Oh shit, I didn’t think of that.
Rhys nodded, slipping into a smooth and charming British accent. “Our blog is called Kläder. It’s new.”
“That’s Swedish, right?” Jazz beamed. “It’s such a great language. Talar du svenska?”
Wow. Didn’t expect that.
“We don’t actually speak the language, unfortunately, but it’s fascinating that you do.” Rhys took out his phone and pressed record. “What other languages do you speak?”
Good save, Rhys.
“When you travel as much as I do, you pick up phrases here and there.” She counted on her fingers. “I speak a little Swedish, Finnish, French, Spanish, German, Italian and Chinese. I’m trying to learn Japanese right now, but it’s, like, totally hard.”
I tried not to gape at her. I hate smart people who also happen to be so beautiful, they damn near sparkle. It’s not fair to the rest of us mere mortals. Honestly, the photos I saw of her didn’t do her justice. Her smile was warm and genuine, and her eyes said, “You have my full attention and you are my friend.”
“Besides being able to travel the world,” I said, “what’s your favorite thing about being a model?”
Jazz pulled all her brown curls over one shoulder. “Sometimes we get to keep the clothes after the show. I’ve also been able to meet the most amazing people in the few years I’ve been doing this.” She studied my outfit. “I’m obsessed with that dress. Both of you are so fucking cute, I can’t even stand it.”
I laughed. “Thanks! That’s quite the compliment coming from you.”
Rhys nodded along. “You’re not too bad yourself.”
Excuse me, what? No, do not make eye contact with Rhys. Do not look at him. Stay in character.
“Are you guys, like, together?” Jazz said. “I saw you kissing earlier.”
“We’re in an open relationship,” I said quickly before Rhys could answer for us. “We’re modern adults. Just casual and open.”
Rhys looked at me, and I avoided eye contact. I had a plan. Well, half a plan. Maybe, like, a solid third of a plan. Kind of.
A server came by with some wine, and we each took a glass and chatted for a while, sometimes about her career, sometimes not.
“I couldn’t help but notice you have a diamond ring on a very important finger,” I said after finishing my glass. “You want to tell us about that?”
Jazz looked at the ring, as if she forgot it was even there. “Oh, this thing? I just wear this to ward off creeps at parties and stuff. That’s off the record, by the way.”
“Noted,” Rhys said, looking at me. “Do you have any comments on Ezra Lamond, your ex-fiancé? This is off the record too.”
She slipped her hand behind her neck and moved her bundle of curls to her other shoulder. “It was a quiet breakup. We’re both fine. We’re still friends,” she said calmly but quickly. “It was just too hard with me traveling all the time, and he wanted kids right away, and I don’t even want kids. Yuck.” She stuck her tongue out, giggled and finished the rest of her wine.
Ezra wanted to settle down? That’s not quite the impression I got from him.
“You guys are two of the coolest people I’ve met at a runway party,” Jazz added. “You’re just so chill and, like, real. A lot of people at these things are so fake.”
Wow. Not a good judge of character, huh? Unless everyone else at these parties is even faker than we are.
“This might be a little, I dunno, forward or whatever,” Jazz smiled coquettishly, “but do you guys want to come over for a drink at my hotel room? We can finish the interview or smoke some weed, whatever you guys are into.”
Her mouth said ‘casual hangout’ but her eyes said something quite different.
I looked at Rhys. He mostly just looked alarmed at the invitation, blinking wide-eyed at me and not speaking.
“That sounds fun,” I said, trying to play it cool. “What do you think, Arlo?”
Rhys swallowed. “Shhhhure.”
While Jazz hugged a few friends goodbye, Rhys grabbed my hand. “What are we doing exactly?”
“I genuinely have no idea.” Stupid, delicious wine.
“Because I’m not one hundred percent sure,” he said, “but I think we may have just agreed to have a threesome with a supermodel.”
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Jazz’s hotel room was pretty impressive, especially compared to the one Rhys and I were staying in. Where we had dirty, stained carpet, Jazz had marble floors. Where we had a lumpy mattress and a creaky bed frame, she had a soft king-sized bed under a canopy. Where we had a tiny window with a view of a dirty alleyway, Jazz had a wide picture window with a view of the city for miles.
Yeah, you could say I was jealous. The chaotic mess of the room helped me feel less intimidated by her though. Dresses and jeans and bras and underwear and tank tops and T-shirts were strewn from one side of the room to the other. A couple of empty wine bottles were scattered throughout, usually near to an empty wine glass with a red stain coating the inside.
“Have a seat,” Jazz said, skipping past us to grab the half-empty bottle of wine, a collection of pill bottles scattered around it, from her nightstand.
God, that is depressing. Either that or it’s ultra-glamorous and I just can’t tell the difference.
Rhys and I exchanged looks as we scoured the room for a place to sit. We awkwardly shifted some piles of fashion magazines and some clothes from the sofa to the floor and sat there. With my knees together and back straight, I was painfully aware of how uncool I must seem to Jazz.
Our stunning hostess splashed some red wine into two glasses and handed them to us. She sat cross-legged on the floor in front of us, holding the wine bottle by the neck. I glanced at Rhys, who was trying desperately not to look at Jazz’s fully visible underwear.
Jazz took a sip from the bottle. “What else did you want to ask me?”
Rhys pulled his phone out and pressed record again. “If you weren’t a model, what do you think you’d be doing?”
She took another sip as she considered her answer. “Astronaut.”
Rhys and I laughed.
“I’m not joking,” she said, eyes wide with enthusiasm. “We did this photo shoot in a zero gravity chamber, and it was so fun until I puked. I could get used to it though. I just wish the space suits were a little more flattering, you know?”
Wow.
Rhys plastered on his best fake smile. “What would your third option be, career-wise?”
Jazz nodded, thinking. “Party planner.”
See, that makes more sense.
“Is it hard to keep friendships when you’re traveling all the time?” I asked.
She gave a half nod. “Sometimes. I have friends who are models, but that’s about it.” She shrugged and took a big gulp. “Friendships are overrated anyway.”
We chatted a bit longer, her cheeks becoming pinker as the juice in her wine-bottle-shaped sippy cup ran low.
“I have to pee so bad,” she said with a giggle, struggling to get to her feet. She gave up and crawled on her hands and knees to the bathroom, not quite shutting the door all the way before pulling her underwear down.
“Oh god,” I said, pulling the door shut behind her.
I’d barely touched my glass of wine, because I’d already had too much that evening. Rhys picked up the empty bottle from the floor and carefully poured his wine back into it, then the wine from my glass.
“I’m not doing this,” Rhys whispered as he put the cork back in the bottle. “I don’t feel right about this.”
“Do you actually feel guilty? That’s never stopped you before,” I replied. “We’ll just wait until she passes out, and then we’ll slip the ring off and go.”
Rhys’s shoulders fell, and his lips tightened. “I didn’t mean that. I meant the … the…” He pointed to me, himself and the bathroom door. “That. I don’t want to do that. I don’t want to have sex with anyone but you.”
He slid the wine bot
tle behind the edge of the sofa and took his seat beside me again. I slid my hand into his and smiled at him. He smiled back at me, caressing my knuckle with his thumb.
The bathroom door flew open, and Jazz stood in the doorway, posing giddily in just a matching bra and underwear set.
“Oh dear,” Rhys said, eyes as wide as I’ve ever seen them.
She reached behind the door, pawing at something from the sink. “Look what I found in here!” She held up a silver monogrammed flask and took a sip.
She stumbled to her purse, found her phone and sat on the floor again. “You guys! I got a text from Alexei.”
“Who is Alexei? Friend of yours?” I watched her on the floor, hoping she wouldn’t notice the half bottle of wine a few feet from her.
Although if she did, it would make our job easier and quicker.
“I looooove hiiiiim,” she sing-songed. “He’s coming to Milan tomorrow and wants to seeeeee me.”
“How does he feel about you wearing that engagement ring?” Rhys glanced at me as he asked the question.
“Alexei knows it’s just a stupid prop,” she slurred. “Don’t even worry about it.” She tossed her phone aside and crawled toward the sofa.
“I’m getting sleepy, you guys,” she said. “Let’s have a nap together.” She reached her arms up and wiggled her hands. We helped her get off the floor and moved her in the general direction of her bed. She fell into the luxurious comforter and pulled it around herself, maneuvering herself to the middle.
“You sit here and you sit here,” she said, patting each side of her.
Rhys and I exchanged glances and did as we were told. I sat on the edge of the bed, hands folded on my lap, while Rhys sat on top of the sheet, his arms crossed tightly over his chest.
Jazz snuggled closer to Rhys, nuzzling her nose against his whiskery cheek, resting her hand on his chest.
Back the fuck off, whore. No, be cool, Molly. Stay in character.
Rhys looked at me over the top of Jazz’s head and mouthed, “Help.”
“Hey, Jazz,” I said, lying down on the bed, facing away from her. “You be the big spoon.”
She sleepily rolled over and curled up tight against me, her arm draped over my middle.
“Arlo, you spoon me now,” she said, whispering in my ear but talking to Rhys.
I felt Rhys adjust his position on the bed and put his arm around the both of us. A minute later, Jazz giggled softly and reached behind her, her hand slipping between she and Rhys.
“Why, hello there, Arlo,” she whispered, her sweet voice seamlessly turning sultry. “Nice to meet you too.”
Oh. My. GOD.
Rhys immediately slid off the bed and grabbed the bottle of wine from near the couch. “Hey, look. Wine.”
Jazz squealed with delight, snatched it from him and gulped it like a thirsty little kid.
Rhys pulled at his, um, tighter-than-before tight pants, glaring at Jazz as she drank. He looked at me, shook his head and gave a big shrug.
Accidental boners happen. It doesn’t mean anything. It’s biology. Don’t read too much into this.
It’s not like he wants to sleep with a supermodel or anything.
Jazz fell back into her pile of pillows and eventually fell asleep. For someone who looked so angelic while sleeping, she snored louder than I’ve ever heard anyone snore before. Rhys reached for her right hand, the diamond ring sparkling under the hotel room lights.
“No, wait,” I whispered. I looked down at her, suddenly hating this poor lonely girl’s goddamn guts. “Hey, are you awake?” I said softly.
She didn’t stir.
Rhys clapped his hands together loudly, directly behind her head. No response. I nodded to Rhys, and he straightened out her ring finger, carefully spreading her fingers apart. I slowly and smoothly slid the ring down her finger and over her knuckle. I slid it into my pocket and we bolted for the door.
All of that, and the thing that woke Jazz up was the sound of the door opening.
“Are you leaving me?” She raised her head off the pillow and squinted at us. “Where you guys going?”
Rhys hesitated. “We’re going to get some ice. We’ll be right back.”
“Cool.” She dropped her head back down and fell asleep instantly.
We jogged down the fire escape and out the back exit, avoiding as many sets of eyes as possible.
Back at our hotel, which now seemed even scummier than it had before, I lay on my stomach on the bed, closely inspecting the massive diamond ring. A tiny inscription on the inside of the band made me hate Ezra even more: For the finest fox I know.
“Ugh. Gross,” I said.
Rhys pulled his PJ pants on and sat on the edge of the bed. “That was a weird night.”
“Yup.”
And then I remembered that he’d become aroused from lying next to another woman. My whole body tensed up at the thought.
I slipped the ring into my travel bag and got ready for bed. Instead of snuggling up to Rhys, I got under the sheets and faced away from him.
“Are you okay?” He rolled over behind me and spooned me, pulling me tight to him.
Just like he’d spooned Jazz.
“I’m fine. Just tired.”
Rhys rolled away and sighed. “Oh, for Pete’s sake. This is about earlier when Jazz put her hand on my crotch.”
“She wouldn’t have done that if Rhys Junior hadn’t been acting up,” I snapped, glaring at him over my shoulder.
“I’m a straight male who had been drinking, and I was in bed cuddling with two very sexy women, one of which who was strongly suggesting a threesome.” He sat up and crossed his arms over his chest. “I’m a guy. Of course part of me would get excited by that. So, yeah. It happened.”
I sat up. “So you do think she’s sexy.”
“Of course she is. She’s a supermodel,” he said slowly. “But I wouldn’t sleep with her.”
“Are you sure about that? I totally wouldn’t blame you if you did,” I said. “She is very hot.”
“She also has some serious self-confidence issues.” He narrowed his eyes. “Are you trying to pick a fight with me? Because I think you are, and I don’t know why.”
“No. I’m not.”
“It kiiinda seems like you are,” he said, using his annoyingly cheeky voice. “I’ve had a lot of women mad at me. A lot. And they use the same voice you’re using right now.”
“Yes,” I hissed, “I know, you’ve fucked thousands of women—”
“Are you jealous? Is that what this is about?”
Yes.
“No—”
“You won’t even say how you feel about me but at the same time, you get weird when that—” He gestured to his pelvis “—happens!”
I paused, my throat tightening. “You brought me to a wedding when we hadn’t even decided what our relationship is or how it’s going to work. You introduced me to your parents, for fuck’s sake. I can’t just rush into shit like you can.”
Rhys looked away from me. “I didn’t know they were going to be there,” he said quietly. “I’m sorry I made you uncomfortable.”
We were both quiet for a while. Rhys turned off the light and lay under a sheet in the dark, leaving about a foot of space between us in the bed.
“We have nothing in common besides our jobs. I love working with you,” I said. “I’m scared that’s going to vanish when everything goes to shit.”
“Why do you assume that will happen?”
“Because nothing lasts. I’m being realistic. You think just because you’ve had a perfect life and your parents are perfect and you’re perfect and you’ll look like Jon Hamm in fifteen years that everything will work out like you want. But it won’t.”
I rolled over, facing away from him.
“Jon Hamm?” Rhys said into the darkness. “You really think so?”
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Rhys’s phone buzzed aggressively on the nightstand, eventually humming so hard that it fell of
f the edge and bounced on the filthy, disgusting carpet.
Our luxurious hotel rooms come complete with ensuite baths and a high chance of spreading foot fungal bacteria. Enjoy your stay!
Or at least that’s what it sounded like. I couldn’t actually see the phone from my spot on the other side of the bed, perched at the very edge to limit my chances of touching Rhys during the night.
Groaning, he yawned and pawed around for his phone.
He thumbed through his notifications. “Any interest in going to Amsterdam today?”
I peered at him over my shoulder. “What? Why?”
Rhys handed me his phone and put his head back down on the pillow. I wiped my eyes and read the email on the screen.
Dad woke up. Flying to Amsterdam tomorrow. -E
It was an email from Ezra to a female relative, maybe his sister.
“Why exactly would we go see Stan in the hospital?” I sat up a little. “What, you think we should finish the job?”
Rhys opened his eyes and let out a snicker. “Not exactly what I had in mind. Not a bad idea, though.”
He booked us a flight, and we got ready to go. We avoided eye contact with one another unless we had to talk. We kept this up even through the flight from Milan to Amsterdam. We got a room at a hotel at the airport and dumped our luggage off there. As we sat in the cab on our way to the hospital, I checked Twitter.
Someone had retweeted something Jazz Washington had posted that morning.
Really sucks when you make new friends and they fucking STEAL FROM YOUUUUUU
This was followed by several crying emoji icons.
I showed my phone to Rhys. I expected him to laugh or at least snicker, but he just winced.
“I feel like we should buy her a replacement ring and send it to her,” he said.
“And why would we do that?”
“She’s wearing it in all her photos. It’s obviously important to her, even if it’s just there to stop every man from hitting on her.”
Honor Among Thieves Page 9
