Chapter Twenty-Five
Olivia
“Shayla! Wait!”
I caught up to Shayla in the hall, and she turned to me with a condescending smile. “Don’t bother, Liv. I’m going to Ellen whether you like it or not. Mommy dearest is gonna love this tape.”
I grabbed her arm. “You don’t get it. Please, let me explain.”
She wrinkled her nose. “Explain what?”
“Dec and me…it’s not what you think. I know it looks like I’m having a secret affair with my mom’s husband, but it’s complicated.”
“Complicated? Honey, I know, and I don’t care. I want to win this thing, and this…” She held up the flash drive. “This is gonna help me do that. I couldn’t give a fuck about your little love story.”
“Shayla, please! I get why you’re mad. Dec and I weren’t supposed to be on this show. We weren’t real contestants like you; we didn’t have to try to get on the show like you did. So I get it. You have a right to be pissed at that. But my mom can’t see that tape! It’s not just our relationship with her that’s at stake.”
Shayla smiled. “Yes, I know. Dec’s little sister needs all the money Dec will get from being married to Ellen, right? Or something like that.”
I took a step back, ruffled. “You know about Amelia?”
Shayla narrowed her eyes. “I know pretty much everything about everyone. I’ve done my research.”
“How?” I asked. “I don’t understand how you can possibly know so much!”
She gave me a smug smile. “Doesn’t matter. I don’t care about the ridiculous little details of Dec’s marriage of convenience to Ellen, or whatever. All I care about is winning that prize. I thought I made that clear. And I know Ellen won’t be happy about her own daughter screwing her husband, fake or not.”
Tears filled my eyes, and I sniffed, trying to hold it all back. “How can you do this to people, Shayla? You’re not just helping yourself get ahead. You’re ruining lives. I just don’t understand. You’ve acted like such a good friend. Given me real advice. Good advice. And now you turn around and do this?”
She sneered. “Part of convincing people to trust you involves acting like a decent person, even if it’s not true. So I decided to be a gosh-darn sweet little thing from Alabama. Everyone automatically trusts that.”
My eyes widened. Her Southern accent was suddenly gone. “You…”
“Faked it?” She laughed. “Yes, sugar. People trust the dumb, innocent blonde Southern belle way more than they trust a doctoral candidate from Harvard. But I wanted that money to pay off all my student loans, so I did what had to be done.”
She turned around and made to walk off again. I called out. “Wait! If it’s money you need, I can give you money. I have a bit of a nest egg left over from my grandparents. We can figure something out with that. Please, just don’t give my mom that tape!”
Shayla turned back to me. “Hm…I guess it’s not just about the money,” she said airily. “It’s also about winning. I want to win.”
Then she walked away again, heading for the stairwell. I followed her, still hoping and praying that there was a chance I could get her to change her mind. But deep down, I knew I didn’t really have a shot. Unless Dec could pull something off in the next few seconds, we were screwed. Mom would see the tape and likely get angry enough to cut his family off.
On the third floor, I could see her up ahead, unlocking her office door. She was carrying William’s travel cage, and two crew members were helping her with her bags.
“Ellen!” Shayla called out.
Mom turned her head. “Yes?”
“We need to talk.”
We drew closer. William squawked, and Mom flashed me a puzzled look, then turned her attention back to Shayla. “Can it wait? I literally just got off a plane. I’d like a little—”
“It can’t wait. I need to tell you this right now,” Shayla said.
I twisted my hands helplessly, not saying a word. There was nothing I could do except stand by and watch the impending explosion. Whatever Dec was up to, wherever he was…he was too late to solve this.
For once, he couldn’t save me.
Mom sighed. “Fine,” she said, opening her door and ushering us all in. One of the two staff members put William in his bigger cage on the far side of the office, and the other brought Mom’s bags in. As they did that, Mom sat down behind her desk and raised her brows. “So, Shayla, you have something to tell me?” she said.
“Oh, yes, ma’am.” Shayla affected her fake Southern lilt again. “Yes, I do...”