A old college photo of a young Jason Walker dressed in his football shirt and crouching over a ball comes up on the screen. It is the same man Caulder had tied up in a warehouse under Dante’s instructions. Sash’s blood runs cold. The remote control falls out of her hand
and plops trivially into the water.
“Although the cause of death has yet to be determined, the police are deciding to treat the incident as suspicious.”
The color drains from Sash’s face. She can’t believe what she’s just seen. Until two weeks ago, she’d not had cause to say Jason’s name since they split up several years ago. Now he’s turned up naked on a beach, the cause of his death unknown.
She doesn’t know what to think. Or she knows what she is thinking and can’t believe she’s thinking it. Before she can decide how to process the information and proceed, the reporter has passed back to the studio, and something else, something even bigger is causing goose-bumps to break out across her skin, and her pulse to race so much her heart is skipping beats just to catch up with it.
“Back to our main news story of the day”, the slick haired anchor says, directly to the camera. “Billionaire businessman Dante Hix, owner of Hix Industries, amongst a huge number of other properties and investments across America, has been caught red handed with his stepsister Sash Cooper.”
“You heard that right, folks”, his female assistant says. “His stepsister. And we have the photos to prove it. Exclusive interviews with friends and family members coming up later in the show.”
“This is the front page of the New York Times this morning”, the anchor says, holding up the page to the camera. It is one of the more risque photos, with the more sensitive parts obscured by black censoring blocks. Above, in huge block capitals, the headline reads: BILLIONAIRE AND STEPSISTER SECRET AFFAIR. “And this is one of several photos, all of which you can see on our website.”
The anchor turns to his assistant. “What was he thinking?”
Before Sash has a chance to react, Dante takes the words right out of her mouth.
“Fuck”, comes the resonant scream from the terrace, so loud it could probably be heard all over the state of California. “Fuuuuuuuuuuuuuck.”
***
Tess sits on the edge of her seat, Oliver on the floor to her left, playing away happily. In her hand she holds several photos of Dante and Sash, including some taken at the hymen reconstruction clinic and the Los Angeles hotel. In the background the TV drones on, a different news channel to the one Sash was watching, but exactly the same story.
“Now we’ll fucking see who wins”, Tess says. “Won’t we Oli?”
###