No Comment
Delaney
I was lathered in the shower when I heard someone hollering my name. And not just any someone.
Walt.
He sounded frantic, like he was having a heart attack. My own heart kicked into overdrive as I shut off the water and stopped to listen.
He hollered again. "Delaney!"
A jolt of panic shot through me. Oh, my God.
This sounded serious.
With barely a rinse, I jumped out of the shower and rushed to the tiny window, which I'd left open to let out the steam. Pressing my face to the screen, I hollered out toward his cabin. "What's wrong?"
From somewhere inside, he called out, "You've got to get over here, like now!"
Already, I was reaching for my towel, dripping water and leaving little patches of foam in my wake. As I scrubbed at the suds, I called back, "Are you hurt?"
There was a long pause. "What?"
I called it again, louder this time. "Are you hurt?"
"No, I'm not hurt," he called back, sounding like the idea was ridiculous.
I paused. "So why are you yelling?"
"Because you're gonna kick yourself if you miss it. Now, get over here before it's gone!"
Good Lord.
Before what was gone?
A bear?
I shuddered to think.
Or…maybe a moose?
Did they even have moose around here?
Our little cluster of lakeside cabins backed up to the woods, so honestly, it seemed entirely possible. The nearest town was tiny, the wilderness seemed endless, and Lake Superior stretched beyond the narrow beach like an inland ocean.
I called back, "Should I bring a weapon?" It's not like I had a weapon, but the cabin did have a broom.
Hey, it was better than nothing.
But already, Walt was hollering back, "Why? You gonna shoot my TV?"
Wait, what? I pressed my face closer to the screen. I still couldn't see Walt, but both cabin windows that faced me were wide open in spite of cool October air. "Wait…so it's not an emergency?"
"Just get over here! Now!"
I yanked on my underpants, followed quickly by my leggings and the oversized sweatshirt I'd draped over the towel rack. I shoved my feet into my sneakers without bothering with socks and hightailed it over to Walt's cabin, arriving damp and breathless as I shoved open his cabin door.
Walt was planted directly in front of his small, portable television, the one he'd hauled up from Chicago and somehow connected to a satellite dish on the roof.
He gave me a quick glance before stepping aside to reveal what had gotten him so excited.
At what I saw, I literally gasped. Right there on the screen, there he was, the guy I'd known as Maddox.
He was surrounded by reporters as he left some high rise in Chicago. Or at least I assumed it was Chicago. Regardless, he looked like he wanted to be anywhere but there.
Dressed in a dark, tailored suit, he looked exactly as I remembered – tall, broad-shouldered, dark-haired, and unfairly handsome with a shadow of stubble along his jaw.
Even on the small TV screen, he was magnetic and imposing, like a movie star, come to life. The reporters converged on him from all sides, but he moved effortlessly through the crowd like a man accustomed to having the world make way.
His mouth was tight as he said only two words. "No comment."
And with that, he ducked into the back seat of a waiting town car, which promptly sped away, leaving the reporters hollering after it.
The camera panned back to a pretty blonde reporter who said, "That was Maddox McGuiness, the Chicago real estate mogul who has so far declined to comment on the disappearance of his former fiancée, Sloane Hayworth."
Holy crap.
Sloane Hayworth?
Her, I knew – and not only because her family was famous. Over the years, Mom had only mentioned Sloane and her mother like a million times – and never in a good way.
The reporter's eyes gleamed as she added in a more ominous tone, "But given their explosive history, some people are already assuming the worst."
My jaw dropped. The worst?
As in what?
He'd killed her?
I didn't believe it.
Heck, I didn't believe any of this. And forget Sloane Hayworth.
What I'd just learned about Maddox remained firmly on center stage. Trying to process it, I murmured, "Maddox McGuiness? Real estate mogul?" I stared at the screen until it went to a commercial for life insurance.
I looked back to Walt. "How much did I miss?"
He snorted. "A lot. I told you to hurry."
I was still reeling. Honestly, I would've been less surprised by the moose.
Walt picked up the remote and lowered the volume before turning back to say, "Huh. I wonder why he was going by Cal."
I was wondering a lot more than that. "So you didn't recognize him?"
"On the TV?" Walt gave me a funny look. "Yeah, I recognized him. It was the guy flashing your picture – the same guy you dumped dirt on." He stared like I was missing the point. "Why do you think I called you over?"
I sighed. "I meant back in Chicago. You seriously didn't know who he was? The way they were talking, he's a pretty big deal."
Walt shook his head. "I thought he was a guy named Cal." He perked up. "But everyone knows Sloane." His expression grew thoughtful. "Wasn't her dad almost vice-president?"
"Yup." He sure was. Of course, that key word – almost – had made Mom smile when the results were tallied, even though it was her own political party that had lost.
I looked back to Walt's TV, which was now showing a commercial for heavy-duty work trucks. But in my mind, I could still see the image of Maddox surrounded by reporters. The whole thing was beyond surreal.
I returned my attention to Walt. "Never mind Sloane. How could you not know him? You live right there in Chicago."
"Forget Chicago," Walt scoffed. "Apparently, the guy's famous everywhere." He pointed at me with the remote. "How come you didn't know him? He's a lot closer to your age than mine."
"But what does that have to do with anything?"
"I dunno…don't you have Twatter or something?"
I blinked. "Wait…you mean Twitter, right?"
"Twitter, Twatter, it's all the same to me."
It didn't even matter. The name had changed to X, anyway. But Walt did have a point. I should've known.
That's what I got for living under a rock.
No doubt, Tessa would've known Maddox right away.
Unlike me, she always knew the names and faces of important people.
And Maddox was definitely important.
To think, I'd gone to dinner with him, had coffee with him, dumped dirt all over him – heck, I'd even kissed him while having no idea who he was.
Suddenly, I recalled our conversation over Monopoly. He'd mentioned a cancelled wedding – something about financial issues with the bride.
Sloane Hayworth.
Mom would just love to hear that. I meant that literally, because according to Mom, Cynthia Hayworth – Sloane's mom, then known as Cynthia Rumpus – had been chasing money and status since freshman year.
Mom absolutely hated her.
If Mom and I hadn't been on the outs, I surely would've heard all about the cancelled wedding, whether I'd been living under a rock or not.
I was still lost in my thoughts when Walt asked, "Hey, how come you're all wet?" He squinted at the top of my head. "Do you know you got soap in your hair?"
I reached up to touch it. Sure enough, my fingers came away just a little sudsy. I winced at the sight. "Yeah, I was in the shower."
"Oh." He paused. "Sorry about that."
"I'm not," I said, giving the TV another glance. "Do you think they'll show it again?"
"A story that juicy?" He chuckled. "They'll probably show it every five minutes. It's the news channel, so they're always looking for something."
Before I could respond, Walt pointed at the screen. "See? Told you."
As he cranked up the volume, I turned to look.
The truck commercial was gone, and the blonde reporter had reappeared, standing in front of the same building.
"In breaking news, sales continue to climb for Sloane Hayworth's explosive memoir, detailing her turbulent relationship with billionaire businessman Maddox McGuiness, long known as the black sheep of the Whitmore family, the powerhouse dynasty behind a global empire of luxury brands and hotels… "
While the reporter continued, Walt said, "Funny, I stayed at a Whitmore once. I was in Tampa for that fishing expo. Nice towels. Kind of pricy, though." His voice brightened. "Except I used some travel points, got it for free."
My eyes were still glued to the screen. I wasn't thinking about hotels or towels. I was thinking about Maddox.
Not Cal.
Not Bob.
And certainly not Slick.
The ramifications hit hard and fast.
He hadn't lied to me about his name.
He hadn't lied about a cancelled wedding.
And he definitely hadn't lied about the bride selling access – because she appeared to be doing exactly that, even now, spilling private secrets in a tell-all book.
But wait…no, she wasn't.
Not if she was missing.
Still, the point remained. Missing or not, it sounded like she'd sold him out completely.
In a flash, I recalled my final conversation with Maddox, when I'd stood outside that penthouse door and treated him like some criminal. At the memory, I couldn't help but cringe.
I'd threatened to call the police, for God's sake.
Or the FBI.
Or something.
By now, a lot of it was a blur.
Even so, I could still see the look on his face when I'd chewed him out, saying things that now seemed insane.
Plus, I'd called him an asshole.
But it couldn't have been all my fault. He'd done some genuinely suspicious things.
For starters, there was that photo of me on his phone. Walt had seen it with his own eyes, thanks to Maddox flashing it around and asking questions.
And then there was the business card.
If his name was Maddox McGuiness – which it apparently was – why on Earth was he handing out cards that introduced himself as Cal Smith?
Was he going incognito?
And why?
Even for an eccentric rich guy, this was beyond sketchy.
Here in the cabin, Walt asked, "Are you sure you don't want to rinse off?"
I blinked. "Sorry, what?"
When I looked in his direction, he pointed to my hair. "You've still got suds. You don't want to get a rash or nothin', do ya?"
No. I didn't. I should definitely head back and finish the shower I'd started. And yet, my gaze strayed once again to the TV, where an image of Sloane Hayworth filled the screen.
She was standing beside a podium in a pale blue dress, smiling toward some unseen audience. Honey-blonde hair fell in soft waves over her shoulders, and she looked impossibly polished, like the sort of woman who never spilled coffee or ran anywhere sudsy.
I gave Walt a weak smile. "Would you believe that Sloane's mom and my mom were sorority sisters?"
He looked surprised. "No kidding? So they're friends, huh?"
I almost laughed. "I wouldn't go that far."
At best, they were frenemies from ages ago. All my life, I'd had to listen while Mom compared Tessa to Sloane, saying that Tessa was ten times prettier, so why was everyone making such a big deal about – in Mom's words – the daughter of that little upstart from Beaverton.
Walt gave the TV another glance. "So, have you ever met her? Sloane, I mean?"
The idea was laughable. "Nah. Our families run in very different circles." I rolled my eyes. "You have no idea." I glanced toward the cabin door. "But you're right. I really should rinse off. Can I come back in a few minutes?"
"Sure." Walt grinned. "I think I'll make popcorn."
"But it's only mid-morning." And more to the point, I wasn't sure I liked the idea of munching on popcorn while the media debated whether Maddox McGuiness was a misunderstood billionaire or a woman's worst nightmare.
"Tell ya what," Walt said. "I'll make enough for two, just in case."