like to see him putting you first,” said Jax, reaching out to push a long strand of jet-black hair behind her sister’s shoulder.
“He does. Don’t worry about me and Thatcher. We’re practically a done deal, big sister.” She waggled her bare ring finger and grinned at Jax. “And listen, J.C. asked for a ride, but he’s still sleeping, so he’s on his own. If he’s too hungover, call him a cab when he finally wakes up, huh?”
“No problem. Sure you don’t want to stay for another couple of hours? We could have lunch.”
“Rain check? I had this idea: a new program I could offer the kids, and I wanted to spend a little time working on a plan to present to Harvey.”
Madeleine Rousseau worked as a librarian in the Children’s Department of the Philadelphia Free Library, and she was always trying to come up with new and innovative programs to offer to the children of Philadelphia.
“What is it this time?” asked Jax. “And how can I help?”
“Music and Movement was such a success for the toddlers…I was thinking we should offer a similar class to grade-school kids after school this fall. It could even be a drop-off. Public schools keep cutting the arts, and I just…” Mad grinned. “I’m on my soapbox again.”
“But you look so gorgeous standing up there,” teased Jax.
Mad rolled her eyes. “I need to do some research, figure out the costs, find someone to lead it…”
“You know you’re just going to end up paying for it again.”
“I will if I have to.” Mad shrugged. “I have millions, Jax.”
It was true. They all had millions. All four Rousseau children had trust funds that amounted to approximately twenty-five million dollars apiece, and three of the four siblings augmented it in their own way—Étienne and J.C. with their company, The Rousseau Trust, and Jax with a recent movie she’d produced to great acclaim. Mad was the exception. She was far better at giving her money away.
“You’re going to go bankrupt someday,” said Jax, hooking her arm through her sister’s and walking her down the stairs to a cute red BMW convertible.
“Then I’ll rush to my rich sister and beg her to take me in.”
Jax grinned at Mad with love. “She will, you know. She always will.”
“I know,” said Mad, stopping by her car and leaning forward to kiss Jax on the cheek. “How’s the eye?”
Jax shrugged. It ached less today, but the bruising looked worse.
“Jax, now that you’re back, why don’t you think about getting a place in the city? We could find a co-op with great security. We could—”
“No,” she said, her voice clipped and final. “I prefer it here.”
Becoming a movie producer had changed Jax’s entire life, and not, unfortunately, in a good way.
She’d grown up with magazines like Philadelphia Today and Town & Country taking pictures of her and her family, of course, and had become accustomed to seeing her picture in the newspaper society pages from time to time. But she hadn’t been prepared for the sort of exposure that producing a movie or winning an Academy Award would generate. Suddenly, she couldn’t leave her Beverly Hills apartment without gossip rags and entertainment magazines taking an interest in her too, and it was a different kind of paparazzi than the gentle, respectful kind she’d been used to back in Philly.
They waited for her outside of the studio, their cameras clicking, shooting rapid-fire questions at her about her love life, sex life, and future movies as she drove from the safety of the electric gates onto the street. They took pictures of her coming out of the grocery store and harassed her friends for information about her. In Star Tracks and Listen Up! they commented on her hair and clothes, speculated about her love interests, and made up stories about her life. If she wasn’t smiling, she was bitchy. If she looked thin, she was anorexic. If she bought ice cream, she was depressed. If she was talking to a man, she was getting engaged…or dumped. Every word she said on Facebook or Twitter had been analyzed and dissected—until she’d stopped posting altogether and closed her accounts.
Overnight she’d lost her privacy and had only been able to reclaim it by packing up her things, selling her apartment in California, and returning to the safety of Le Chateau, where she’d found solace and protection in its exclusive neighborhood setting, high gates, and state-of-the-art security system.
Jax looked over her shoulder at the yellow-colored stone mansion with thirty shiny