Charity frowned. “Everything cool?”
Linda passed a hand over her forehead, which was covered in perspiration. “Fine.” Her palms were damp. “Actually, I’m not feeling so hot.” She had to get away from Charity, from the uncomfortable conversation that threatened to emerge. “Thanks for the offer, but I’m going to sneak in a nap.”
Charity turned from the stovetop, confusion knitting her brow. “What’s the matter?”
“Maybe I caught what Marion has. I don’t know. Sorry.” Linda stood up and wobbled on unsteady feet toward the door. “Really, sorry.”
Charity stepped forward, but Linda was faster backing away. “You don’t have to apologize. Do you need help?” Charity said.
Linda shook her head. “No help.” With that, she turned and left the kitchen.
Pausing on the stairs to her bedroom, her sweating diminished as her heartbeat slowed. She hadn’t felt anything for anyone since her ex—not even Tristan. She’d forgotten how overwhelming it could be. To hope for a touch or a kind word. To feel a wanting in her skin. As she took the first step, Brandon appeared at the top of the stairs.
“Looking pale,” he said. “Something wrong?”
Linda shook her head as she climbed. “Just tired. Didn’t sleep much.”
Brandon made no sign he remembered their altercation. “It wasn’t you crying all night, was it?”
“Nope.” Linda tried to bypass him, but he stuck his hand out.
“I’ve got a proposition for you, Lin.” His grin was monstrous, full of too-white teeth. “What do you say we have a chat?”
“Not interested,” she said, eyeing the path to her room. She’d heard about his come-ons.
“What do you say you step into my room here?” he said.
“What do you say you let me go get some rest?”
Brandon moved his hand away. “Do what you need, I guess. I thought you’d be interested to hear I can make your problems go away.”
Linda’s gaze slid to him. “What do you know about my problems?”
His smile fell as he shrugged one shoulder. “Deja told me everything, of course.”
“And I suppose you want—what? Some kind of sexual favor?”
He let out a quick laugh. “Ha! Nothing so crude. I want you to help me give people something to talk about. A nip slip at the live finale interview. Show the world yours, and I’ll make sure no one finds out about your youthful indiscretions.”
“And my bad credit? Deja said she could clear that up for me.”
“Deja’s a liar,” he said. “But I’m not.”
“What-the-fuck-ever,” Linda said. “You’re no better than she is.”
“But I’m not about to lose my job,” he said.
“And if I refuse?” A sharp cold flowed through her body, but she forced herself to say the thing she’d been wanting to say to him all along. “Your time is coming. Someone’s going to catch you harassing someone soon, you know.
Brandon formed a fist. “Watch yourself. You wouldn’t want your new friend Charity to find out about who you really are, would you?”
The cold fear thickened, settling in her gut. “Fine,” she said, her voice small and defeated. “I’ll be your puppet. You. Deja’s. I’ll do whatever the fuck you want, okay? Just let me go to my room.” Even on her feet, she felt as though she were on her knees. The idea that Charity would never speak to her again was worse than the world knowing her secret. “Don’t tell anyone. Don’t tell her. I’m yours. Jesus fucking Christ. Can I go now?”
Brandon stuck out his hand, and as Linda shook it, she realized she was shaking harder than she’d ever shook before.
• • •
As Brandon went downstairs, Linda closed her door and slid to the floor. Her heart hammered against the back of the door. Her heavy breathing echoed as a knock sounded.
“Go away,” she whispered, then repeated it like a mantra. “Go away, go away—”
“Linda. It’s me.” Charity’s voice drifted through, soothing and sweet.
What if she saw the truth in Linda’s eyes? Did Linda really want to answer? But as though compelled, she stood and let Charity inside. Charity held Linda, one hand wrapped around each of Linda’s lower arms. Linda felt trapped, but it was the kind of trapped that made her feel safe, like a hug or the missionary position. She searched Charity’s face but found no hint Charity had heard anything Brandon said.
Suddenly, she wanted nothing more than to go. Charity’s touch brought to her a surprising clarity. She was being manipulated from all sides, her reputation and her hard-fought new life threatened. She couldn’t trust Deja, whose aim seemed to be making her crack, and now, she couldn’t trust Brandon and his weak promises. Maybe, she thought, if she could go away with Charity right now, she could get ahead of the nightmare. She’d tell her everything, on her own time, on her own turf. “Let’s get out of here,” she said.
Charity looked deep into her eyes. “Why?”
Linda shook her head, then she found she couldn’t stop. “They’re making a villain out of me, Charity. I don’t know how long I can do this.”
“You can do this. I believe in you. All you have to do is watch what you say. Be mindful of every facial expression you make. They’ll cut your sentences together, so refuse to speak whenever you can. Or—”
“I’m afraid I am the villain,” Linda said. It felt freeing to voice the worry. “That it’s like my nature or something.”
“It’s okay,” she repeated. “You’re okay.”
“We have to go,” Linda said, her voice tinged with desperation.
