“Calling Shaniece,” my voice activated virtual assistant, Willow, replied.
I tapped my fingers on the steering wheel as I navigated the suburban neighborhood where my sports agent lived. I was on my way to meet with Amélie about the meeting I had withChanel. The news I needed to share, along with the pictures, wasn’t something that I wanted to share over the phone.
It was bad enough that when I found out about the pictures I learned that they had come from an anonymous source, meaning there was no telling how many people had already seen them. The last thing that I needed was for someone to get their hands on either of our phones and see the pictures.
“Hi, Ash,” Shaniece Everson, my personal assistant, greeted cheerily.
“Hey, how’s your day going?”
“It’s been a wonderful day. I just finished cleaning my house, picked up my coffee order from Brew ‘N’ Sip, and I was about to dive into some reading. What can I do for you?”
“Not a lot, because I’m not trying to ruin your weekend, but I do need a favor.”
“Anything, Boss Man.”
“I need you to send a dozen tulips, a box of Schroeder’s bourbon turtle chocolates, a bottle of Macallan, and a card to Chanel Dubois that reads: My apologies and gratitude, Ash. It needs to be delivered in the next couple of hours.”
“That’s an expensive order to be sending to a sports reporter. Care to tell what you did that put you in the doghouse?”
“I don’t.”
“Are you sure that Muffin won’t get jealous about you sending a gift of over a grand to another woman just to apologize?”
I didn’t like her insinuation, but I ignored it. “Niecey, you gon’ do your job or what?”
“Sorry. You’re right. I’m on it right now.”
“A’ight. Enjoy the rest of your day or whatever.”
I ended the call just as I pulled into Two Slices, a popular upscale sandwich shop. I parked right next to Amélie’s Mercedes, thankful that the restaurant didn’t seem too crowdedthis early. It was shortly after eleven, which was probably why she wanted me to meet her at this hour. People were out and about shopping, but they hadn’t gotten around to eating lunch and crowding the restaurants yet.
“Hey, Ash.” Amélie stood from her table near the back, but in front of a window, and hugged me.
I bent down and wrapped her in my arms. “Hi, Amé.”
“I took the liberty of ordering a roasted turkey, Cajun chicken, and black forest ham club on a brioche roll for you,” she declared just as one of the servers walked up to our table with a serving tray.
“Excellent.”
After the server left us alone, Amélie spoke up. “All right. What did she do to piss you off?”
I bit into my sandwich and chewed thoughtfully and slowly as Amélie glared at me. I knew she was pissed that I was taking my time, just as she knew I was doing it to get underneath her skin. I was like an annoying younger brother to her.
“Okay . . . okay,” I declared, laughing at her. “She told me that Muffin was cheating.”
“Well, shit. That’s nothing that we don’t already know,” Amélie declared and forked some of her salad into her mouth.
“Yeah, but Chanel shared pictures, Amé—and the pictures are of her and Alex.”
“Alex who?”
“Curry.”
Amélie’s eyes widened, and her mouth dropped. Her fork fell back onto the table and hit the edge of her bowl with a loud clatter.
“Are you fucking serious?”
I pulled out my phone, scrolled to the photo app, and pulled up the screenshots that I had taken of the actual photos. I onlyshowed her the ones of them kissing, because the last thing I wanted to do was put Muffin’s ass out there like that.
