I rush back to her desk. “Do you know something? Did he say something about me?”
“Oh my. You do have it bad,” she laughs. “Actually, I just thought of another way you could sway Jennifer.”
I plop down in the chair in front of her desk. “Shit.”
“You say it like falling in love is a bad thing.”
“It is.”
“Enjoy it, Vanessa. Picture yourself married to him five years from now. You don't want to look back and realize you missed out on feeling this way because you were being cynical.”
“I saw the movie, Keatyn. You have no room to talk.”
“I was seventeen and had extenuating circumstances.”
“So do I.”
She raises an eyebrow at me.
“We all have baggage,” I simply state.
“Well,” she says with a laugh. “You're over the weight limit. You need to take a bunch of it out, throw it away, and just take a carry-on with you.”
“When was the last time you flew commercial?” I ask her.
“Like, never. Okay, I was probably ten.”
“Exactly, which means you know I can take as many damn bags as I want.”
“But do you need them?” she says softly.
“What do you mean?”
“Neither of you need the baggage anymore.”
“How is it in one sentence you've managed to sum up everything my shrink has been trying to tell me for the past year?” I ask.
“Because I know how freeing it is when all the baggage disappears. Pretend Dawson is an impulse trip. Like we just decided to go to Italy, right now, and we’ll buy everything we need once we get there. Have you thought anymore about selling the house?”
I sigh. “I can't sell it, Keatyn, it's so beautiful.”
“It's like living in a museum. Have you ever curled up on the living room couch and marathon-watched movies? Only getting up to pee or get more snacks?”
“Um, no. I have a huge home theater. Why would I do that?”
She frowns at me and seems to change tactics when she asks, “Do you like the decor we chose for Dawson's beach house? Or were you too busy having sex to notice?”
“I noticed,” I say, rolling my eyes. “It's beautiful. So comfortable and inviting.”
She holds her hands up, gesturing that I just answered my own question.
“Fine. I’ll think about it,” I agree, getting up to leave. “Wait, you were gonna tell me something about Jennifer.”
“Oh, that's right. I was just thinking about her ex, Parker Hudson. He’s a little shit. I really can’t believe he leaked all sixty-one photos.”
“He probably got a lot of money for them. And since she freely sent them to him, she has no legal recourse. It worked out well for us though. You know other photos would have come out, but they would have trickled out day by day. Parker shot his wad all at once. No one could ever suggest we planted them.”
“Right. And once everyone believes Vegas was the Sinner’s Party, there's no reason you couldn’t let it leak that Jennifer purposely sent them to him. That she was acting—pretending to be drunk—because she knew he would be an asshole and sell them.”
“So, one point for Jennifer. In the scheme of things, that doesn’t really help, does it?”
Keatyn hands me an envelope. “A good friend delivered this to me today. I’ve been trying to decide what to do with it.”
I pull the photo out and quickly shut my eyes. “Oh! You could have warned me they were having sex in the picture. Mentally prepared me.”
“I didn’t want to prepare you. I wanted it to shock you just like it will shock Parker’s fans. I’ve never heard a single rumor about him playing for both teams. And look closer at the photo. It’s not just gay sex. It's a full blown gay orgy.”
“Where the hell did you get this?”
“I’m afraid I can’t reveal my source.”
“Which means, Sander,” I surmise, based on the fact she is still close to the actor, who she dated in high school well before he came out of the closet. “I’m really surprised Sander would give you this. He didn't come out of the closet until a few years ago.”
“Whoever sent this to me believes that it doesn't matter what Parker’s sexual orientation is. The guy’s a dick. He suggested showing it to Parker as a means of persuading him to admit to the press that he shared Jennifer’s photos because he's an asshole, and to ensure he doesn’t give her any more shit.”
“That's sorta blackmail. I'm shocked, Keatyn.”
“We're persuading him to be nice to one person. I'd hardly call that blackmail.”
“Should we show Jennifer?”
“No, I think she's had enough for the last twenty-four hours.”
“You must be talking about me,” Knox says, knocking on Keatyn’s door. “Just want to let you know we are finished with the photo shoot. Unless you two need me for anything else, I'm going home and sleeping for the next twelve hours straight. I think I caught a cold in Vegas.”
“You're lucky if that’s all you caught,” I tease.
“I didn't fuck anyone in Vegas but Jennifer,” he says, offended.