Sinking deeper into the living room couch that faces the garden, I drink my scotch. It burns. Too bad it can’t burn away the nasty taste in the back of my throat. “As far as I know.”
“And you?”
“I’m not the one who got attacked.”
“You shielded her…”
“Not the same thing.” My voice is terse.
Elliot shakes his head. “How did it happen?”
“I have no idea. Paige left first. When I got to the lobby, she was already outside and the attack had started.”
“Damn.” He knocks back his scotch. “Mira was right after all.”
“About what?”
“She said when a woman has sex, she’s a slut. And when a woman is labeled a slut, she’s fair game.”
Elliot isn’t saying anything I didn’t know. I’ve seen how female celebrities end up being a Public Target Number One. But Paige isn’t a celebrity. “I had no idea it was this bad for her.”
“She never complained?”
“Once. A little bit.” She told me the only reason she agreed to the interview with Derek Madison was to tell her side of the story because she was tired of people making stuff up about her, portraying her badly. I rejected that explanation, telling myself she just wanted to be famous.
I squeeze my eyes shut. How could I have been so wrong?
Elliot wisely says nothing for a moment, letting me stew in self-recrimination. “She’s just being targeted more because she doesn’t fit the image of a deserving woman.”
Raising my head, I look at him. “What the hell does that mean?”
“You know. She’s not model gorgeous, not from a rich or famous family, not a size zero, didn’t go to some fancy school, and didn’t have some kind of noble job.”
“What the hell is a ‘noble’ job?”
“Like feeding children or advocating for abused women or whatever.”
My face scrunches. Shallow, judgmental people piss me off. “First of all, Paige is gorgeous. It isn’t my fault that people can’t see that. And you don’t have to be rich or famous or a size zero, or have an Ivy League diploma to be worthy. If that’s the criteria, people should pelt me with eggs and tomatoes.” I have the looks, wealth and a famous family behind me, but I don’t have anything else.
“But you’re a guy.”
“So?”
“So it’s okay. The requirement is only for women.”
“What the fuck?”
He shrugs. “Just how it is. Society is harsh on women. You know that.”
I let my head fall back onto
the thick cushion. Chandeliers hang from the high ceilings in the living room, one of them right over my position. It infuriates me that she’s being treated unfairly and that I had no idea all this time. I promised her I would ensure she wasn’t humiliated or hurt by our arrangement, and I failed to keep my word.
My phone pings with a text. I ignore it. I don’t want to talk to anybody right now. If it’s urgent, they can call.
“That might be Paige,” Elliot says.
“No, it isn’t. It’s probably some junk.”