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Zaidee: One dozen or two?
Zaidee: Card?
Zaidee: Delivery address for her?
Being uncertain of the answers to any of those questions prompts me to click on someone else’s message.
J.T.: You bought Pham and her entire team catered breakfast this morning for their continued diligence of doing damage control.
J.T.: She wants to release a statement on the brand’s behalf.
J.T.: She also wants me in front of a camera answering questions.
J.T.: Your company. Your call.
Increased indecision pushes me to check the last unopened text.
Evie: The media is releasing any and all the information they can dig up about Bryn and it’s not pretty. We need to make an official statement regarding your relationship before they paint the situation as something it’s not.
What is the situation?
Our relationship?
How do I phrase “she’s the woman I’m in love with but accused of betraying me for money” in a positive light?
Familiar knocking redirects my focus on the problems that are literally on my doorstep. Park peers his face around the blockade and questions, “May I come in, sir?”
One head gesture is all it takes to get him into the room where he immediately resumes talking.
“Miss Astrid’s claims that Clyde Ortiz – the individual she lied about assaulting her – has been the one selling false stories to the media regarding the day-to-day activities of the estate are confirmed.” Park folds his hands behind his back giving me a clear view of his holstered weapon. “He is indeed involved in a physical relationship with one Miss Emily Knowles and has been using it to extract information that he then periodically sells to the higher bidder.”
Great.
More lies.
More deception.
More rips on the page of trust.
“From the minor interrogation we conducted this morning, Knowles had no previous knowledge of his behavior and Ortiz was simply doing it to help provide for himself as he has been unable to find work since his dismal.”
Of course, it’s been a struggle.
You get fired from my estate; you’re basically blackballed.
“Knowles is stationed in interrogation room one and Ortiz is in three, both guarded by men awaiting your decision on how to proceed.”
“Give them to legal.” Lowering my hands to my lap is followed by an exasperated sigh, “Let them decide the best course of actions to keep them alive and quiet.”
“Roger that.”
“And Miss Astrid?”
“She’s waiting in interrogation room two.” Park doesn’t wait for me to actually ask my question before he answers it. “Mr. Baker and Ms. Winters are waiting in the hall to speak to you whenever you’re ready.”
“Send them in.”
He curtly nods, spins on his heels, and exits the room.
