TESS
It’s four-thirty in the afternoon and I’m still in bed. The tea is cold and I’m starving. I didn’t buy any groceries so there’s nothing to eat, and I didn’t do any laundry so there’s an enormous basket of dirty clothes. And I don’t even care.
I’m burrowing myself deeper into my cocoon of blankets when there’s a knock on the door.
“Who is it?” I turned my phone off hours ago, because I wanted to pretend the rest of the world didn’t exist. Somehow my head got all wonky in the last twenty-four hours, and no amount of “talking it out” with Emmy and Claire would fix that.
I’m a shitty friend.
The stuff with the press showing up, and remembering why I’m so uncomfortable with the spotlight, just brought to the surface exactly why I’m running—brought to the surface who I’m running from.
I blink back tears and roll out of bed.
Looking through the peephole, I see Emmy and Claire.
I pull open the door and plaster a smile on my face.
“Hey, ladies, what’s up?” I ask.
“You didn’t answer your phone like a normal person so we came over to see if you’re okay. Are you okay?” Claire asks, pushing through my door.
“Sorry, I just woke up.”
“This place is so depressing, Tess,” Emmy says. “I think you should move into the extra bedroom at our place.”
“Emmy’s right,” Claire says. “I mean, this place is—.”
“You guys, don’t. Please. I know you mean well, but I’m not moving into your apartments. That would be awkward. Besides, it wasn’t so long ago you weren’t living in penthouses, and you had to find quarters to do your laundry at the laundromat, and you were eating cereal for dinner.”
Claire waves her hands for me to stop. “We get it. Sorry. It’s just things have changed for us, and I hate that they haven’t changed for you.”
“I don’t need anyone to sweep me off my feet to be happy. I’m working hard and making a life for myself, okay?”
We’re standing in my one-room studio because I don’t exactly have anywhere to sit, besides a chair at the desk and my double bed.
“I know, girl. You work hella hard,” Emmy says. “We just don’t want things to get weird because we have….”
“Billionaire husbands?”
“Yeah.” Claire purses her lips, then speaks again. “I think I forget how hard-up you are right now, Tess. You never complain or ask for anything. And I haven’t been to your place since I came back from London, which was almost two months ago.”
“Why would you come here?” I ask. “You both have lovely homes. And I love spending time with you guys there. I don’t even have a place for us to sit.”
“You have a bed.” Emmy plops down. “And speaking of sleep.”
“No one was speaking of sleep,“ I say. “Anyone want tea?”
“No, thanks,” Claire says, pulling out the chair tucked away at my desk, looking at my neatly stacked piles of library books. “Man, Tess, you have so many books. It’s sort of insane. I never see you reading anything but fashion magazines.”
Ignoring her, I try to get to the real reason they’re here. “Um, it’s cool you came over to visit, but since we’ve already covered the fact you never do ... what is this all about?”
Emmy smiles, falling into the pillows on my bed. “Well, we’re kinda pissed at you.”
“Me?” I huff indignantly. “What did I do?”
“You were naughty last night and didn’t even call to tell us,” Claire says, crossing her arms in mock seriousness.
“Yeah,” Emmy says, throwing a pillow at me. “We had to hear about it online.”
I catch the pillow, and my breath catches, too. “What do you mean?” I ask. “What did you hear?”
Before Emmy can respond, there’s another knock on the door. My heart jumps. If those photos of Jack and I got out in the world, I’ll have lost all sense of security.
Chapter Eight
JACK
When the town car stops at the apartment complex, I try to swallow my sense of shock. I knew Tess worked at a casino, and I knew she must be living on her tips, but I can’t believe Ace pays his employees a wage that forces them to live in a place like this.
Walking up the three flights of stairs to Tess’s place—#308, according to the text Emmy sent—I tell myself that this is just an apartment. But, in my gut, I know it isn’t good enough for Tess.
Shit, what does it say about all of us, that we have so much money but one of our own lives in such a sketchy place?