On the flight back to Seattle, sitting in Zander’s private jet, Effie alternated between numb and hysterical. She huddled on one of the plush leather seats near the front, unable to tear her eyes from the phone screen.
Her social media was rapidly being populated with cutting remarks, sexual invitations, snarky comments, and outright bully tactics. Several men offered to “friend” her on her social profile and buy her dinner in exchange for sex. She declined each one. Some of her classmates, who she’d once friended out of desperation as not to feel like a total loser with only one friend, accused her of being a gold-digger. Others said she was too lazy to work for her education. She un-friended them. A few rebels asked for info about the next sugar baby party, saying they’d sure like a sugar daddy.
Unfriend, unfriend, unfriend.
Haley, bless her, kept up an ongoing rant against those who wished Effie harm or accused her of “using the system,” whatever that meant. She tried comebacks like, Oh, come on. You know how much our education costs. Give Effie a break. Then, she finally resorted to Fuck off. Hypocrite. Get a life. You’d do it if you were pretty enough.
Zander spoke to Kent on the phone. He hid at the far end of the jet, in an office with the door closed. He probably thought she couldn’t hear him.
She wished she couldn’t hear him. His stressed-out voice boomed over the engine noise.
“So, how are our stocks? Holding steady?”
A pounding sound, like a solid thwack against wood with his high-tech-hand, made Effie jerk.
“Fuck! We’re dropping? This is so fucking stupid. My private life is my business. Yeah? And who the fuck leaked our secret? Has it come out yet?” An eerie silence, like the calm before the storm, snaked through the plane. An explosive clatter followed, like Zander had swept the desk of everything it held.
“Who do you think is responsible for this? It’s got to be Trisha.” He listened for a few seconds then said, “Keep me posted. Do whatever you can to quash it. I don’t care how much it costs, do you hear me? Stop the fucking story. Okay. Right. Right. Okay. Later.” The office door slid open and he stalked out of the office. “I’m sorry for all the calls. My business is collapsing.” He eyed the device in her hand. “You should stop looking at your phone.”
She gazed at him, trying hard not to cry. She’d been teased most of her life. But, it was one thing to be called a geek and a brain case. Most of the time, that kind of insult rolled off her back. But to call me a gold-digger? A manipulative user? Too lazy to work for my education? People can be horrible.
Zander stared blankly into space, his lips parted. He blinked, emerging from his trance and his forefinger flew across his mobile phone screen. Then, he held the phone to his ear. “Bryant. Where’s Trisha? Let me speak to her.” He held the phone away from his face and stared at it. “You fucking hung up on me? You asshole.” He punched the wall of the jet with his bio-hand. It made a dull clanging noise. “Fuck!”
Effie had never seen Zander so angry. Her stomach flipped and flopped like a writhing, dying beast.
He looked over at her, anguish etching fissures in his face. “Look. Effie. A, um, a story’s going to come out…” He paused, massaging his cheeks with his hand. “I’ve got to keep you safe. That’s paramount. I’m going to hire security to watch you.”
A cascade of chills rippled across her scalp. “Security?” she whispered. “What for?”
He paced to where she sat and opened his mouth to speak when his phone rang again. He held up one finger to her as he answered the phone, striding in the opposite direction.
“What?” he blurted into the device.
Effie’s ring tone sounded. She glanced down at the screen. My mother. No way am I going to answer that. She turned off the phone and slumped in her seat, hugging herself. Tears began to pour from her eyes. This is awful. And what’s this story?
She closed her eyes, lay her head back against the cushy headrest, and silently wept.
A warm body—Zander—sat next to her. He pushed one arm behind her neck. The other wrapped around her torso. “Don’t cry, baby. This will all blow over. It’s just a setback.”
His words didn’t sound convincing.
She opened her eyes and stared at him. “Don’t you get it? This is my worst nightmare. Being found out. Being exposed. You should hear what people are saying about me. It’s awful.”
“Shh,” Zander said. He smoothed her messy hair away from her face and gazed into her eyes. “We’ll get through this. Don’t worry. I’m sorry you had to see me rage. I don’t usually lose my cool like that.” He kissed away her tears.
“You have your own woes. Is your business going to be okay?” Effie sob-spoke. “And what’s this story?”
“Don’t you worry about me,” Zander said, ignoring the question about the story. “You met my dad. I come from sturdy stock.” He smiled.
Effie chuckled through her tears. “Right. He looks like a tough guy. Like that tattoo on his arm of a buxom babe inside a race car. Your mom must have been upset when he got that tattoo.”
Zander laughed, letting a glimmer of lightness drift into the room. “Who do you think the babe is? It’s Mom in her younger days. She was quite a looker.” He kissed the tip of her nose. “But, she doesn’t hold a candle to you.” He thumbed away her tears. His ringtone sounded again. “Let me see who that is. I’ll be back, promise.” After thumbing the screen, he put the phone to his ear and said, “Tom. Talk to me.”
Effie hunched into herself and stayed quiet the rest of the way, shut-down, empty and alone while Zander fought his fires. At one point, she wandered to the bedroom and lay down. There, she dozed fitfully on the red-eye flight home.
In the waxing light of dawn, she awoke, her eyes swollen, her mouth dry, and her heart as heavy as stone.
Zander sat in one of the chairs near the bed, holding his head in his hands.
In a groggy voice, she said, “Did you get any sleep?”
He lifted his head and flashed her a sorrowful gaze. “No. This thing has gone viral. The story is everywhere. It’s taken on epic proportions, moving backward in time. Now I’m the philanderer who’s stepping out on my loving girlfriend, Trisha, with the…” He rolled his lips between his teeth and shook his head.
“With the what?” Effie said, sitting forward.
“It’s nothing. It’s all lies.” He rose as if to walk away. “We’re going to touch down soon. Let’s get buckled up, okay?” He spoke in a robotic tone.
“With the what, Zander? Tell me.” Her whole body set on fire with anger and a sense of injustice. She clenched her hands.
“I’d rather not say,” he said, wearily.
“I’d rather not be in this situation. Tell me,” Effie said, blinking back tears of rage.
“With the, um…” He looked away. “With the hashtag Giant Box Savings whore. It’s all lies, you know that.”
His eyes met hers with dark ferocity.
“Oh, God,” she said, letting her head fall back. “How do they know where my parent’s work?”
“Someone dug. I’ve tried all my channels to get the story squashed, but it’s already trending like wildfire.”
Her forehead furrowed. “So, that’s the story you wanted quashed? About me?”
A dark look shadowed his features and he looked away. “Not exactly, no.”
“So, what’s the story? Is it out yet?” She swung her legs off the bed.
“No. I think we’re good.” He let out a heavy sigh.
“Define ‘good,’” she said.
Her clothes were thoroughly crumpled. Her hair hung in knots around her face. She grabbed her brush as she walked past her suitcase and strode into the main cabin, not caring whether Zander sat by her or not.
He talked to someone in a low voice. When he emerged from the bedroom, he said, “I’ve got to get straight to the office when we land. I’ll take a cab. Antonio can take you straight to your dorm. Stay there until I line up security for you.”
Chills danced along her spine. “Zander, you’re scaring me. Why do I need security?”
“It’s just a precaution,” he said, putting his palm toward her. “You saw what Trisha’s capable of. I don’t want anything to happen to you.”
“What are you afraid she’ll try?”
“Just stay put in your dorm. I’ll get it all sorted, I promise.”
She started to ask him another question with the pilot’s voice crackled into the air.
“Mr. King, we’re landing in about fifteen minutes. Please buckle up.”
Zander nodded.
“Zander, I…” Effie began, but his phone rang again.
As the jet descended, she hunched in her seat, half-listening to Zander’s heated conversations.
She barely acknowledged the next thirty minutes. She numbly walked by Zander’s side toward the limo.
When they approached the vehicle, Antonio, his face a grim mask, said, “Mr. King. Ms. D’Archangel.”
“I’m taking a cab to the office. Make sure she gets to her room at the college. Walk with her and make sure she’s inside her dorm with the doors locked before you leave, understood?”
“You got it, boss,” Antonio said.
Effie stepped inside the roomy car, letting it swallow her up in its safe, shielded interior. Cancel that. This car is part of the mess I’m in.
Zander stood outside, next to the door. “Dorm room. Stay put. Got it?”
She nodded.
Zander gently closed the door. He remained standing, his hands on his hips, watching the car disappear.
As Antonio shepherded her back to reality, she stared, listlessly, at her surroundings.
Her phone dinged for the millionth time. She thought about ignoring it, but her fingers and eyes didn’t listen to her brain. She unlocked the screen.
Effie, Haley texted. This story is sick. A link followed.
As Effie read the article, a sick, lurching feeling rocked her insides. “No, no, no. This can’t be right.” Her eyes rapidly scanned the story.
“Exclusive! The details of EXcape owner Zander King’s stormy relationship with Trisha Banks are about to be revealed. Buckle up and hang on for the ride. Our sources say he tried, without success, to escape the dramatic lure of Banks. He couldn’t stay away. To retaliate, or maybe just for fun, he slept with her mother. I mean, come on, King…couldn’t you just say no to Banks? You had to prey on a cougar?”
The story continued. But the words blurred before Effie’s eyes. He fucked her mother?