“Yes, he took a few employees.” His mother tried a different tack. “We’re all going to be there that night. It will be so apparent if my eldest isn’t here. What will people say? Come for me?”
His lips twisted. His mother played dirty. Yuba City was a relatively small and gossipy town. His absence would be felt.
“You can stay at the little house. It’s all yours. No one will bother you there. You can have your privacy and come to this one little award ceremony and then you can either go back to Santa Barbara or stay in your own home on the farm.”
When Jas was nineteen, his grandfather had deeded over the empty house his great-grandparents had built, as well as a small tract of the surrounding land. No one was living in it, his grandpa had said, so Jas might as well have it.
Deep nostalgia shot through Jas. He loved that house. Jas had known it was a lure and a bribe when his grandpa had given him the deed. A way to tie him to a business and life he didn’t want.
He had few emotional ties to the huge home his grandpa had built later in life and now lived in, so it was easier to pop in there for their monthly dinners and leave. The farm sat on hundreds of acres. He didn’t even have to see the little house.
Jas tugged at a loose thread on his comforter. Oh, but he missed every inch of that place.
It might be different now. You could go and see. Not the parade, but at least the house.
He shook that thought away. It would surely be too painful, and to what end? He and his grandfather narrowly avoided getting locked in their usual battle of wills during a once-a-month dinner. An extended visit would be rough.
“You don’t have to commit this minute. Think on it?” Tara asked.
He gritted his teeth. Tell her why you don’t want to go. Tell her about the loud noises, and the fireworks, and the heat, and the crush of people. His mother was kind and empathetic, a kindergarten teacher. She would understand. “Fine,” he said reluctantly. “I’ll think on it. No promises.”
“Good enough for now. I love you. Have a good night.”
“Good night. Love you too.” He hung up and sat there for a moment, taking a beat to collect himself. The doorbell roused him.
Who on earth would be looking for him at this hour?
Jas strode to the door and yanked it open to find Jia. He’d never seen the girl without a full face of makeup, a coordinated outfit, and a matching hijab, but tonight she wore lounge pants, a cotton shirt, and a scarf tied over her hair.
“What’s wrong?” he demanded when she didn’t speak, but merely stared at him.
“Um.” She dipped her gaze down his body and then back up, and he flushed as the cool air hit his bare chest.
“Hang on.” He shut the door, grabbed the shirt and shoes he’d taken off, and pulled them on. He was back in under a minute.
She snapped to attention and cleared her throat. “I’m sorry to bother you, but something’s come up, and, well . . . I hate tattling or anything, but Rhiannon’s on a flight across the ocean, and it seems like you’ve known Katrina the longest of all of us, so I thought I would come and see if we can—”
Jas cut off her rambling. “What’s wrong?” he repeated.
Jia bit her lower lip and looked torn. “Katrina said not to tell you.”
“Jia.”
“But she didn’t say you couldn’t guess, I suppose.”
“I am not playing charades with my Katri . . . my employer’s well-being.”
Jia didn’t seem to notice his almost-slip. She typed something on her phone. “Whoops, dropped my phone.” She tossed it at him and he caught it automatically against his chest. She gave him a meaningful look.
He stared at the tweet blankly. He has a to die for! “What is this?”
“Scroll up to the first tweet in the thread. Katrina’s viral.”
Jas started to read. “What?”
“It means she’s internet-famous.”
“I know what going viral means. But I don’t understand how Katrina—” He stopped as he got to the first photo of her. She was instantly recognizable to him, despite the baseball cap she wore and the halfhearted blurring of her face. He scrolled through the tweets and embedded photos, his disbelief and fury growing as he read them. “What the hell?” He pinned Jia with his glare, though it wasn’t meant for her. “I was there. I couldn’t hear what they were saying, but it wasn’t . . . this.” He’d been silently seething in dismay the entire time, trying to read their lips, but even he knew this was a fabrication.
The second-most-liked tweet was the one implying they’d hooked up in the bathroom. That for sure wasn’t true. Katrina had never been out of his sight.
“That’s what Katrina said. I have no doubt it’s all lies this woman spun to fit her own narrative.”
He stepped outside and closed the door behind him. “How is Katrina handling this?” He thought of Richard saying Katrina had snapped at him, and immediately realized that was a foolish question.
Katrina craved anonymity. She invested and gave charitably, yes, but it was all done through layers of paperwork and systems he’d helped her design. Even the local small business owners who knew her, like Mona, didn’t know her full name.
“She was definitely . . . upset. I tried to tell her that no one will recognize her, which seemed to be Katrina’s main concern, but I don’t think she bought it. Her face is pretty hidden, though, right? You’re the security expert. What do you think?”
He went back to the first photo of Katrina and used his fingers to zoom in. It might be hard for a stranger to recognize Katrina from these photos, but for someone who was familiar with her? He examined the photo further for other identifiable details, grimacing when he caught a tiny clue. He turned the phone around to show Jia. “Look at her handbag on the back of the chair. It has her initials embossed on the strap.” He couldn’t believe he’d missed that until now, or he would have stopped her from ever carrying that purse.
Jia squinted. “I can barely make it out. Besides, lots of people have the initials KKA.”
Katrina King Arora. Her married name. Hardeep must have given Katrina the purse. The man had been unfailingly generous to everyone in his orbit, which had put Jas in a pickle. It was hard to be jealous of a good man.
“No one will identify her off it, but it’s confirmation for anyone who has their suspicions,” he said grimly. “The idiot who took these photos should be sued.” And Jas should be fired. What kind of a bodyguard was he? How had he not caught the woman at the next table taking creeper shots of her?
“Oh, hey. I can take secret photos so well a CIA agent couldn’t spot me. Don’t beat yourself up over that.”
He hadn’t realized he’d spoken that thought out loud. Jia’s condolences were nice, but he didn’t want to be consoled. He handed Jia back her phone. Not now. He’d feel like a failure later. “Where is Katrina now?”
“In her office.” Jia worried her fingers together. “I stuck close to home today and checked in on her, and she’s been glued to her computer. I’ve been monitoring too. The story’s gaining steam, it’s starting to get picked up by mainstream news outlets.”