Page 1 of Don't Regret Me
1
THE REPORTER
Nothing. That was what she’d found.
Six months ago, Nick Jacobs woke up from a coma to find himself in a world of legal troubles, and something wasn’t right. Jasmine knew it. His agent knew it. She was sure many of his fans knew it. But there was no proof.
Jasmine stared at herself in the mirror at the Tampa courthouse, wondering just how she got there. Wondering why she cared so much. She didn’t know Nick, had only interviewed him once—before the accident.
He’d refused every interview request since. No one had heard anything from him until today, until he had to face the music of what he’d done.
All those months ago, along a lonely stretch of road in Gulf City, Florida, Nick crashed into another car that was driven by a beloved father of three. Drugs were found in Nick’s system, drugs he had no recollection of.
But that wasn’t the only thing he couldn’t remember.
Jasmine’s phone buzzed where she’d placed it on the porcelain counter, and she answered it, already knowing who would be on the other line. “It hasn’t started yet.”
“I know… I’m following on Twitter. One of the Times reporters is live-tweeting the whole thing.” Elizabeth Ross’s anxiety came through the line.
She sighed. “Of course they are.” Live-tweeting. As if this was a sporting event. She supposed, for some of them, there was no difference. They thought they were just watching an arrogant, messed-up movie star get his due. Maybe that was what was about to happen. Maybe she was wrong about everything.
“How are you holding up?” Jasmine asked. Most people didn’t believe Liz had ever even met Nick, but they were wrong. Jasmine had never been one to believe in anything mystical, that two people in comas could live in some other world for a time, but she saw her after. She saw the complete heartbreak in her eyes when Nick didn’t know who she was.
Liz was quiet for a moment. “You know… I think I’m okay.” She paused. “I just hope he is too.” She loved him, that much was obvious, but she now said it was an impossible love, one that could never amount to anything.
The door to the bathroom opened, and Jasmine turned, coming face to face with Sherrie Thompson, Nick’s no-longer-estranged wife. She wore a tight pencil skirt with a ruffled pink top, looking like she was going to a business meeting. In different circumstances, Jasmine would have laughed. “I have to go. Is that okay?” she asked Liz.
Elizabeth was quiet a moment. “Will you call me after?”
“Of course.” When she hung up the phone, she focused on Sherrie.
Her lips pursed as her eyes slid the length of Jasmine, from tightly braided black hair to flats. Her heels clicked across the tile floors as she took up a position at the open sink. “Are you a reporter?”
“Yes.” Though, Jasmine had no publication any longer. She quit her job in Hollywood when they tried to make her go back to California instead of pursuing the truth about the Nick Jacobs accident. Now, she lived on her brother’s couch with his little heathens waking her up every morning. The only reporting she did was on her blog, the one others called a conspiracy blog because she refused to see the truth about who Nick really was.
Sherrie nodded. “Well, would you like a statement?” She leaned toward the mirror, applying a new layer of bright red lipstick.
“That would be great, actually.”
She pressed her lips together, taking a moment before turning to look at Jasmine. Her face transformed from a serious, harsh woman to a desperate wife in an instant. “My husband regrets what he did and is willing to pay the price. Our lives have been completely upended, but I love him. It’s been difficult, but as a good wife, I will stand by him no matter what.” Her hand drifted to her protruding belly, completing the act. It was a brilliant performance. She’d gained a lot of love for it. She was the pregnant, devoted wife.
It was as if she’d planned the whole thing.
The idea hit Jasmine like a freight train, shoving any optimism she had left straight into the stratosphere and leaving her empty and cold.
Sherrie gave her a bright smile, a practiced smile, turned on her heel, and left to return to her husband’s side.
Jasmine? She had to get out of there. The trial wouldn’t matter when no one knew the truth, and she had a new lead.
2
ELIZABETH
“Liz, I need another Caesar salad,” one of the servers called from the entrance to the dining room.
“You’ve got it,” Liz hollered back, rushing toward the salad station.
“Liz, I need you to work tomorrow night too.” Chef Nina hung up the phone. “Landon called off for the rest of the week.”
