Chapter Twenty-Two #2
“Apparently, he didn’t really mind if we had a third roommate.
He was just enforcing it a ton because when he first saw Rocky with us, he thought he was an abusive mark who stalked you here.
He didn’t want him staying with us for that reason.
” She tucks a piece of damp hair behind her pierced ear.
“He was protecting us before he even knew us, Phebs. I didn’t think men like him even existed. I thought they were imaginary.”
My lungs swell. “He is a really good one, your Jake.”
Her face is fire-engine red when I call him hers. “He’s not mine.” I hear the uneasy tone.
“Sorry.” I shift uncertainly, seeing her get a little weird about it. “Would you rather be with Oliver then?” I love that for my brother, but this whole situation just feels too complicated to aggressively root for anyone.
“I don’t want to make the choice, and maybe the answer is no answer at all.”
My fingers slip off my blouse, letting it hang. “I don’t follow.”
“No commitments. No ties that bind. They can go fly free. I’m releasing them from being devoted to me.”
There is no way my brother can stop caring about Hailey in the same way that she can’t stop blushing at the mere mention of him. And Jake—if Jake didn’t love her, he wouldn’t look so tortured every time she has to hang out with his dickhead brother.
She plucks some luxe paper towels from the basket by the sink. The ones Katherine has told us explicitly are for members only. She uses them to squeeze out the water from the damp ends of her hair. Her eyes mostly on the floor.
“Hails,” I whisper. “I think you’re just scared. Maybe the next step is finally telling them what’s going on? I’m the only person who knows you’re pregnant, and that pool should open up, especially while you’re a principal on this type of job.”
“Carter knows,” she reminds me. “He’s been telling me to loop in the whole team.”
I raise my hands to the air. Thank you. “Yes, I agree with our beloved forger.”
“Of course you do. If you were me, you would’ve already told Rocky. You would’ve told your brothers and Trevor and Jake. You would’ve let them help you.” Her eyes well. “You’re so much braver than I am.”
I used to assure her that she’s smarter than me in comparison, but I don’t think it’s what she needs to hear anymore. “You’re just as brave.” I say the truth strongly. “Braver even.”
Her chin tries not to quake.
“You’re doing a hard task out of your mastermind wheelhouse while dealing with an unexpected pregnancy and a romance with two eligible bachelors.
All in a town that gossips about literally everything, including a restaurant’s supposed shrimp burglar, which turned out to be a cat stealing prawns off the patio. ”
She lets out a laugh, the sound softening into a smile. “I love it here.”
“Me too,” I murmur with the same tenderness. “Good thing we technically don’t have to leave.”
“Technically, yeah, we can stay if all goes to plan.”
We have to execute this job. “We will.” I nod, my ribs tightening.
I won’t screw up.
But I’m not a main player on the board. I’ve chosen to sit this one out. This isn’t going to come down to me anymore. All I can do is help Hailey. “You ready?” I tuck my decently dried blouse into my black slacks.
She crumples the paper towels. “I’m going to tell them.”
“Wait, what?” I have whiplash. My jaw slowly drops to the floor.
“I’m going to tell Jake and Oliver about the baby. Today.” She throws the paper towels in the trash. “They deserve to know. They need to know. I’m going to be brave.”
I nearly start crying at the strength in her voice, and I hug my best friend. Again, I remind her, “You already are.”
Tighter than tight, she hugs me back.
I wish we could spend the day together, but Katherine Rhodes sends me a rude text about mimosa duty. Soon, we go our separate ways. Hailey to serve the ladies at the pool and me to man the sunroom.
After I deliver four palomas and one Corona to Jake loyalists (aka the awesome ladies who wake at the ass crack of dawn to hit plastic balls), I enter the very empty dining room.
I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I miss the midday rush.
I miss being pulled every chaotic direction. I’m actually pissed so many decided the Mariner’s Club is “trendier” when VCC is ten times better. Even with the elitist undertones.
At least we’re not harboring a misogynist named Trent Waterford.
It annoys me that the town is still determined to pick sides between the Koning brothers, and it’s translated to them talking with their pocketbooks. Team Jake versus Team Trent has become Victoria Country Club versus the Mariner’s Club.
It’s a petty feud, but bored townspeople aren’t beneath petty.
If I weren’t so completely and wholeheartedly Team Jake, maybe—maybe—I’d find entertainment value in the drama.
The reality is that I want to stab anyone who tells me they’re leaving VCC for the Mariner’s, which is why I am staying away from knives.
It’s also why I am throwing extra love to those who have stayed. In the form of pleasant smiles.
It’s not hard to maintain real ones when I’ve grown fond of so many people here. Like little old Meara O’Neil, acting like Fizzle royalty while slurping soda and asking for help with the New York Times daily crossword. I do get excited every time I see her rosy-cheeked face.
I bend down behind the bar to restock my tray with Evian from the mini fridge.
“The pool chairs are for guests.” Katherine’s voice grows loud as she walks into the room. “Not staff.”
I freeze in a squat behind the bar. Hidden from view. Ugh. I didn’t intend to accidentally eavesdrop on my boss today.
“Hailey is on a break. It’s one hour.” And that’s Jake talking. Make that two bosses.
“We have a standard to uphold here,” Katherine tells him.
“A standard your mother set, whether you appreciate it or not. Membership dues are down by fifty-five percent. We’ve had members…
drop out,” she whispers as if the bubonic plague is spreading.
“How do you expect anyone to return if they see servers using guest spaces? They’re not paying members, Jake. It’s not fair to those who are.”
“It’s one hour,” Jake says carefully, gently. “Just today. She won’t hurt the reputation of the club, and if she does, we can discuss ways to fix it together.”
He’s so in deep for Hails. Because there’s no way in hell he’d let me use the lounge chairs. He told me to stop stealing peppermints from the front desk last week.
Katherine lets out a resigned sigh. “Just today.”
The room goes quiet, and I wait a solid minute before standing up. Sure enough, they’re gone. My stomach overturns as I process what Katherine said. I knew membership had dropped, but I didn’t realize we were at half capacity already.
Between this, the ragers Trent is throwing that are slowly destroying the Koning estate, and the ongoing legal disputes, Jake must be under a lot of stress.
I don’t think “baby news” will be a lovely addition to his issues. Hailey wants to tell him today…It’ll be fine.
I empathize with her hesitation now. I’m sure she hasn’t wanted to front-load this baggage onto him.
I pull my hair into a high pony. “Could this day get any worse? Signs point to…” I trail off, just smiling as I think of Rocky. He’d totally be giving me shit for even floating the question in the air. His superstitious soul would say I just jinxed myself.
Good thing I don’t carry the same belief.
Heading back to the sunroom, I make my rounds. Not one but three of the ladies give me compliments on my morning brunch recommendation after I tell them to steer clear of the lobster eggs benedict and go for the duck confit hash.
Sipping on her soda, Meara O’Neil watches the news on the only television in the sunroom. An ornate gold frame surrounds the screen like it’ll hide the fact that it’s a TV.
Meara waves me over, which is a departure from her usual intense eye contact to get my attention. When I approach, she asks hurriedly, “Phoebe, turn this up, dear?”
The remote is already secured in my back pocket for this very purpose. I smile—at least I am excelling at something. But when I turn the volume up and focus on the television screen, my lips begin to drop. “Meara, this has been playing for weeks. It’s old news.”
She shoos me with a hand. “They might be saying something new.”
Unlikely.
The news anchor repeats the viral headlines. “As we’ve been reporting, Lily Calloway, daughter of the founder of Fizzle, is a sex addict. She has slept with over fifty men. But today we have breaking news…It’s been confirmed she hired male sex workers.”
Meara gasps.
I almost gasp with her—we have a shared love of tabloid drama. The entire sunroom explodes in a wave of whispers. I stare at images of a thin brunette, her posture a little awkward and her green eyes downcast like she’s camera shy. Well, someone is having a worse day than all of us.
Honestly, I feel bad for this Lily girl. No one should have their sex life blasted on national news, especially if she does have a problem, and I wouldn’t be shocked if she’s being harassed by the media if this is still airing on TV.
Meara side-eyes her glass of Fizz soda like it’s somehow diseased. Dear God.
I slip the remote into my back pocket and escape toward the state-of-the-art gym to see if any of the members need an Evian or cold towel. I get as far as the windowed rotunda when a postman arrives with a stack of newspapers fresh off the press.
“I’ll take those,” I say like a dutiful employee. I am nothing if not helpful. Doing menial tasks. Not at all nosy.
“Just sign here, ma’am.” He passes me a clipboard along with a few envelopes addressed to the Konings’ LLC.
I consider signing Jake’s name. Or even Katherine’s. I’ve memorized their signatures out of habit. I should be a better version of myself and simply write, Phoebe, but self-preservation takes over, and I do a slightly immoral thing.