Page 64 of Spin Control

Albrecht chuckles and Marcus huffs a laugh, but Elizabeth narrows her eyes. I hold my breath, wondering if she’s going to call me on my bullshit. But she says, “From what I can glean, this is the first break anyone has had in a while and only one journalist knows about it. But the fact that someone out there sent the video means they want the information to go wide.”

Silence descends on the room as everyone processes what this might mean. Who might have the video. And why they would want a journalist to implicate me.

27

“You have got to be fucking kidding me,” Chalondra says when I finish telling her about my falling out with Jane.

I may have conveniently left out what happened between me and Wes. No one needs to know about D.C. Or Cape Cod. Or how I took a walk to clear my head after a frustrating meeting the other day and ended up in a luxury store, standing in front of the fragrance section and inhaling lungfuls of the sandalwood and cinnamon scent that has faded from Wes’s Red Sox hat. Lord knows if I had included those details, Chalondra’s emphasis would have been on “fucking” rather than “kidding.”

“Nope,” I say, popping the “p”—a sure sign that I need to put the cocktail down and switch to water.

“I’m so sorry, Elizabeth,” she says. “Genuinely. I hate this for you. And I want better for your sister.”

I nod, but Jane’s words about how she wished I could respect her continue to echo in my ears. I never considered that disliking her husband means that I’m disrespecting her.

“Do you think she has a point?” I ask. “Am I a bad sister?”

“I can see how she thinks she’s protecting her peace,” Chalondra says, and I examine that, even though all it makes me want to do is book a session at one of those places where you go into a room and break things. “But you are not a bad sister. You want what’s best for Jane. And sure, sometimes we can overlook things people we love want even when we know they aren’t what’s best for them. Lipstick colors. The cut of jeans they prefer. Bangs. But a man? Ain’t no way in hell I’d stay quiet about that.”

I smile, but the doubt lingers. “Do you think I should have at least gotten over how much I hate Todd by now?”

“The way I see it, you tolerate him the best you can. It’s not like you stood up and objected at the wedding.” I don’t tell her that I seriously considered it. “You caught him in a situation that seemed compromising. Should you have taken the initiative to tell Jane about it? Probably. But are you wrong to be skeptical of Todd? I don’t think so.”

I tip the rest of the drink into my mouth, vowing not to order another. “I just wish I knew how to fix it.”

“I think this is a situation where time is the only solution.”

“Of course it has to be one of the only things in the universe I can’t control.”

Chalondra barks out a laugh. “Girl, if anyone could figure it out, it’d be you.”

“If only that were true,” I mutter, thinking of all the things I can’t seem to control at all.

“So, hey,” she says in a serious tone. “I saw something the other day that I can’t stop thinking about.”

I arch a brow. “Well that sounds intriguing.”

“I left a meeting on Thursday and realized I had forgotten my phone, so I went back to the conference room. One of the broadcast directors was sitting by himself.” Chalondra pauses and looks around before leaning in. “He was reading an email from Frederick Norton, Jr.”

My eyebrows shoot up all the way to my hairline. “Freddie’s dad?”

“Mhmm.”

Marcus said he knows Freddie’s dad well—it sounded like they went way back. “Did you read the email?”

“No. But I did see the email subject line. It said, ‘Favor’.”

“Huh,” I say, sitting back in my chair.

“Exactly,” Chalondra says. “It could be totally above board, but I thought it was odd that a driver’s father was emailing a broadcast director. And since it’s related to Martine, I thought you should know.”

“I appreciate that.”

Chalondra smiles. “Anytime. Now that that’s over with, what do you say we go order fries to soak up all this alcohol?”

“I think you mean chips,” I quip.

“Do not let them get to you,” she says. “Not on Fourth of July weekend.”