian said. “But it doesn’t excuse what you did.”
Her response was clipped. “I know.”
“What did you do, Sasha?” Trey asked. “This is sounding like ... talk to me. Tell me what you’ve done.”
Sasha’s mouth tightened and she crossed her arms over her chest.
“You might as well tell him,” Ian said. “Better it come from you than us.”
“Confession is good for the soul,” Jada said. “That’s what my grandmother used to say.”
Sasha whirled on Jada, her blonde curls swinging wide. “What do you know about it? When have you ever had to live a life that was less than normal, less than perfect? You and your best-friend sister, your perfect parents and storybook home town. What do you know about being on the fringe? Has anyone ever disapproved of you just for being who you were? I think no. Don’t talk to me about confession, not when the worst thing you’ve ever had to confess was skipping Sunday School so you could go to a Save the Puppies rally instead.”
Whoa. Jada felt blown backward ten feet.
“This isn’t about Jada,” Ian said, obviously angry. “Don’t turn this into—”
“That’s okay,” Jada interrupted. “She can say what she wants. You think I deserve what happened to me, is that it, Sasha? I had it coming because I have a past that you’ve idealized? That makes it all okay? Well, good for you. You never have to feel bad about a damned thing. I’m the villain. Piper’s the villain. Freya’s the villain. And you’re the long-suffering, misunderstood hero. Good for you.”
Sasha glared at her. “Fighting back? Guess I hit a nerve. Miss Perfectly Normal has a weak spot after all.”
“Shut up, Sasha.” Trey’s voice echoed in the high-ceilinged room. “Shut the hell up.”
The model’s smooth skin blanched. She kept her chin high, though, when she looked at her brother. “I’d love to. I never wanted to talk about this in the first place.”
“You know what I mean,” Trey said. “Leave Jada alone. It’s not about her. It’s not about Ian, either. This has become all about you and me now because I’m putting this together and I can’t believe what I’m coming up with.”
Sasha took a shuddering breath, but said nothing.
“I want the whole story, everything that happened,” Trey said. “And if you value me as your brother, tell it straight. Quit acting like you’re above everything. I’ve never bought that anyway. News flash, I know you have feelings. Now tell me what you did.”
A long look passed between the two. Some of the hardness in Sasha’s eyes faded. Her pride, however, never faltered. This was fine with Jada. She wasn’t there to browbeat Sasha. She just wanted the truth.
Sasha regarded each of them in turn, stopping on her brother. “I didn’t mean for any of this to happen. It snowballed and got away from me.”
Trey nodded encouragement.
“It was hard,” Sasha continued, “when I found Freya’s note that morning. She ruined everything by running away. This isn’t an excuse, but I threw back a drink or three, to take the edge off. All I could think about was how close I’d been to getting what I wanted, and how now I was right back where I started. I felt hopeless, like I’d always be under Agatha’s thumb.”
Sasha shifted, folding her legs up, pulling herself into a smaller space. “I kept staring at the marriage license we’d filled out and before too long, I’d almost convinced myself to file it anyway. Then I came to my senses and realized Freya would deny everything and sic her legal watchdogs on the story before it could get hot. I decided it was over and I’d have to face life as Ian Buckley’s fiancee.”
“Sorry our engagement was so distasteful,” Ian said, his tone well-laced with irony. “I thought I was doing a friend a favor.”
“I don’t mean anything by it,” Sasha said. “It’s nothing against you. It just wasn’t me. I only did it for Agatha and Trey. Sorry, Trey, it’s the truth. Anyway, I was sitting in my room, trying to figure out what to do next. I had another drink, maybe two, I don’t remember. I was flipping through tourist pamphlets and booklets, the kind they always put in your room. I wasn’t paying much attention when this one picture caught my eye. I stopped and really looked at it.”
Foreboding crept up Jada’s spine.
“It was a story about a local clean-up d
ay at the river,” Sasha said. “And this picture in particular, it’s hard to explain, spoke to me. There were a handful of people in it, and they were all decked out in these gawd-awful clothes. What are those big rubber pants that people go fishing in?”
“Waders?” Trey suggested.
“Yeah. They were up to their knees in the river and they wore these huge, ugly waders. And there was this one woman who was lovely. She was dressed like all the rest of them, but she stood out and not only because she was fine. It was her expression.”
“She was holding out this slimy piece of trash. You know, like this.” Sasha pinched her forefinger and thumb together. “It’s the way you hold something when you don’t want to touch it. I thought it was funny. She had on these big black gloves to protect her hands and she still didn’t want to touch that trash. I read her name in the caption. Jada Howarth. I liked the sound of it.”
Jada had figured as much. She remembered the picture well, particularly since it had recently been aired during CGTV’s hatchet biography.
“I was drunk,” Sasha said. “Not sloppy drunk, but I’d had enough to make the impossible seem possible. I looked at that picture and imagined what it might be like to have Jada’s life. To work a normal day job, to stay in one place, to have friends and meet them at the river to do a good deed. And that woman, Jada, was grossed out with the job, but she didn’t really mind it, not really. I could tell.”
Sasha avoided Jada’s gaze. “I got this brilliant idea that the woman in the picture wouldn’t mind helping me out. She was so nice and friendly, I thought. And I won’t deny it, I figured she didn’t have the money to hire a bunch of lawyers the way Freya did. The more I thought about it, the more I liked the idea and I became convinced that it would work. I had this fantasy that Jada would like the attention, love being famous and being married to a supermodel, so she wouldn’t mind a teeny fib and wouldn’t fight it.”
Jada gritted her teeth. It was hard not to interrupt, and a glance at Ian and Trey showed her they had similar feelings.
“I know you’re going to say I was an idiot, Trey,” Sasha said.