“Doesn’t she have staff or other people at the house who you have to fool, too?”
Things would be so much easier if he were here instead of having to try to explain it all to him over the phone while he had screaming kids in the background. “No, Ty gave them all the time off because he thinks the more people involved, the more likely this will get out. And apparently, having everyone sign non-disclosure agreements won’t help. Something to do with not knowing who leaked it if a lot of people know the truth.”
“How in the world do they expect you to live like Queen Bee if they take away all the worker bees?”
“I know!” I sat up and slapped my thigh for emphasis. “That’s what I’m saying. He even took away the cook. Which wouldn’t be so bad if they had actual food in the house, but they don’t. I’ve never even heard of half the crap she has in the pantry. And the worst part is, Ty won’t let me go to the store to do my own shopping.”
“What’s wrong with that? You don’t even do your own shopping here.”
He wasn’t supposed to point that out. “Maybe not, but at least the online shopping app has pictures so I can browse and get what I want. How would I even know what I want if I don’t have pictures, Dave?”
“Would you like me to make a list for you?”
“That would be amazing.”
He sniggered, making it easy to picture him clearly in my mind’s eye. “Is that why you called?”
“What?” Even though he couldn’t see me, I made a face anyway—quirked top lip, furrowed brow, narrowed eyes. It was the quintessential expression when getting caught red-handed. “No…of course not.”
“Then what else did you call for?”
“To tell you…” I shook my head and resumed my position on my back. “Okay, fine. There was no other reason.”
I knew he wouldn’t take offense to that, considering he oversaw the grocery orders at the apartment. If anything, he’d been expecting this call, which was proven when he said, “I’ll send you a list in a minute.”
Apparently, we were quite co-dependent on one another. The jury was still out on whether that was healthy or destructive. Maybe in ten years when we’re nearing forty, we’ll figure that out. If we were still single and living together, well…I’d say that answer would be rather clear.
Within five minutes of getting off the phone with Dave, my phone pinged with an email.
“Ty!” I called for him, using the intercom button thingy like he’d told me to. “Ty!”
I could practically smell his net worth before his figure appeared in the doorway. He released a loud huff and slowly rolled his eyes, probably more for dramatic effect, before crossing his arms. “Tasha, you don’t have to yell into the speaker.”
“How am I supposed to know? It’s not like I have those in my place.” Pretending to be my sister was draining, so I had to find a bit of fun somewhere. That just happened to be at Ty’s expense. If he had a problem with it, then maybe he should’ve kept a few more people around the house. Really, he only had himself to blame.
“What is it?”
“I have a grocery list.” Knowing what he was about to say, I held up a finger and added, “Despite being identical twins, we are not carbon copies of each other. Meaning, I very much enjoy the taste of meat.”
His phone chimed, letting him know that I had used AirDrop to send him something. As he read over my list, his eyes grew wider and wider. “Beer? Boxed macaroni and cheese?” He dropped his arm to his side and stared at me. Well, more like gawked. “Pizza Rolls?”
“Why are you reading everything off as a question?”
“You’re supposed to be Tiffany Lewis.”
“No one’s here, Ty. Who’s going to go through the fridge and question it?”
He nodded slowly while staring over my shoulder. It seemed he was coming around. “Fine, you have a point there, but what about your body? You’re already a size or two bigger than your sister, and you’ve firmly expressed that you will not be going to the gym.”
“And? Weight is easy to explain. People put on a few pounds all the time—especially women. She’s not currently working, so all you have to say is that she’s been enjoying all the food she had to starve herself of while doing her modeling gigs. When Tiff comes back, it’ll just look like she paid someone to take all that weight and inject it into her lips.”
He had to make a sincere effort not to laugh. “First of all, don’t ever use the word starve in any context. We don’t need to deal with rumors going around that Tiffany has an eating disorder.”
I waited a beat, and when he didn’t say anything else, I added, “You know, you really shouldn’t use first of all if you don’t have a second point.”
“Oh, I do.” He snapped his fingers, as if he’d forgotten what he was saying and just now remembered. “Secondly, if the added weight creates bad press, then you must help me deal with it.”
“Ty, I’m a size six—sometimes eight depending on the brand. In what world would that create bad press? I have curves, not diabetes. What is wrong with you?”
As if I’d slapped him across the face, his mouth opened and closed, shock rendering him speechless. Finally, he shook it off and took a small step back. “I apologize, Tasha. That wasn’t what I meant. I, in no way, believe that there is anything wrong with your body. I just know how ugly the media can be, and I’m simply trying to minimize that threat. We already have so much to deal with as it is without adding a few extra pounds.”
I believed him. It was clear he meant what he said, which allowed me
