I didn’t normally walk around with the urge to slap people. Just thinking about last night made my blood boil and my slapping hand itch, though.
I was pretty sure Janelle’s bullshit didn’t faze Jesse; he knew damn well how Katie got cast in that video. His manager, Brody, cast her; I’d brought Brody and Jesse in here, Katie happened into the office during that meeting, and Katie landed the jobherselfby being her amazing self.
Janelle had very fucking little to do with it, other than, you know, signing my paycheck.
Nowadays, my pay came straight from head office anyway, and all I was getting from Janelle Gorman was a damn headache and, if I wasn’t careful, a bad reputation.
I picked up my phone to call her again, and got her voicemail, again. So I supposed our meeting was not happening.
I deleted it from my calendar, feeling relieved, actually. Probably better if I didn’t have to deal with her right now.
Then I seriously considered calling Katie to vent, and triple check that Janelle’s drunken delusions at last night’s event hadn’t reflected poorly on me. However, I’d already been there, done that, last night. Katie had assured me up and down that Jesse got it, that he and the entire Dirty team loved me and considered me fam, and I should just let it go.
Anyway, there was a large-percent chance that at this time of the morning Katie would be busy; deep in a painting, deep in diapers, or deep asleep in the middle of a much needed mommy nap. So, I resisted the urge to dump on her.
I’d dump on her later, when she wasn’t working or mommying, over cocktails.
Instead, I started to get myself organized. Focus on what was important here, and forget Janelle. An out-of-town photographer friend of mine was visiting next week, and she had time to do some portfolio work with at least one of our new faces; I needed to plan that shoot. I had a couple of meetings out of the office later this afternoon. And first, I had a ton of calls to make.
But before I could really dive in, there was a soft knock on my office window.
I looked up to see Suri wiggling her fingers at me through the glass. I waved her in. She slipped inside and shut the door, leaning back against it like she was holding out some impending disaster with her entire waif-like self.
Well,fuck. I knew that look.
“What did Janelle do now?” I said flatly.
“We may have a disaster on our hands,” she informed me.
I sat back. “I don’t know if I can handle one more disaster at that woman’s hands.”
“Well, you’ll have to. Unless you really want to leave this one up to Janelle.”
I bit back a groan. “Nope. Not doing that. Lay it on me.”
“She has a meeting with someone from head office this afternoon. Two o’clock, at a restaurant downtown.”
“What?”Why didn’t she tell me?almost floated out of my mouth. Of course, why would she tell me, when she didn’t even deign to tell me she was selling the agency until after she went ahead and sold it? “Since when?”
“Since I just found out. She just called to have me put it in her calendar.”
“Seriously? She’s been ignoring my calls this morning.”
Suri cringed sympathetically. “She said she didn’t know it was happening or even that he was in town. She sounded pretty panicked, actually. You know how she gets. I guess his people just called her today to set it up?”
“She’s meeting with a man?” My thoughts were already racing through the names and faces of senior staff at Superior Talent’s Toronto office, some of whom I’d met over video chat. None of them had flown out to meet with us in person since the acquisition, though. “Do we have a name?”
“Yeah. That’s where it gets worse.”
“How much worse can this get?” I asked, as she came around my desk, descended on my computer keyboard and started typing.
“This… is who she’s meeting with.”
I stared at the search term she’d input in the web search box:Dane Davenport.
My mind gridlocked as search results came up on the screen. Recent news story highlights at the top, and a list of search results centering around… Dane Davenport. And every one of them screamed two words at me.
Sex Tape
