Total pages in book: 99
Estimated words: 96802 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 484(@200wpm)___ 387(@250wpm)___ 323(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 96802 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 484(@200wpm)___ 387(@250wpm)___ 323(@300wpm)
We were on a schedule now. I’d agreed to help Winnie out with any of her New York City clients if she needed them. And thankfully, that kept me busier now that Court was mostly out of the water. We still had events planned in the upcoming months, but I’d taken a step back. The press had worked in our favor. Moving too fast wouldn’t garner more favor. It would just look desperate.
Kind of like this fucking shark in front of me.
“Hour’s up,” I ground out as my alarm went off.
“I feel like we just got started,” Mandy said with a grin.
I hated that I’d had to agree to do this interview to get that picture of me and Court taken down. Of course, the picture of us together had run for less than an hour and had gone viral. Because nothing was ever much removed from the internet.
I pressed the button on her recorder. I knew all the tricks. I’d employed them myself.
“Have a good day,” I said, standing and reaching for my purse.
“I’m surprised, you know.”
I frowned and ignored her. I wouldn’t rise to the bait.
“That you’re sleeping with Court. That he’s just a ‘client.’ ” Mandy put quotes around the word.
I glanced down, wondering where the second recorder was. I glared back at her. “I said, one hour. We talked about Josh. We’re through.”
She laughed and held her hands up. “Can’t blame me for trying.”
“Can’t I?” I asked.
“Nice doing business with you.”
I gritted my teeth as I ventured out of her office and out onto the Manhattan streets. I hailed a cab and felt like I hadn’t breathed the entire time I was inside. The interview had gone well. Well enough at least.
I knew how to control the situation, but I wasn’t used to being the one answering questions. At least, not unless I answered them for clients. I’d almost thought that I should have Winnie out here for this. But it felt ridiculous. I was more than capable. I just wasn’t… objective about Josh like I was about the douchebags who fucked around on my clients or vice versa.
I probably should have told Josh that I was doing the interview. It’d have been the considerate thing to do. Speaking to the press was taboo. I doubted he ever considered that I’d do it. But… it hadn’t actually been for me. It was to protect Court. He was a client, and that picture could do lasting damage to the campaign, which was the whole reason I’d been hired.
I needed to shake the interview off. I had another one planned in Greenwich Village. And unfortunately, it was going to be even worse than the one with Mandy.
This one was with my sister.
Taylor English sat with her back to the rest of the coffee shop. Not smart or anything I’d ever do, but I could pick her out by her long black-to-blue-tipped hair that was gently curled at the ends. She looked like she fit in at The New School with a sketchbook open on the table and another notebook opened that she was scribbling notes into. She had three half-finished cups of tea—because she didn’t drink coffee—and a small scone. I was sure it was vegan. She’d picked that up a few years ago after doing an art project on slaughterhouses.
I ordered a latte and then headed to her table.
“Hey, Tay,” I said, managing a smile as I plopped into the seat opposite her.
“Oh,” she said, looking up at me. “Hi, Anna.”
“How’s school going?”
Taylor made an indistinct noise. “I don’t know. It’s only the second week. We’ve just been going over the syllabus in every class.”
“Right. I remember those days. So… this is just… recreational?” I gestured to her notebooks.
She slammed the sketchbook closed and shoved it into her messenger bag. “It’s nothing.”
“Okay,” I said, frustrated. This was how it always went with Taylor.
“So, like, did Dad send you to check on me?” Taylor asked. Her ice-blue eyes mirrored mine even if she looked nothing like me otherwise.
“Yeah, so? I’m here.”
“I don’t need a babysitter.”
“That’s good because I have enough people to babysit and only one sister.”
She wrinkled her pert nose. “Oh yeah, your clients.”
It came out as a sneer. She wanted to offend me. So, I was purposely not offended.
“Yep. Always pretty busy at work.”
“I don’t know how you even work there.”
We’d had this conversation before. My dad hated my job, too. It had clearly rubbed off on Taylor. I didn’t need to justify it to them. But it would be nice for someone in my family to be proud of what I’d accomplished.
“Pretty easy. I’m good at cleaning up messes.”
“Just not in your own life,” Taylor quipped.
I nearly bit right back at her. But it was true. Look at Josh. We were in the midst of a divorce. Meanwhile, he was trying to drag me through the wringer because he didn’t want the divorce. And then there was Court, which I had no idea how to fix or if we even needed to be fixed. Plus, my family… which, as much as I’d tried, I had never been able to figure out.