Per my parents, pissing off the person hired to make you look good isn’t the way to convince her that you aren’t a total jackass.
Then again, by the time Camille was done gossiping out her asshole, Lani would be two hundred percent sure I was a jackass anyway, so I considered it a moot point. She might have insisted to me that she wasn’t a fiction writer, but hell. By the time she was through with my father’s ridiculous idea, she’d be a fully-fledged novelist.
Sure, there were good things about me. I wasn’t a horrible person, really. I did good things for people. It was a surprise because I chose not to scream and shout about it from the rooftops. Nobody needed to know about my good deeds.
I’d likely fucked up enough that I had a direct flight to Hell anyway.
The door to the gym opened. Camille strolled in, a towel around her neck, and met my eyes. “Guess who I saw on the beach?”
“Lani?” I asked sarcastically.
“Well, yeah. When you didn’t want to run with me, I called her and we ran together.” She poked her tongue out at me. “But, no. I saw Dana.”
I blinked at her, uncapping my water bottle. “I have no idea who that is.”
Camille stared at me. “Uh, Dana? Redhead? Weapons of mass destruction?” She pointed at her chest as she said that last thing. “You dated her for, oh, a personal record of an entire week last summer?”
“Dana...Dana...” I looked around the gym, racking my brains. Dana? Who the hell was Dana? “Nope.”
“Of course you can’t remember.” She sighed and turned around.
I followed her. “What the hell does that mean?”
She barely glanced over her shoulder as she went up the stairs into the kitchen and said, “Not what I’d usually mean by saying it—and that happens to be that you’re a fucking pig—but this time, it’s because I’m looking into your pretty little eyes and seeing Lani stare back at me.”
I snorted and drained the last of the water from my bottle. “Yeah, right. And don’t ever tell me my eyes are pretty again. I’m not a four-year-old girl.”
“You tantrum like one.”
“You might be a girl but I can still kick your ass.”
She punched me. “No, I mean...you’re obsessed with the fact she’s back. Come on, Brett. You burst into Dad’s office when he’s having a meeting with her and pretty much fight with her on the spot. What’s wrong with you?”
“Nothing. I’m not obsessed with her.” I grabbed the ingredients out the fridge for a smoothie and went to the blender. “I’m pissed that out of all the people he could hire, he picks her. And I know you were behind it, so don’t deny it.”
“I wasn’t going to. But it might surprise you to know I didn’t do it to piss you off.” She joined me by the blender, grabbed the kale, and took it over to the chopping board. Pulling a knife from the block, she said, “I did it because Whiskey Key is hardly a hotspot for freelance journalism. She wants to leave, but she also wants to stay for Connie. Don’t think she actually wants to spend time with you and make you look like something other than the ass she knows you are.”
“The ass she knows I am? What the hell does that mean?”
“You’re bright this morning.” She dropped the chopped kale into the blender with the stuff I just threw in and picked up the lid. “I might have told her one or two things.”
“Like what?
“Dana.”
“I don’t know who Dana is.”
Camille peered sideways at me with pursed lips and muttered, “Exactly.” Then she turned on the blender, effectively pausing our conversation.
I shook my head and turned away from her. I knew she’d do something like that. She was ridiculous.
But who the hell was Dana?
Camille shut off the blender and opened a cupboard. A few seconds later, she tapped me on the shoulder. “Here,” she said softly.
I turned and took the drink from her. “Thanks.”
“I’m sorry for giving you a hard time about Lani.” She pushed her hair behind her ear. “I just don’t want you to be, well, too much you around her. You’re not exactly the guy who stopped the others talking about her like she was nothing more than tits and ass anymore, are you?”
“Why? Because I am that guy?”
“Well...”
“Dana!” I snapped my fingers and took a step back. “Redhead. Big tits. Shit at blow jobs. She had the suction and technique of a vacuum cleaner.”
Camille stared at me for a few seconds before slowly looking away, jerking her head side to side in tiny movements. Then, without another word, she walked out of the kitchen.
I’m pretty sure she muttered “asshole” as she left.
Ah well.
“Oh! Mr. Walker!” My dad’s assistant, Cora, a pretty brunette a few years older than me, stopped in the doorway. “I’ve been looking for you.”
“Oh yeah?” I grinned.
She chastised me with one pointed look.
Ah, yeah. Don’t flirt with the assistant.
I cleared my throat. “What’s up, Cora?”
She looked down at her iPad and tapped the screen. “Your father wants you to know that you have a meeting with Lani Montana at six p.m. tonight.”
“Six p.m.?”
“Is that a problem?” She looked up at me through her bags. “Ms. Montana has an appointment this morning and is accompanying her sister to the doctor this afternoon. It’s the only time she was free.”
“And nobody considered tomorrow?”
“Is tonight a problem?” She repeated a variation of her question. “Mr. Walker, your grandfather, wants to get started right away.”
I sighed heavily and waved my hand through the air in front of me. “No, tonight’s fine. Where are we meeting?”
“In the annex. Your father will be ensuring dinner is provided.” Her lips dragged up to one side. “Fancy.”
“I know what you’re thinking.” I pointed my glass at her. “This isn’t a date, Cora.”
“Of course not.” She pressed the button to lock her iPad and looked up at me, still half-smiling. “Everybody knows you don’t do dinner on your dates. Have a nice day, Brett.”
I flipped her the bird behind her back and successfully managed to avoid staring at her ass as she walked away.
Today was going fucking awesome, wasn’t it?
CHAPTER FIVE
LANI
“How long is the job for?” I asked Mr. Reeves, the owner of Whiskey Key Daily.
A new addition to the Key. What he put in it was anybody’s business. Although, by his own admission, the Daily was more the...Twice Weekly.
“At least six months.” He pushed his glasses up his crooked nose and looked at me through the thick-rimmed specs. “Forgive me for saying so, Ms. Montana, but I was shocked when you called me. Why exactly do you need this job? Didn’t William Walker just hire you?”
“Yes, sir,” I answered slowly. “But I’m not sure how long that will last or if it’ll even be successful. Connie has successfully guilt-tripped me into staying until a few months after the baby is born.” That and nobody was ready to give up Grandma’s house. So, it was my home for the foreseeable future.