40

After that long-overdue conversation with her father, Mira went in search of Violet. The race was underway, but Mira didn’t have time to watch.

Violet was outside the press center, scowling at her iPad as she flipped through news sites.

“Violet, I need another favor.”

“Am I bringing matches or a shovel?” Violet replied without glancing up.

“Neither, I hope. I have a story to tell and I need the right person to tell it to.”

She paused and looked up. “This sounds serious.”

“It is. And I’m going a little rogue here, so you might not want to help me. It’s okay if you decide to steer clear.”

Violet leaned against the side of the press center. “Maybe you’d better tell me this story first and let me decide.”

Mira took a deep breath and swallowed hard. “That might require a drink. Are they serving alcohol in the press center?”

Violet snorted. “This is Italy.”

Violet ducked inside and emerged a few minutes later brandishing a bottle of wine. “Nicked it from a crate in the back. Sorry, no glasses. We’ll have to rough it. Come on. Let’s sit back here. The last thing we need right now is other people.”

Perching on a set of shallow metal steps along the back side of the press center, Violet took a hefty swig of the wine straight from the bottle. “One perk about Italy is that even the crappy free wine is still pretty good.”

She passed the bottle to Mira, and she took a long drink of her own.

“So,” Violet began. “I’ve already sorted the main points of this little tale, but I’m guessing I don’t have the whole story, do I?”

Mira took another drink. “Nope.” Then, for only the second time in her life, she confided in someone, telling Violet everything, from the start to the bitter end.

“Goddammit,” Violet muttered when she’d finished and they’d downed half the wine. “I’m going to castrate that motherfucker.”

“I think there’s a line forming.”

Violet’s expression turned shrewd. “You know, he doesn’t have the same PR people now.”

“Who? Brody? What’s it matter?”

“It matters because he fired the last guy. And that matters, because I know him. PJ Anders. I slept with him once.”

“What?”

Violet waved her hand in annoyance. “Not the point.”

“What is the point?”

“If Brody really did instruct him to purposefully smear the reputation of the sixteen-year-old girl he seduced, PJ might be bitter enough to rat him out. Or at least help me plant some equally damning dirt on Brody.”

Mira shook her head. “I’m not looking for retribution.”

“Speak for yourself.”

“Whatever. I just want to tell my side of the story—someplace where people will see it.”

“You know that it won’t change everyone’s minds.”

“I know. But I’m tired of hiding from this, praying for it to go away. He doesn’t get to own the narrative anymore.”

Violet nodded sagely. “I know the right person. She writes for the sport. She’s smart and kick-ass. She’ll make sure it gets done right.”

“That’s all I want.”

“Then hang on.” Violet pulled out her phone and started typing out a text. “This is about to become a bumpy ride.”

Within a few hours, it was all set up, and right on time, there was a brisk knock on Mira’s hotel room door.

“There she is.” Violet got up to let Alison Rodgers in while Mira swallowed down her fear. Years. She’d been hiding from this for years. That was over.

Violet brought Alison over and made the introductions. The reporter was in her early thirties, in jeans and a fitted leather jacket, and with a streak of silver in her dark hair that made her look like a badass seventies rock star. Mira liked her immediately. They made small talk for a minute, then Alison got to work setting up.

“Are you sure about this?” Violet asked.

Mira looked at her and let out a nervous laugh. “No? But I’m doing it anyway.” She was definitely still scared, but when she got past that she felt … powerful. For the first time in forever, she was going to tell her own story, and the whole world was going to hear it.

“She’s cool. I promise.”

Mira nodded.

“Want me to stay?”

Mira nodded again. What would she have done without Violet this season? She was more grateful for her friendship than she could possibly express. She grasped Violet’s hand and squeezed. “Thank you, Violet.”

“No problem. I’m going to relish taking down that asshole.”

“Not about Brody. Thanks for everything you’ve done for me. Maybe if I’d had someone like you seven years ago, I’d never have made that stupid choice with Brody in the first place. Thank you for being my friend.”

Violet’s face screwed up in discomfort and she waved her hands in front of her. “You know I don’t do well with human emotions.”

“I won’t do it again, I promise.”

With an awkward shrug, Violet squeezed her hand again. “You’re welcome.”

“Okay, Miranda,” Alison said, when she’d started recording, “where do you want to start?”

Mira inhaled deeply, running back over all of it in her memory. “Well, I guess it all started right after I turned sixteen …”