Chapter One
Sebastian Sutcliff
“You’re fired.” Darleen Sweetwater purses her Botox lips and at least a dozen shutters click at once.
Craning my neck for the maître d', I’m surprised to find him doing the same. Well hell, if he’s not concerned about COVID affecting his five stars, guess I won’t be either.
Done with my work day, I wave to the fans, scrape my chair against the expensive hardwood floor, and smile. “Y’all have a nice day, y’hear.”
Seriously? All I did was cough into my napkin.
Well-dressed patrons turn their heads and cover their mouths as I make my way to the door. Behind me, the blond bombshell dabs at fake tears, her acting a damn sight better than her last movie. She’s no doubt done me a favor by letting me go but the income would’ve been nice. Like I told my boss over a month ago, the spoiled starlet doesn’t need a bodyguard, she needs a babysitter. I text him, her manager, and her AA sponsor.
Thank fuck, she’s no longer my problem.This kind of shit generally don’t bother me none and it’s not the first time I got axed by some rich brat. However, it’s usually on account of I won’t fuck them, not because I caught a cold.
I wave one final goodbye to the hostess who throws me a kiss and a wink. Not long ago, I’d take her number and we’d go at it but now I got me a Brooklyn babe waiting at home. Whistling, I unfold my sunglasses and push the door. On Broadway, I cross at the light to avoid the tourists in front of Pop-Tart World.
Huh.Someday, I’ll discover what’s so interesting about breakfast snacks but not today. Multi-tasking on the short walk to the subway station, I put my cell phone to my ear.
“Hey sugar, I just got canned.”
“Thank God.” Samantha sighs. “Take an Uber, okay? Not the train.”
She is so damn cute when she worries. “Honey, if I survived Afghanistan, a little ol’ virus ain’t gonna take me out.”
“Not funny, Suds. I’ve been doing research. This Wuhan thing is going to be big. Really, really big. Like end of the world big.”
I pause at the top of the stairs and grin. “Bigger than a zombie apocalypse?”
“Think Armageddon.” Sam doesn’t laugh, so I try harder.
“Well, shit. I wasn’t scheduled to become a holy roller until next year. Did you hear of anyone being taken up in a rapture?”
“No, but I’ll let you know.” Her voice holds a hint of a smile.
Chuckling, I press my earbud deeper and step back against a building to let a group of noisy Japanese pass by. “Is there an Anti-Christ emerging?”
“I have a candidate in mind but I’m not going to say his name out loud, just in case.”
“Speak of the devil…”
“And he appears. Exactly.”
As if on cue, raindrops hit the tip of my nose and dark clouds gather overhead. “Alrighty then. I’m calling a car and should be home soon. If God shows up, let Him know we’re a package deal.”
“I’ll see what I can do. Love you.” After she hangs up, I text an Uber and call my pal, Slate, who booked me this awesome gig.
“What did you do, now?” He’s probably sitting in his plush office or better yet, standing with his hands behind his back, staring down onto Fifth Avenue.
“All I did was clear my throat and she went nuts.” Considering our company is about to receive a million tweets, Slate’s pretty calm.
“Anything else?”
I heave out a sigh, my shoulders inching away from my ears. “Well, sort of. She said I was a-gonna infect her and screamed how she would sue me, Patten Securities, and the whole damn world. I suggested she add the Chinese because they’re the ones who cloned the bat-lizard.”
“Excuse me?”
“Okay, I made the last part up. But it would be righteous. A host of fire-breathing plague-spreading lizards? Right?”
