“First of all, Frieda,” Missy said, establishing their rapport and her own composure, “other people built more on that relationship than I did. You know how it is when someone’s famous. Everyone they blink at must be their boyfriend. I’d say Zane and I dated casually. On the other hand, I don’t deny that today I’m feeling a bit misled.”
Treys snorted as Missy smoothed her snug skirt primly, not coincidentally drawing attention to her legs.
“So you don’t believe Zane Alexander’s claim that he’s bisexual? Don’t you think the tape supports that?”
“Well, I’m no expert on these things, but some might say if he really did like women, he’d have tried harder to hold onto me.” Missy attempted to look modest, but wasn’t selling that.
Whatever Finch believed, she maintained her poker face. “You must feel like you dodged a bullet. If Zane Alexander had pursued you harder, that could have been you in that tape.”
This question was a bit sharper than Missy expected. She drew herself straighter and pursed her mouth. “I assure you, the . . . sort of activities in that recording aren’t what I go in for. I have more self-esteem than that. My concern is that other vulnerable women don’t get taken in by Zane or Trey Hayworth. Behind that rich bad boy glamour, the truth is unsavory.”
“You’re saying Trey Hayworth, CFO of TBBC, is also to blame for this?”
Missy turned her million-dollar fake-lashed eyes toward the camera, her expression oozing sincerity.
“Fuck,” Zane muttered even before she spoke.
“I’m saying Trey Hayworth has his own shameful secrets. I’m saying neither of TBBC’s chief officers can be trusted.”
The camera cut back to Finch, who announced they had an exclusive pre-taped interview with a close relative of TBBC’s CFO.
“No,” Trey said, startled into it. Zane grasped his arm in support, but couldn’t stop Trey’s crazy aunt from appearing on the screen. Constance Sharp was better dressed than he’d last seen her—her make up professionally applied, her silver hair freshly coiffed. Despite the buff and polish, the crazy glitter in her eyes was impossible to disguise. She was posed in a high-backed chair in what looked like a nice hotel room.
“I’m not surprised by anything Trey Hayworth does,” she huffed. “He ignores his family, and spreads horrid lies about my father. My father was ten times the man those limp wrists are, but my brother was just as bad as Trey. He lied too, and hit people with his toys. It’s no wonder my nephew turned out the way he did.”
“And there you have it,” Frieda Finch concluded, her face in the frame again. “Does Trey Hayworth have a reason to be estranged from his family? Is he the victim of ill treatment or the boy who cried wolf? More mystery and scandal surrounding two of Boston’s best known businessmen.”
“Oh come on,” Pete burst out as the station went to commercial. “This is bogus. Anyone can see that old lady is off the rails. Just like anyone can see Mystique set this whole thing up when she couldn’t bag her man. She’s lashing out like a jilted cheerleader in high school. It’s so obvious it’s sad.”
“It’ll only be obvious to people who want to see it that way.” Trey spoke quietly, but his face had gone white with stress. Even more than Missy, Finch had put her finger on his personal angst button. Zane moved his hand from Trey’s arm to his shoulder, which caused Trey to shift his gaze to him.
“I guess we know where my aunt disappeared to,” he said. “Missy was hiding her.”
Missy must have tracked Constance down after seeing her break into TBBC’s headquarters. He gave her points for paying attention, but God what a mess this was. He supposed it helped that Trey’s aunt wasn’t reading from the same revenge playbook as the model—though that didn’t spare Trey of course.
Aware of this, Rebecca wrapped her arms around Trey’s chest from behind.
“I’m okay,” he said. “Missy only wins if I let this upset me.”
That he had let it upset him was apparent to everyone.
“Someone needs to school that bitch,” Charlie said.
“You leave it alone,” Zane advised, though he shared the sentiment. He leveled a stare at Pete too. “Both of you. This is for me and Trey to handle.”
“Sure,” Charlie said.
“Sure,” Pete agreed.
“Oh God,” Rebecca moaned, no doubt on account of knowing her siblings well.
Zane wanted to smile but worried it might encourage them.
~
Trey didn’t know how long he’d have stood there, stupid and dumbstruck, if Rebecca and Zane hadn’t led him to the empty guest room across the hall. The windows there overlooked the front lawn and the long tree-lined drive. Everything outside was peaceful: just another gracious country estate in rural New England.
Ignoring the allure of the air conditioning, he yanked up the window sash. Real air swept in at him, warm and grass-scented. Rebecca and Zane rubbed his back from either side.
“I don’t care if people know who I sleep with,” he said as steadily as he could. “I just don’t want the world to view me as a victim. I want to choose who I share my past with.”
He turned to rest his h*ps on the windowsill. Rebecca and Zane looked worried but not overcome with pity. Maybe they were downplaying their concern, or maybe they gave him credit for not being made of glass. A smile pulled at his lips without warning, prodded by a sense of humor he wouldn’t have thought he’d recover this quickly.
“The swimsuit hanger might have done us a favor,” he observed.
“Might she?” Zane responded, his mouth curving.
“Piling on the revelations as thick as she did means people won’t know what to poke at first—or who to feel sorry for.” Trey took Zane’s hand and then Rebecca’s, enjoying the easy way their holds twined with his. He made a decision within himself. “I’m not going to worry about us. We’re going to be fine.”
Rebecca looked down at his hand. Hers was small but strong, her cook’s fingers battered but wonderful. When she lifted her gaze, she was smiling.
“I love you,” she said. “Can I be you when I grow up?”
He laughed, his chest suddenly warmer. She’d said the words almost as a joke. Her hint of shyness let him know they were anything but.
“I love you too,” he said. “I love you both.”