“It’s pretty loosey-goosey, but allegedly there are some questionable texts, and it seems President Simon has been to her private residence, which isn’t the norm for a president. Why the hell go to her house with his security detail? Doesn’t make any sense.”
This was juicy.
“The White House Press Secretary is giving a statement and taking questions tomorrow, supposedly.”
“Is the president a suspect?”
“There are theories flying all over. A lot of people think someone was trying to keep her quiet before she published some big story.”
“A story bigger than having an affair with the president?”
“Don’t ask me,” Naomi said.
Gabby chewed on that for a second. If Sheridan knew something about Amanda Duvall, no wonder the president was eager to get her off gossip island.
“So how did you all know Amanda? Was she part of Inner-G?”
“She’s been here before,” said Naomi, nonchalantly.
“What? Like at this resort?”
Was she visiting or doing a story? Alarm bells were going off in Gabby’s head. If Amanda was doing some sort of takedown on Inner-G, there were so many more suspects. She was tired just thinking about it. One way or another, it wasn’t a coincidence.
With finality, Naomi shut off the TV and turned to Gabby. “But enough of that. We have a wedding to plan.”
“What was Amanda like?” Gabby asked.
“Amanda was an icon,” Naomi said. “She quit thePostwhen Jeff Bezos bought it to startThinkPiece. Amanda was doing big things, taking down people with money and power without having to please the billionaires running the media.” Naomi dabbed at her eyes. “Sorry.”
“It’s okay. We need more people like her.” Gabby didn’t want to turn her attention away from the Amanda story, but she had a cover to maintain.
“These are photos from other weddings we’ve hosted.” Naomi pushed some lookbooks her way, and Gabby selected the first one.
“Anything you see in here, we can do without any trouble. Well, except for the zip line one. The bride’s dress got caught on some branches on the way down. Ripped the train right off.”
Gabby laughed. “No zip lining to the altar, got it.”
“Great.”
“How long have you been part of Inner-G?” Gabby asked as she flipped through pictures.
“Since the beginning.”
Gabby nodded. As far as she knew, that was about five years ago.
“As the Big G says, I’m an Inner-G OG.”
Gabby laughed. “Does he know that other people use the letter G?” The letter stood for so many things: Gangsta, homie, grand, “it’s all cool.” He acted like he owned the letter G.
“Probably not. He’s in his own world.” Naomi gestured to the surroundings. “That’s what this is.”
Men were ridiculous, running around the world naming stuff after themselves: kids, mountains, roads, schools. You just didn’t see women acting like that. Her name, Gabby, started with the letter G. She had a necklace with a golden “G” charm, but that was it. This man, though, had basically started a religion based on the first letter of his name.
Gabby frowned at the gorgeous wedding pictures. They all looked like fantasy weddings, but they also looked like a thousand choices when she should probably be doing something else, like chasing down the leak. “Can I just pick a wedding package? I’m not much of a planner.”
Gabby must have looked overwhelmed because Naomi shook her head and said, “I got you. Let’s just start with the basics: a place to say the vows, a menu, a dress—all the standard stuff.”
“That’s still a lot.”
