“You know her?”
“Of her,” I say, not bothering to hide my excitement. “I almost entered a PhD program at MIT just so I could study under her. But what does she—”
“Do you know how she put herself through school?”
“No. Scholarships, I assume.”
“Mostly,” he says. “But my sister has expensive taste, and she supplemented her income with modeling.”
“Oh,” I say. I have a feeling I know where this is going.
“I don’t have a problem with the female body,” he says. “And I don’t think any less of a woman’s intellect just because she poses nude. Considering my sister’s portfolio, and the fact that she can trample me in just about any contest of wits, it would be pretty hypocritical of me, don’t you think?”
“I suppose it would.” Embarrassment still lingers, but he has managed to soothe the mortification. “And thank you for pulling me aside to tell me. It—well, I appreciate it.”
“Good.” He pats his hands on his knees. “As for Tanner, again, I’m sorry. I imagine he gave you a bit of grief. He didn’t make it a secret that he wanted your job. Now he doesn’t have one.”
“What?” I feel whiplashed by his words.
“I’ve put up with him for a long time, probably too long, but he was with me when I started Innovative, and he stuck with me even when I couldn’t pay him a salary for months on end.” He frowns, then rips off a thread dangling from a seam in the lining of his jacket. He drops the thread on the small table between us, then continues without missing a beat. “I always thought he had the company’s best interest at heart, but this morning I learned that he’s a backbiting sack of shit.”
“Oh.” I try to think what to say next, but nothing seems quite appropriate, so I wait.
“Damien made some calls after you told him what happened yesterday, and he confirmed that our boy Tanner is the one who told the press you were coming to Innovative. That’s bad enough—making you deal with that shit—but he also planted that bullshit about corporate espionage.”
“Oh, no.” My words are barely a whisper. “He’s an idiot.”
“Yes, he is,” Bruce says cheerfully. “And now he’s an unemployed one.” He points a finger at me. “Don’t be mad at Damien for interfering.”
“I’m not,” I say. All Damien did was find and report the truth. Bruce is right; Tanner screwed Innovative and he screwed me. And Damien protected us both.
The cold fist around my heart loosens a bit.
“Tanner seemed to think that you gave me the job as a favor to your wife.” The statement is out of my mouth before I can think better of it.
Bruce looks at me sharply, and I can’t help but wonder what sort of quagmire I’ve stepped in. “Did he?” Bruce says. “That’s odd.”
“I thought so, too. What did he mean?”
The corners of Bruce’s mouth turn down. “Not a clue,” he says, but he doesn’t meet my eyes.
“Oh, well,” I say lightly. “Probably just Tanner being Tanner.”
“I’m sure that’s all.” He stands up. “We should probably mingle. I think the rest of the guests are starting to arrive.”
He’s right. In the time that we’ve been talking, a steady stream of people has been coming in. A few I recognize from a similar party at Evelyn’s just a few short weeks ago. There’s even a Damien-approved photographer from the local paper, snapping away for what will undoubtedly be a spread in tomorrow’s Sunday edition.
I find Jamie talking with Rip Carrington and Lyle Tarpin, two sitcom stars Evelyn must have invited. Since Jamie considers them each utterly drool-worthy, I know that no matter what else happens, this party will rate a full ten on the Jamie-meter.