Page 28 of Perfect Satisfaction

JB’s massaging the tension from my shoulders. “I’ve read it several times. He’s got some cheek.”

I surge out of my chair, too full of rage to sit still. JB eyes me warily. “What do you need?”

“A hitman,” I answer immediately.

“Short of that. Attorneys for Angie?”

I wave away his suggestion. “Ward is one. Plus, she works for Carys. God, JB, what is this going to do to her? That’s her safe haven.”

“Whatever she needs . . .” he begins.

At that moment, my cell rings and her beautiful face displays on my screen. I flip the screen in his direction announcing, “It’s her.”

I put the phone on speaker and tell her, “JB’s with me. Whatever you need, it’s yours.”

“I’m going to commit murder,” she fumes.

“Where are you?”

“I left for a few minutes. I just needed a break.” Then I hear the screech of tires before she yells, “Shit! Damn paps!”

JB’s frantically writing on a scratch pad on the edge of his desk. He rips off the paper and hands it to me. Two words are written and underlined: BEACH HOUSE. I nod in agreement. “Angie, get Ward and go to the beach house.” The house my parents lived in for part of the year while they endured marriage to each other is a perfect getaway. Also, Angie knows from previous time spent there it’s secluded and she and Ward can escape the onslaught of the press until this, too, blows over.

Her tears are evident through her laughter. “Because that’s a place where so many happy memories occurred.”

“Yes. You and Ward happened there,” I retort.

She’s silent before admitting, “You’re right.”

Quickly, I plow on, “You know what the house in Rhode Island is like—enormous, isolated. Only our family knows about it, and sure as the devil, none of us are going to betray you.” JB nods emphatically in agreement.

I take Angie’s silence as assent. “Do you remember where the key is?”

“I’m pulling into the garage and trying not to take out a few reporters. Text Ward.”

“Where is he?” I demand.

“At the house, packing our stuff,” she admits. “It’s scary when your best friend and your husband think alike.”

Seconds later, she disconnects. My fingers begin flying.The spare key is located beneath the third flowerpot on the right. Once you get there, turn off your cell. You’ve been there before and know there’s no cable, no internet. All you have to do is turn off your phone and the whole world will disappear.

Ward offers a token protest.Sula, we need to get food.

Instacart. In fact, I’m ordering food right now. By the time you get there, you’ll be stocked for the next two weeks. Consider this my thank you for getting me home back in June.

Sula, there was no thanks needed.

Ward, please. The only thing I ask is you text me when you arrive.

He replies.Deal. We’re out. Thanks.

After I finish texting, I turn to my brother. “Who do we know that can investigate if she has a right to legally retaliate against StellaNova?”

JB’s eyes narrow. “Give me a few minutes. I’ll find out.”

In the meanwhile, I pull up Brendan’s US Instacart account he created under his long time road manager Smith’s name. Within a few moments, I start clicking on food I know will both comfort Angie and Ward and sustain them in the cold winter weather waiting for them in Westerly, Rhode Island.

All in an effort not to cry the tears threatening as JB calls our personal lawyer shouting, “While you’re at it, figure out what it will take to get Sula out of this farce of a marriage.”