“Yes,” he replied before pushing open the door to the living room. “We can talk about it in here. I don’t want Zara overhearing.”
Jace motioned for me to take a seat on the sectional couch, so I lowered onto it and folded my hands in my lap. He sat next to me, leaving a few inches of space as he pulled out his phone.
“Alison came through with the screen shots of her conversations with the catfish,” he said as he opened up a downloaded file.
“Did you speak to her in person?” I asked, strangely uncomfortable at the thought.
“No. My aunt was the one who dealt with her mainly,” he answered, and I understood why. Lille had a very calming, gentle sort of way with people. If Alison were upset or freaking out, Lille would be the best person to talk her down and ease her stress. Jace tugged at his hair and blew out a breath. “She was asking to see me in person, but I just … I couldn’t do it.”
Some protective instinct rose within me as I found myself placing my hand on his knee. “Don’t feel guilty. It was a good call. You have your own mental health to consider.” Jace’s eyes went to my hand on his knee before rising to meet my gaze. “Thank you for saying that. I feel so fucking bad about all of this, but we’ve dealt with intense fans before and have learned through past mistakes that keeping a healthy distance is always better. It’s not fair to give them false hope.”
His statement sparked my concern. I recalled a few incidents when we’d been together of fans trying to sneak into after parties or finding out which hotel the band was staying in and trying to locate their rooms. One time, Elias had checked into his room and discovered three teenage girls waiting for him. Luckily, Dixon had been with him at the time, and together with hotel security, they’d been able to get the fans out of the room and escort them from the hotel.
Had there been other incidents like that? I wanted to ask, but he already seemed stressed about the current situation, so I refrained.
“There are over two hundred pages of screenshots,” Jace went on. “I haven’t read over all of it, but my dad went through each page. There was nothing about you or Zara, which is the most important thing.”
My heart gave a swift, hard thump at his statement. The fact that Zara’s and my safety was the most important thing on his mind was reassuring in a way I hadn’t known I’d needed. But I worried for Jace, too. I wished this wasn’t happening to him.
He handed me the phone, and I started reading, thankful to know the impersonator hadn’t used Zara or me in their con. Or at least, not so far. As I read, I noted that it was a shockingly normal exchange between two people getting to know one another. In fact, it didn’t read too differently from my chats with Rufus. One section stood out to me, though. It appeared to be one of their most recent interactions, when the catfish was lying to Alison about being in a car accident in Japan.
AlisonF: Oh my goodness. I hope you’re okay!
Jjunior: I’ll be fine, just a couple broken bones, but nothing that won’t heal. Car is banjaxed though.
“The catfish’s screen name is Jjunior?”
“Right, I’ve always publicly gone by Jace, and that’s the name on my Wikipedia page, too. Most people don’t know I was born Jason Junior and that I later started going by Jace.”
“Hmm, it could be another indication that this person knows you, but at the same time, it’s not information that’s impossible for a stranger to come by, especially if they know someone who went to school with you or even grew up around here. It’s the wording that stands out to me most.” Jace arched an eyebrow as I pointed to the screen of his phone. “They said the car is banjaxed. Only Irish people use that phrase as far as I know.Anyone else might’ve said the car is totalled or wrecked or some other term.”
“You’re right,” Jace said. “Dad won’t be happy he missed that detail.” A faint grin touched his lips.
“Well, he did have to read through over two hundred pages. Plus, the catfish could’ve just done their research and thrown in a few specific words to make themselves seem more authentic. Or they might know some Irish people and managed to pick up some phrases,” I went on just as my phone pinged in my handbag. Hearing it, Jace stilled.
This wasn’t just any ping; it was the specific ping from the dating app I was using to chat with Rufus. He’d obviously replied to my question about meeting for a coffee date, and his response had come through at the worst possible moment. Jace grew very stiff, and I knew immediately that he recognised the ping. I didn’t delve too deeply into my own discomfort wondering how he knew. If Jace used dating apps, it was absolutely none of my business.
“Aren’t you going to check that?” he asked in a rough voice as I sat there, still as a statue.
I pressed my lips together. “It’s not urgent.”
“How do you know unless you check?”
Unwilling to entertain any more of this, I stood from the couch. “Zara must be finished her dessert by now.”
I was halfway to the door when Jace came after me. “Fuck, Shannon, I’m sorry. I’m being a dickhead and a jealous fucker. It’s none of my—”
“Why would you be jealous?” I questioned.
His look darkened. “I’ll always be jealous of anyone who gets to be with you.”
I rolled my eyes. “Of course.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“I saw that video of you and the blonde singer. It’s not like you’re all alone, and I’m sure there’s more like her just waiting for their chance. There always have been.”
I realised too late that I’d spoken out of turn and also revealed that I’d been snooping on his social media. The edges of his lips began to curve as he stared me down and folded his arms in an annoyingly smug manner.
