Page 27 of Concerted Chaos

“Donate a portion to Jace’s foundation, and we’ll call it even.” I don’t need Tanner’s money; I just wanted to find out how greedy he was with it.

We change into swimsuits—after I make sure Tanner stows his camera gear—and head out. But we barely make it poolside when he receives a text from his agent. They want more. Numerous sites are trying to schedule interviews with me, but my phone is off again, and Tanner is the only one who can reach me.

“This is insane,” Tanner says as he skims through the messages. His phone keeps beeping with new notifications. “They think I’ve got an in with you, and they want me to cash in on it.”

“Who does?”

“Everybody, even ones I’ve never heard of. Celebutante offered me $10k if I can get you to spill your guts to their reporter. They want me to trick you into going to a restaurant tonight, where she’ll be lying in wait.”

“Forget it. I hate that site.” But I do appreciate that he told me about it instead of suggesting we go out for dinner.

“The Snarky Gossip is offering me money—oh, only $5k—if I can convince you to take a phone call with them.”

“Pass.”

“Eduardo says he knows I’m with you and for $8k he’d like to send someone to your house for an exclusive.”

“For you or me?”

“The $8k is for me to persuade you and take pictures. Your payment is a bit more.” He shows me his phone. Nope, not enough. For either of us, actually. Eduardo does not respect Tanner’s skill. He keeps undercutting him on price.

“No thanks.”

“You seriously don’t want a piece of this action? When Jace died, you were all about it.”

That’s an asshole thing to say. And a total misinterpretation of my motives.

“Jace’s death was less than an hour from leaking anyway. I know him, and I did exactly what he would have wanted me to do. You haven’t figured out the importance of spin control yet?” Truthfully, the decision was out of my hands. Jace didn’t have any family and was on the verge of firing his publicist. That left Devon as the best option to take over the announcement, but he was too distraught and begged me to leak it for him. Putting the news out through a gossip blog took the pressure off Devon and was the easiest way to get it out there without all the hassle of the press conference that Jace’s former people were trying to set up. Making Eduardo pay for it was just a bonus.

“Spin control, yeah, I get that. But would he really have wanted you to profit from his death?” Tanner is skeptical. He clearly doesn’t know me at all.

“Information costs money, especially when the person who wants it is a soul-sucking vampire who only cares about website hits and not the actual human beings involved. But that doesn’t matter anyway because I didn’t keep a penny of that blood money. You’re the only one who profited.”

“You didn’t?” He’s apparently surprised by that. I’m rather offended now.

“I spent it all on insulin.”

“If you’re diabetic, why’d you suggest margaritas?” he scoffs. He’s acting like he caught me in a lie.

“I didn’t. You’re the one who suggested margaritas. I just agreed to them. And anyway, it wasn’t for me. Do you have any idea how much insulin costs every month? I went on PleaseFundMe and found all the posts where people were asking for money for insulin, and I funded them all. And a few kids’ insulin pumps as well. Jace would have approved.” Jace did that sort of thing anonymously sometimes. One of his hobbies was getting drunk and paying for strangers’ healthcare.

“I can’t believe you did that.” Now he’s staring at me like he’s never seen me before.

“I can’t believe you assumed I spent the money on myself. Now I know what you really think of me.”

He runs both hands through his messy hair, like he always does when he’s thinking or agitated or about to insult me. “I don’t know what to think of you. I can’t figure you out, Cassidy.”

I’m not comfortable with his probing. “You don’t need to figure me out. But like I said, you’re the only death profiteer.”

“I don’t look at it that way. I was doing my job, and you have to admit I took a gorgeous picture. But I wouldn’t want to ... I wouldn’t want to exploit you. You’re trusting me right now, and I would never take advantage of that.”

I study him for a moment. He’s serious. He’s not going to secretly text some journalist.

“So what do you think I should do?”

“Me?” I can’t tell if he’s surprised or flattered that I’m soliciting his opinion.

“You’re the only person who stands to benefit from this interaction. You’ve got tabloids offering you money for access to me. Tell me what to do.”

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