Page 47 of The Unfluencer

“Oh, he was?”

I sit upright on my bed, tucking my legs, crisscross applesauce. “I was in the back, checking a voicemail from my gyno, right? My appointment was on Thursday, and usually no call is a good thing, so you know I was freaking out.”

“I hate that.” Priscilla sits up too.

“Exactly. Anyway, I ended up on the other side of the freestanding partition near the back door—sidenote, Clive told me today that someone had been in the back storage area rifling through paintings.”

“Creepy.”

“Nothing was taken, thankfully,” I say. “But anyway, I was listening to the message, and⁠—”

“Wait. A medical voicemail on a Saturday night?” Priscilla’s face contorts.

“That was my thought.” I suck in a deep breath. “Hello, maternal great-grandmother, breast cancer. Paternal grandmother, cervical cancer. Freaked me the hell out because what is it that couldn’t wait until Monday, right?”

“Well, what was the message?”

“That the results for my annual are ready, but I need to call the next business day.” I blink repeatedly. “I called this morning, left a message. But, like, why didn’t the nurse just call today if the news can wait?”

“Right.” Priscilla nods. “Right…”

“Naturally, listening to that message, I was freaking out, thinking they're going to tell me that my vagina’s falling out…” A hollow laugh spills out of me. “Then I look up, and there’s Warner Easton, staring.”

Priscilla’s mouth falls open. “What?”

“Like, full-on looky-loo, gawking. I thought his eyes were about to fall out of his gorgeous head.”

“Omigod.” She shrieks excitedly. “I’m so geeked right now.”

“Girl, don’t even.” I shake my head. “I wasn’t ready to leave the entire fate of my vagine to the weekend gods. So, I walk away, but Zeek Harrison’s slimy ass steps directly into my path and corners me.”

“Ugh, I’m so mad.”

“You and me both. Because babyyy… the way I was so ready to tell him to take his hot breath and thirsty Luxe Ladies offers, and exit stage left⁠—”

“He’s still trying to cast you?” Priscilla frowns. “I thought they were already scheduled to announce the new season’s lineup next week.”

“Same.” I shrug, reaching to my nightstand for my water. I remove the cap and take a long drink before I continue. “Someone must be getting the boot, because he was steady asking me all these questions about my relationship with Warner and Sherry, pandering for the drama.”

“Always.” Priscilla grabs her water too, which makes me happy. We can’t have her heartbroken and dehydrated.

I exhale, exhausted from rehashing the creepy interaction. “Zeek was fishing about Sherry’s paintings, wanting to know if we’d been close back in Zion & Zara. Just tacky, wheeling and dealing in my gallery.”

“Unrefined and uncouth.” Priscilla sips her water, still listening as she tosses back her covers and walks over to open up her blinds, and it feels like a win.

Goodbye, hermit. Hello, sunny.

“Do you know this arrogant man had the nerve to actually fix his lips to ask me to sign an NDA about him asking me to join the cast? Like, what?”

“Ooh, no he didn’t.”

“Yes he did, indeed, girl,” I intone. “To which I’m like, absolutely the hell not.”

“Okay, so how’d you⁠—”

“Escape and find myself in the bathroom with the Tin Man?” I skip straight to the good part. “So, Jada Banks had walked up, real hush-hush, whispering in Zeek’s ear, and I took the opening—beelined for the restroom under the stairs, ducked inside, locked the door, and just breathed because I was in the clear, right?”

“Yeah.”