"Like what?"
"Things to get me in trouble. It hasn't happened a lot but I'm worried he could get me fired. I really need this job." She glances around the kitchen. "I shouldn't be talking about this."
She races to the sink and starts scrubbing dishes.
I set my plate down and walk over to her. "Do you tell Brock it's not true?"
"I've tried but he doesn't believe me. He always takes Braden's side."
"Still, I don't think he'd fire you. Aren't you and Brock..." I don't know how to word it so I wait for her to fill in the rest.
"Brock is good to me," she whispers. "But if Braden told him something...something he didn't like...it's possible he'd let me go."
"Then go. You could find other jobs."
"It's not that easy."
"Why? I'm sure a lot of people around here would hire a personal chef. Or you could work at a restaurant."
"I can't." She shakes her head. "Just let it go." She looks me in the eye. "Please. Stop asking questions, and don't tell Brock about Braden. I can handle him." She turns and takes off her apron. "It's time for my break. I'll be outside."
When she's gone, I take my sandwich to the counter and sit down. I check my phone for the millionth time, hoping to see a message from Jackson. How did I miss his messages last night? I always hear my phone going off, even if I'm sound asleep.
"He's not gonna text you," Trystan says as he comes in the kitchen. "They took his phone."
"I might have other messages. Like from his dad."
"His dad's not gonna text you." Trystan opens the fridge. "You're just some stupid girl his son was banging."
"Thanks. That's really nice," I say sarcastically.
He shuts the fridge. "I'm just saying that's how the guy thinks." Trystan opens my drawer of junk food. "Can I have some of this?"
"I thought you only ate healthy stuff."
"I do, but I don't feel like it today." He takes out a bag of chips.
"I didn't say you could have it."
"Nope." He tears open the bag and shoves a handful of chips in his mouth.
I just roll my eyes.
"You know who he is, right?" Trystan says, his mouth full of chips.
"Who?"
"Roman Novak. Jackson's dad."
"A movie director?"
"More like the biggest director in Hollywood. He's the guy they go to for all the big movies. The ones that make all the money. He's fucking richer than shit."
"Richer than Kristen's mom?"
Trystan shrugs. "Maybe. I don't know." He opens the fridge again and takes out one of my sodas.
"Can you get me one too?"
