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Jagger’s Return
As Jagger Lovingread the online article, now trending on social media, his bloodboiled.
Jagger Loving, CEO of Loving Resorts, better known as “God’s gift to the hospitality industry”, is slated to open his fourth Loving Resort. And this time we’re the lucky ones because this luxurious and all-inclusive property is located on his home turf, the good ‘oleUSA.
Couples who crave the exotic and the erotic are flocking to the grand opening of Loving Malibu, located in—you guessed it—picturesque Malibu, California. But something is off and the rumor mill is aflutter. The “sexy-sexy” that has made Loving both rich and famous…or maybe we should say infamous…is missing. Has the handsome playboy lost his pizazz? Did that bump in the road stop him dead in his tracks? Has the hospitality mogul gonesoft?
The resort’s grand opening is slated for Valentine’s Day. And ladies, for those of you who can’t get enough of Loving, here’s a recent shot of Jagger buying a bum breakfast. Don’t you wish you werethatguy?
He glared at the accompanying photo. How the hell had the paparazzi found him at that ungodly hour? He’d been in the nation’s capital for two damned days and he couldn’t even buy a man breakfast without someone plastering his business all over the Internet. When Jagger had lived at his Switzerland and Bora Bora properties, no one had tracked his every move. He wasn’t hounded at Loving Mexico, either, until the incident that made him front-pagenews.
Shifting on the stool, he surveyed the Georgetown coffee shop. Nobody paid him any attention. Nowadays, he liked flying well below the radar. More than the unwanted publicity, he detested when others referred to the homeless as bums. He’d been homeless and he was nobum.
His phone rang with the ringtone for his assistant, Robby Sutton. “Morning,” heanswered.
“Jagger, I couldn’t get the photo retracted,” Robby blurted. “Upside is that you were doing something charitable. Where are you, by theway?”
“Across the street, blending in at the coffee shop.” Jagger glanced outside at the pedestrians scurrying by in heavy winter coats. “Are you in yoursuite?”
“Yes. The car service will be here in five. I’ll meet you outside the hotel. And everything is confirmed for your soireetonight.”
During his assistant’s pregnant pause, Jagger shifted the phone to his other ear and waited. Robby’s silence was never a goodsign.
“Have you heard from Erin?” Robby asked, his voicetight.
Of all his event directors, she’d been the least communicative. “No. Should I expect a call fromher?”
“She hasn’t shown up for work in threedays.”
Ah, hell.“Has anyone contacted her?” Jagger asked as an attractive woman slipped onto the stool besidehim.
“I sent her a text and left her a message. Rumor amongst the staff is that she walked. We open in one week and she’s MIA.” The urgency in his assistant’s voice wasn’thelping.
Jagger lowered his voice. “I can’t leave until I cast my vote at the conference this afternoon. Fly back and find out what’s goingon.”
“Gotit.”
“Keep me posted.” Jagger ended the call. Last minute emergencies were to be expected, but he couldn’t afford a missing event director. So much hinged on the breadth of activities offered at a LovingResort.
“Good morning.” The woman seated next to him shot him a cool smile. “Welcome back to America, Mr. Loving. I see you’re flying solo. Is everything business as usual now that things havequieteddown?”
Jagger’s guts roiled, but he shot her a wink, slung his computer bag over his shoulder, and rolled out. He could not get a break from the damned media. An entire year had passed since the debacle. Why hadn’t the journalists moved on?Must be a slow day in DCpolitics.
After crossing the street and sliding into the waiting sedan, Jagger mutteredhello.
“Same location as yesterday, sir?” asked thechauffeur.
“Yes.” As the car pulled away from the curb, Jagger’s phone rang again. “Good morning,Kate.”
A year ago, he’d hired Kate Faraday to help him manage through the incident at Loving Mexico. She had done a fantastic job, so he retained herservices.
“I didn’t like the article.” He could hear the frustration in his publicist’s voice. “Did you know that photographer wasthere?”
It wasn’t even eight o’clock in the morning and he was already plum out of patience. “Kate, I bought a man breakfast. Period. When are you flying toMalibu?”
“Over the weekend,” she replied. “I’ve set up media day for Monday. Get a haircut or use gel. You look like a wildman.”
