what he was saying and just now remembered. “Secondly, if the added weight creates bad press, then you must help me deal with it.”
“Ty, I’m a size six—sometimes eight depending on the brand. In what world would that create bad press? I have curves, not diabetes. What is wrong with you?”
As if I’d slapped him across the face, his mouth opened and closed, shock rendering him speechless. Finally, he shook it off and took a small step back. “I apologize, Tasha. That wasn’t what I meant. I, in no way, believe that there is anything wrong with your body. I just know how ugly the media can be, and I’m simply trying to minimize that threat. We already have so much to deal with as it is without adding a few extra pounds.”
I believed him. It was clear he meant what he said, which allowed me to relax a little. I was never bothered by my appearance—well, other than when I was compared to my sister—but it seemed I was now in a whole new world.
“So can you get me those things or not?” I asked with my arms crossed, giving him a taste of his own medicine.
“Yeah, that’s fine. I’ll send someone out in a bit. But if I do, that means you must practice walking in those heels. No one will believe that you’re Tiffany Lewis if you can’t walk perfectly in pumps. She’s a runway model for Christ’s sake.”
“I know, I know. Fine. I’ll practice.”
“Good, and don’t forget, the hairdresser and makeup artist will be here in an hour. They’ve both signed the NDA, but they don’t know why. All you need to do is stay quiet; they’ve been instructed not to ask any questions. Got it?”
I just had to breathe and remind myself of the money.
All that money.
2
Jacoby
“There’s been a lot of movement going on next door. Any idea what they’re doing over there?”
I set down the glass of milk and stared at my sister while she peered through her kitchen window like a peeping Tom. “How would I know?” I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand then slapped the table to get her attention. “More importantly, why would I care?”
Jessa shrugged before taking my glass to the sink. “All the women in the neighborhood love you. I didn’t know if maybe one of them told you what was going on.”
She was right. The women who lived around here were a little sweet on me, but that was because they were all much older—most were at least sixty, which was twice my age—and I helped them with their yardwork when they needed it. It wasn’t like we all sat around Old Doris’s kitchen table drinking coffee and spilling tea.
“Sorry to burst your bubble, but I don’t know anything.” I only knew who Jessa spoke of because Tiffany Lewis’s name was on everyone’s lips when she’d first moved in. Granted, I’d never heard of the woman before she bought the house next door, but from what I’d learned about her, I wasn’t much of a fan.
“I heard she’s going to be on the next season of Bored Housewives, Santa Maria edition.”
I leaned back in the chair and regarded my sister. I’d never been able to figure her out. It was impossible to tell if she was interested in something or not because she used the same tone, facial expression, and body language for things she was into as well as things she didn’t care about.
“Is that really what the show’s called?” I asked, only slightly interested in the answer.
“No, but it should be.” She dried the glass I’d used for my morning milk and put it in the cabinet. She’d been taking care of me since we were little. It seemed that was a trait she’d never grow out of.
Just then, the doorbell rang. Jessa left the room, only to come back a minute later with a box in her arms. “Can you take this next door, please? The delivery guy was already in his truck by the time I got outside.”
“Why don’t you do it? It’ll give you the perfect excuse to snoop.”
She set the box on the table in front of me and rolled her eyes. “Because I have things to do, Jacoby. That’s why.”
That wasn’t why, but she would never admit it.
The truth was, we’d been through our fair share of issues growing up, and the last thing she wanted was to find her name back in the press. I didn’t