Chapter 21
THERE ARE NEARLY TWO DOZEN places to eat and drink inside the Bellagio hotel, and of all the ones her publicist could have picked, Tegan scheduled Cole’s last interview of the convention at the Baccarat Bar.
Cole didn’t think anything of it at first—a hotel bar is a hotel bar—but as soon as she enters the Baccarat with Tegan and Alba, she remembers.
This is the last place she and Kylie Kahl ever talked in person, only weeks before she disappeared.
Tegan leads them through the bar, lush and showy with its red velvet chairs, gold velvet sofas, and moody ambient lighting.
“How’s this?” Tegan points to an unoccupied corner sofa. “We’re a few minutes early. Drinks?”
“The usual, please.” Cole sinks awkwardly into the plush cushions, her Oscar de la Renta dress so tight she can barely bend. “But make it a double.”
Her publicist and assistant exchange a look, but neither woman says anything as they head toward the circular bar in the middle of room. They’ll save their opinions on their boss’s drinking for when she’s out of earshot.
From her vantage point, Cole can see the exact spot where she and Kylie sat six years ago.
It was just the two of them, and they were celebrating the end of their first RealityCon, which they’d learned might also be their last. Phil Beatty had given the cast a heads-up that Quan was disappointed in their streaming numbers.
It wasn’t likely there’d be a season two.
“So what the hell do we do now?” Kylie had said to her as she sipped her mojito.
The youngest trophy wife had been the surprise standout of the show.
Already accustomed to baring it all on TikTok, she was naturally funny, with a warmth and transparency that translated well to TV.
“Just go back to our regular lives like the show never happened?”
“It’s not a done deal yet,” Cole had replied, feeling hazy from her second vodka lime.
This was back when she still paced herself and always drank a glass of water in between cocktails.
“They’re still going to interview us, hear our pitches for another season.
If we can come up with good storylines, they might do it again. ”
“It’s not fair,” Kylie said, a slight whine in her voice. “No show could have launched successfully on Quan at the same time as that old comedian being murdered. Jimmy Peralta and his wife were all anyone could talk about.”
Kylie’s lavish wedding to billionaire Freddie Tan was featured in detail that first season, and while it was a great storyline, simply not enough people watched. The streaming numbers for Trophy Wives didn’t spike until two months after the season finale dropped, which was when Kylie disappeared.
To this day, there are many conspiracy theories about what might have happened to her.
The most popular one is that Freddie had his new wife murdered while he was in the Philippines visiting family, because he’d changed his mind about her and it was cheaper to hire someone to kill her than it was to pay her whatever he’d agreed to in their prenup.
Cole refuses to believe that Freddie killed Kylie.
She’d met Freddie, and the man was really nice.
He and Kylie’s relationship was strong, and it wasn’t because they were perfect.
It was because they were messy. They got irritated with each other over dumb things.
They weren’t afraid to call each other out.
They laughed. They argued. They apologized.
“I don’t know that we’re in love, but we do love each other,” Kylie had told her.
By then, they were three or four cocktails in.
“He’s my best friend. He knows I appreciate his bank account, and I know he believes there’s some kind of status in having a young, blond American wife.
” She barks a laugh. “Which, ironically, makes me the literal definition of a trophy wife.”
“We’re all trophy wives,” Cole had replied, her words beginning to slur. “That’s why we did the show.”
“But at least we’re honest about it, you know?
” Kylie had finished her cocktail and was signaling the bartender for another one.
“But what if this marriage doesn’t work out?
I’m twenty-six, with no college degree, no real work experience.
What I have are ten million followers who like seeing me in a bikini on Freddie’s yacht.
Being naked and rich is literally my brand, but for how long?
I can’t gain weight. I can’t get old. What happens if he leaves me? What happens when my looks go?”
Cole didn’t know what to say.
“Do you ever wish you could just up and walk away from it all? Start over somewhere new, with a new name, even a new look? Like . . . a redo.” Kylie had looked at her, her eyes glistening in the dim bar. “Sometimes I wonder what that would be like.”
“That’s what I did when I left Seaside.” The words slipped out before Cole could stop herself, but by then, she was so drunk, it almost felt like someone else was speaking.
“After what we did to Lorelei, there was no way I could stay there. But then Sam turned out to be the Carnival Killer and he somehow confessed and I couldn’t believe we were actually going to get away with it—”
“Get away with what?” Kylie had asked, her eyes wide. “Who’s Lorelei? What did you do?”
Cole had said too much. Kylie was staring at her, waiting for her to finish. Both of them were three sheets to the wind, but they were still cognizant enough to recognize that a truth bomb had just been dropped.
“Forget it,” Cole had said, attempting to laugh it off as she mentally slapped herself. “I’ve had too much to drink. I don’t know what I’m talking about.”
“Okay,” Kylie had said. But there was no mistaking the gleam in the younger woman’s eyes, and it wasn’t the alcohol.
Tegan and Alba are back with their drinks, and her memories of that last night with Kylie fade.
The interviewer has arrived as well. Cole barely pays attention as introductions are made, and has no idea which media site the young man is even representing.
But does it matter? They’re all the same.
They all want to know the same things, and Cole will give the same answers, because everyone here is a professional who knows how to do their job.
Which is what Kylie was doing when she went to Seaside to dig up dirt on Cole’s past. Cole is certain of it. Nobody wanted a second season of Trophy Wives more than Kylie Kahl, and if she had to expose all of Cole’s secrets to do it, she would have.
So no, she doesn’t believe Freddie Tan killed his wife. Whatever happened to Kylie is Cole’s fault.
But is she dead?
Where are you, Kylie? Are you okay?