Chapter Eighteen
“The best part is the friendships you make, truly. The women are incredible.”
“Georgia!” Rhett shouts after me. I don’t stop as he calls my name again. I haven’t buckled my sandals yet, and one slides off my foot but I keep going, not bothering to pick it up as I limp around the corner and into the sitting room.
I’m dead if anyone finds my phone.
“Wait!” Rhett calls. Panting, he catches up to me at the end of the hall, holding my shoe.
I grab it and look down at what else he’s holding. Prince Charming carrying … sweatpants? “What—”
He looks down at my bare legs. “Shit,” I mutter, sliding back around the corner and out of sight of the picture windows. I take the sweatpants and pull them on over my still very wet underwear.
“I’m sorry,” he says. “About—”
“It’s not that,” I huff, slipping on my other shoe. “My jeans—I need to get them.” I throw myself around the corner into the empty sitting room. Outside, the nude pool party is in full swing. Addison is still nowhere to be seen and about half of the pool seems to have splashed onto the deck.
I peer through the glass doors for any sign of my jeans but come up empty.
“Not there?” Rhett asks.
Terror mounting, I grab his arm and pull him into a closet off the sitting room. I shut the door, engulfing us in shadows. There’s about two inches between us, and I’m uncomfortably reminded of his lips on my skin not even ten minutes ago. How can so much change so quickly?
“Cozy,” he mutters.
I ignore him. “There’s something in the pocket of my jeans that I cannot let anyone find.”
“The producers don’t care if you have a little cash or—”
“I have a cell phone,” I whisper.
His eyes widen.
“I think—oh no.” I clutch my stomach. “I think I might be sick.”
Rhett stares at me, his face stuck between exasperation and concern.
“Why do you have a phone?” His tone is so stern that I flounder for a moment, as if I might tell him. But he must already know. There’s no other reason for me—for Gracie Hart—to be here.
He narrows his eyes. “How much did you hear—in my room?”
“It’s not—I promise it’s not like that.”
He frowns like he doesn’t believe me, then reaches for the door handle. “Keep looking. See if any of the other women have it. I’m going to find Lainey.”
“You don’t think…” I breathe.
His lips are set in a grim line. “It’s possible. Go.” He opens the closet door and I beeline for the deck.
I sidle up to the pool and crouch down next to Brooklyn, who isn’t in the water, but hasn’t missed the chance to take all her clothes off. Grabbing a potato chip from Olie’s bag, I whisper, “Have you guys seen my jeans?”
On my other side, Nina shakes her head. “Are you okay? You look like you’ve seen a ghost and also run a marathon. You’re all flushed. Where have you been? Are those your pants?”
Nina squints at my legs, then looks up at me with wide eyes. “Georgia, you didn’t—”
“What? Oh shit.” If my flushed skin and ragged breathing weren’t enough of a clue, Rhett’s sweatpants are a dead giveaway. I stand and wriggle out of them, then fling them over the tall hedge beside us. Olie looks at me like I’ve completely gone off the deep end.
“Why’d you take those off?” she asks.
I try to catch my breath. “The cameras will be back on soon. Gotta—” I wheeze, “stay sexy.”
“Too true,” Olie agrees.
The absurdity of the situation hits me all at once: me, crouching next to a pool filled with a half-dozen naked women, searching for my contraband burner phone, which I misplaced in a desperate nude attempt to spy on Rhett, which ended in a hot-tub hookup.
Then, to make matters much, much worse, the lights around the pool flick back on. Everyone goes silent as we hear a familiar click-clacking sound.
Lainey comes onto the porch, my jeans dangling from one manicured finger. A PA is close behind, a camera balanced on his shoulder.
Nina shrieks, covering her boobs with her hands.
“Relax,” Lainey says, bored. “We’ll blur it out. Jules, go get Roland.”
My eyes are trained on the pants hanging from her hand when Rhett emerges from inside the mansion, a stricken look on his face. His eyes dart to the pants, then to me, but they don’t linger. Lainey must have beaten him to it.
She mutters something to Rhett and he nods. A horrible, sickening image sneaks into my brain: Rhett, finding my jeans and turning them over to Lainey.
“Whose are these?” Lainey demands, eyes narrowed as she looks from Nina to me to Olie to the other women in the pool.
Olie, utterly calm, pops a chip in her mouth and shakes her head. “Not mine,” she says, crunching loudly.
The alcohol still coursing through me is making it hard to think about what an effective lie would be or what an innocent person’s face looks like.
Lainey’s eyes pin me and my breath hitches.
It’s over. It’s all over. It must be, or else why would she have that cruel, satisfied expression on her face?
“Not a crime to have pants, is it?” Rhett asks. Then he seems to realize the number of naked women in front of him and turns around.
“No,” Lainey says icily. “But cell phones definitely aren’t allowed.” She reaches into the pocket of my jeans and pulls out the flip phone, showing it to us with the air of a mastermind villain revealing her grand plan. Even if it’s against the rules, this is exactly the kind of drama she wanted.
“Lots of funny things I’ve been finding around,” Lainey says in that same icy tone, her eyes sweeping over the pool.
“Tampons, underwear, cell phones.” Her gaze lands back on me and it’s clear.
She knows. Beside me, Nina sits up straighter, and I silently beg her not to tell Lainey that they’re my jeans, my phone.
She clears her throat. I’m gone, I just know it.
“It’s mine,” Nina says.
Brooklyn gasps, clutching her heart.
I stare at Nina, horrorstruck. “No,” I whisper. Rhett turns around, forgetting himself, and stares at her, open-mouthed.
Nina glances at me, smiles reassuringly. “I know what I’m doing,” she whispers. As elegantly as a goddess, she rises from the pool, fully nude, and drips toward Lainey. Pink in the face, Rhett shuffles around again so he’s facing the bushes.
Olie is chomping so furiously on her chips that I almost can’t hear what Nina says next.
“I’ve been using it to call home and check on my daughter,” she tells Lainey. “The daily video calls aren’t enough—I needed a way to get in contact in case anything was wrong.”
Lainey’s face falls, eyes stealing to me. “Unless I’m very much mistaken, these are Georgia’s pants.”
Nina grits her teeth. “They’re mine,” she growls.
A muscle in Lainey’s cheek twitches, but other than that, she gives no indication that she knows Nina is lying. Instead, she digs the knife deeper. “Prove it.”
Nina grabs the jeans from Lainey and pulls them over her wet legs. Once they’re on, Lainey hooks a finger inside the waistband, yanking her forward.
“They don’t look your size.”
“I like them like this,” Nina says, her face an inch from Lainey’s. “After having a baby, things fit me differently. And unless you’re going to have every naked woman here try them on like the Sisterhood of the Traveling Yeast Infection, you should believe me.”
For a second, I think Lainey is about to parade each of us up and into the jeans, but instead, she releases Nina, who grabs the phone.
“I’m leaving,” she says, crossing her arms over her bare chest. “I can’t do this anymore. It’s too hard for me to be away from my daughter. I’d like to say goodbye to Roland, if I’m allowed.”
Lainey huffs but recovers from the whole situation masterfully fast. “I want everyone in the sitting room in thirty minutes, fully clothed. That includes you, Rhett,” she says, practically spitting his name. With that, she goes back inside, shouting, “Where the hell are Roland and Addison?”
The handheld camera is discarded, dollies brought out, hidden cameras probably rolling again.
All bets of secrecy are off. I hurry over to Nina and wrap her in a hug even though she’s half-naked and soaking wet.
She puts her arms around me, but as I start to thank her, she cuts me off, whispering fast.
“I had to, Georgia. Don’t thank me—it was the right thing to do.
I wanted to leave anyway—it was never going to be me and Roland, but I think you have a real chance at finding something here.
” She looks over my shoulder and I follow her gaze toward Rhett, who is standing on the periphery of the patio.
“How did you—”
Her hands fumble at my waist, the cool metal of the phone pressing to my stomach, trapped in the hem of my tight top. “I think I’ve gotta keep the pants though,” she whispers. “Give ’em hell, querida.”
“What’s going on?” Roland sprints onto the scene and collides with Nina.
He looks her up and down, his face flushing.
His shirt is untucked, hair messy, and he has a conspicuous lipstick mark on his jaw.
Olie lets out a growl as Addison tiptoes behind him and perches on the edge of the pool beside Brooklyn, who turns pointedly away from her.
Once we’ve all gotten dressed, and I’ve hidden the burner safely back in my bag, we gather downstairs. Philippa and Chloe finally join the group again, both looking giggly and sheepish.
“Jesus,” Olie mutters to me and Brooklyn. “Is everyone having sex except us?”
I pull the collar of my shirt higher, hoping Rhett didn’t leave any marks on my skin aside from the goosebumps still crawling up and down my back.
“Things are going to be different moving forward.” Lainey’s loafers click-clack across the floor. “If I hear that anyone else is hiding phones or sneaking around, you’ll be out like that.” She snaps her fingers, making me wince.
Roland is sitting off to the side, nursing coffee like it’s a baby bottle. My eyes pass between him and Addison, the matching lipstick stain on his skin and her lips.