“I tried to read your book, Toni, but it was too much squiggles. I can’t tell what it says. So I gave it back.”
Toni turned to stare at her sister in disbelief. Birdie had taken her journal? If that was true, how had the tabloid gotten hold of the band’s personal information?
“Where did you get this, Birdie?”
“I found it in your bag at Denver and I hide it in my pocket. Are you mad I taked it?”
“You shouldn’t take things without asking first.”
Birdie frowned. “I sorry. I thought it was a princess story ’cause it’s pink.”
“I’m not mad. Just ask next time you want to borrow something, okay?”
“Okay.”
Toni tried to remember when Birdie had been with her bag in Denver. In the conference room while she’d given her presentation, maybe? That had to be the case.
“Did anyone else read my book, Birdie?”
“No,” she said, tilting her head and shrugging. “Not even me. Toni, you have bad handwriting.”
Toni couldn’t help but laugh. Her handwriting was atrocious. But if Birdie had her journal and no one else had seen it, how had all those stories about Exodus End been leaked?
“Are you sure no one else saw my book, Birdie?”
“I sure. I kept it safe in my secret spot. Can we eat sketties now?”
“Of course.”
Scowling with puzzlement, Toni trailed after Birdie to the kitchen.
“You’ve stopped smiling already,” Grandma remarked to Toni as they sat down to eat. “You’ll get things straightened out with Logan.”
“I hope so,” she said, but that wasn’t what had her picking at her food. She supposed she would have to read the damned tabloid for clues. The only explanation she could come up with was that someone had somehow found the journal in Birdie’s secret spot under her bed. But the only person who could have found it was her mother and Toni could not—would not—believe that her own mother would stoop to that level.
Mom didn’t show up all through dinner or during Birdie’s bedtime routine. Toni was starting to worry that something had happened to her. It wasn’t unusual for her workaholic mother to come home late at night, but Mom knew Toni was awaiting the delivery of her phone. Unable to take the wait any longer, she gave in and called her.
When Mom answered, Toni said, “Why aren’t you home yet? I’ve been imagining you dead in a gutter.”
“I’m on my way,” she said, her voice distant since she spoke through her car’s speakerphone function. “Another half hour or so.”
“Did you remember my phone?”
“Yep.”
“Mom, have you seen my journal?” Toni’s stomach twisted with anxiety as she waited for her response. She knew how desperate her mother was for cash, but surely she wouldn’t sell information to the tabloids.
“Which journal?”
“Pink faux leather cover. Small enough to fit in a pocket.” And with privileged information written inside.
“No idea what you’re talking about. Maybe Birdie has seen it.”
Toni let out a deep breath as relief spread through her body. “I’ll ask her. See you in a bit.”
Grandma had already retired to the guest suite, so Toni retrieved the copy of the tabloid she’d bought at the airport. At the time she hadn’t been sure why she was encouraging the further publication of trash by giving them her money, but now she was glad she’d bought a copy.
Dread weighed heavy on the back of her neck as she sat at her desk, opened the paper, and scanned the first article. There was no doubt that the stories could have been fabricated based on the snippets in her journal, but there was far more information in the articles than she’d written. She’d hardly even mentioned the false rumors of Steve having a homosexual relationship with Zach Mercer, and yet the author of the article had run with that. Another article was about Steve and his ex-wife. A third about Steve’s mystery second wife. Wait? Had she even written about Steve’s second wife in her diary? She didn’t remember doing so. Another article about Steve fooling around with various women.
Why was there such a huge section devoted to Steve?
Toni flipped to the next article. Logan’s troubles with his brother were completely blown out of proportion, making it sound as if he cried nonstop into his pillow over his lost childhood. And poor Reagan. No wonder she’d been so upset. Not only had the article author revealed the nature of her relationship with Trey Mills and Ethan Conner, but he or she had completely trashed Reagan's character and her “novice guitar playing.”