Aaron:no playoffs again?
Drew:we all knew that already. This season has been shit
Christian:open invite for the box, come keep me company
Drew:open bar?
Corey:cheap ass
Drew:what? It’s a valid question
Christian:can you break free for a night and grace us with your presence cor?
Aaron:yeah and bring Bex
Corey:i’ll see what I can do
Aaron:and her friends
Corey:ok…
Christian:let me know by tomorrow
Drew:what about the bar?
“Bridget!” I call out as I stand, shoving my laptop into my work bag and grabbing my gym bag from under my desk.
She pops her head back in the office, strands of gray hair falling out of her bun. “You have two minutes now. What?”
“I need to cash in a favor.”
Bridget stares at me sternly. “You don’t have any of those to cash in. What do you want?”
“I need a weekend in Vegas. Leaving this Friday—”
“That’s tomorrow. And not a full weekend. You have too much to do before filming starts next week.”
“Friday and Saturday night. I’ll be back first thing Sunday morning, home in time for my morning workout with Trevor.” I am five seconds away from getting on my knees and begging this woman.
“Please, Bridget,” I say, amping up the desperation in my tone. “I need to see my girl.”
Bridget rolls her eyes. “Your girl, psh. You didn’t have to pull that card, Corey,” she says. She tilts her head at me before smiling. “You better stick to your diet—”
“Thank you!” I exclaim, grabbing her by the shoulders and placing a kiss on her cheek.
“No alcohol—”
“I promise! I’ll be a good boy!” I start to rush down the hall, because every second I stand here adds at least a minute to this drive.
“I’ll believe it when I see it,” Bridget mutters. She says something else, but I don’t catch it—I’m already out the door and rushing to my ride.
I set my phone in the console as it connects to Bluetooth. Today, I’m in my Range Rover, which, while not kind on the gas mileage, draws far less attention out in LA than the Aston Martin. I tap the center display, eager to call Bex and tell her the good news, but I have an incoming call from a studio line.
Tapping accept, I say, “This is Corey, who is this?”
“Corey! Glad I could catch you. Is now a good time?” Mark Savage’s voice booms through my audio system.
No, Mark, this is not a good time. I was about to call my girlfriend. Wait, girlfriend?!Look at my subconscious go—Bex and I haven’t definedusas anything, so where did that come from? I glance at the GPS and see I’m beating a decent amount of traffic, so I can keep this call with Mark short and sweet.
