Pull your big girl panties up!
Face this! ?Just tell Za what happened and get it over with.
?Just… tell…Za? I pull my phone out and type the words into our chat.
Me: i fukked ur brother last night. soz.
Then my guttwists and turns violently. I delete that sentence right as the lift dings and the doors slide open to the lobby.
My stomach rolls like a washing machine, and I barely make it to the nearest potted plant before I bend over and throw up.
Fantastic.
Francine Campbell, everyone. Queen of class and grace personified.
I wipe my mouth with the back of my hand, straighten, pretend like that has absolutely nothing to do with me.
But it doesn’t matter because the lobby is buzzing.
A hotel manager is tight-lipped. Two security guys are escorting a red-faced staff member toward the back.
Guests whisper with phones out.
I lean toward the front desk, abandoning my nausea for the sake of being nosy.
“What happened?”
“One of the staff exposed a guest’s private details to reporters,” the employee says. “They’re terminating him immediately. High-profile guest. Very sensitive situation.”
High-profile?
My gut drops. I remember now—last night with the reporters.
Jabari.
Tuh. Of course.
How I could manage to get wet for a guy who uses his fame to get people fired is beyond me.
“Right,” I mutter. “Cool. Thanks.”
I grab my bag tighter and head straight for the doors before anything else can happen to me because clearly, today is not my day.
“Where the hell were you?”
Zaza’s voice hits me before I can even get the key in the door.
She’s standing in the hallway with her bonnet on, her robe half-tied.
I sigh. “Good morning to you, too.”
“Don’t good morning me,” she snaps, stepping aside so I can come in. “It’s two o’clock in the afternoon. Where were you, madam?”
I step inside, drop my bag on the chair, and take a breath.
The entire bus ride home, I’d tried to come up with something—anything—that sounded reasonable.
I had nothing.
