Katrina’s eyes had been kind. “Do you have any idea how much my husband left me? I have money. You have the brains. Make money for both of us.”
At the time, Rhiannon had assumed Katrina’s quiet but lush lifestyle was funded by her previous modeling career and truly hadn’t had any idea how much money a famous Indian jeweler could leave his much younger wife. It turned out, a lot.
Katrina put her fork down, her plate cleaned. She was a fast eater. “I did happen to live-stream the audio of that interview you did. You were great, even handling that stupidquestion about your hiring practices. Was the football player as hot as he sounded?”
Rhiannon took a giant gulp of orange juice, draining the glass. She wished she’d thought to make mimosas. Not because she liked mimosas, but because then there would be a champagne bottle on the table. “Yeah, so. Funny story.”
“Oh?”
“The football player was B.B.”
“What?”
“Yup.”
“Oh my God. Hashtag BeachBastard? How could you not text me immediately?”
“I was still... processing it.” She’d processed it for the rest of the day after the interview and all of yesterday too. Processing it had given her such a stress headache, she’d moved her flight so she could leave after her very last commitment yesterday.
Rhiannon didn’t keep many secrets from Katrina. She’d told her all about Samson when she’d returned from Cayucos, pissed and hurt. Katrina had been adequately outraged on her behalf. She’d initially referred to Samson as #BeachDick, but #BeachBastard had alliteration going for it.
“What on earth was hashtag BeachBastard doingthere?”
“From what I gathered, Annabelle’s a family friend.”
Katrina bared her teeth. “He went from ghosting you to talking about how he’s looking for love on Matchmaker? What garbage.”
Rhi slammed her fist down on the table. “That’s what I said! Total hot garbage.”
“I should have asked you for his name when you came back from that trip, but I only wanted to call him a dick.”
“Because he was a dick.” Rhiannon rested her elbows on the table. “You know of him? Would you have recognized his name?” Katrina followed sports a little better than Rhiannon did.
“Yeah. I mean, he hasn’t played in years, but he’s more famous for his family than his career anyway. His dad and uncle were both Hall of Famers.” She screwed her face up. “There was some drama when Samson retired, but I don’t remember what, exactly.”
“I don’t care about his past.” When it came to Samson, she knew quite enough, thank you.
“I can’t imagine how awkward that interview must have been for you, and now I’m more impressed at how well you kept your shit together.” Katrina gasped. “Ah God, all the double meanings now. Was he talking about you? How he didn’tintend to—” Katrina paused and Rhiannon waited patiently for her to voice her outrage over how stupid it was to claim one wasn’t intending to throw someone aside.
I didn’t intend to ghost youwas fast becoming the mealymouthedI didn’t intend to hurt youof the dating world, and Rhiannon was sick of it.
“Wait a minute.”
“What?”
“He said he had a personal emergency. That was why he ghosted you.”
Rhiannon snorted. “A hypothetical.”
A frown creased Katrina’s otherwise smooth brow. Sheoften got skin care tips and products from Lakshmi. “Or real.”
“If that’s his excuse, it could mean anything. Or, yanno, he’s lying.”
“Oh yikes.”
“What? Do you know something?”
“He may not have been lying. The timing would fit with...” Katrina hopped up from the table and retrieved her phone from the counter. She typed something in, scrolled for a minute or two, and then grimaced before sitting down again and placing the phone faceup on the table.
