“He’s hit a few guys,” she mused. “He got in that fight on-set, remember?”
“I’m not likely to forget. That’s the reason you refused to work for him anymore.”
Ignoring the censure in his voice, she proceeded to prove it wasn’t the only reason. “What about that time a few months ago when he tried to force his way into his ex-wife’s house and got in a shoving match with her brother?”
“Maybe he had a good reason for what he did.”
“On both counts?”
“That’s how we tried to spin it,” he said with a shrug.
“He could’ve walked away.”
“We both know he’s not the type. Too short a fuse.”
“That’s no excuse.” She searched for other examples to support her “Simon’s unstable” theory. “And those bikers?”
Joshua adjusted the scarf he wore with his pink button-down shirt. “I think he wanted to get his ass kicked that night. Why else would he drive to the shitty side of town and confront so many dangerous gangbangers? He was all alone, had no chance from the beginning.”
That was what she thought, too. Nothing else made sense. After the judge signed the restraining order that would keep Simon from his wife and son, he found a seedy bar he later admitted he’d never been to before, one with a row of motorcycles out front, and picked a fight with three Hells Angels. They would’ve destroyed his face, maybe a lot more, if not for one of their own. Fortunately, a member of the club happened to be a big fan. He saved Simon an extended hospital stay by pulling the others off and pushing him out of the joint while he could still walk—but the biker later confessed he was disappointed that Simon didn’t really know kung fu. He’d expected more from him after watching Take It or Leave It, Simon’s most violent movie.
“Honestly? I think the worst he’s done is cheat,” Joshua said.
“You say that like it’s nothing.”
“It’s nothing to you.”
She cocked her head in challenge. “I’m only his future wife!”
He cocked his head right back at her, exaggerating the movement. “But you don’t love him. Cheating on you would be more of a…breach of contract.”
“It’ll be adultery to the rest of the world! And he might have other problems, ones we haven’t discovered yet. Maybe he’s a sex addict.” He’d certainly made a big enough deal about her refusal to service him....
“You should ask.”
“I did. Ian and I talked about the possibility last night. He says no. Claims there were extenuating circumstances to Simon’s extramarital affairs.”
“Like…he got bored and horny?” Josh said with a laugh.
“Ian doesn’t know for sure. He thinks she may have cheated first, but he can’t substantiate that and it doesn’t really make sense. Wouldn’t Simon have said so if it meant keeping custody of Ty?”
“No doubt.” Josh swung his foot. “You didn’t confront Simon himself?”
“I’d already called him an alcoholic. I didn’t think it would go over too well if I accused him of being a sex addict, too.”
“So what do you want me to say, Gail? Don’t do it?”
The anger drained out of her. “More or less.”
“Then don’t do it. We’ll…go into promoting beauty products or something.”
If that happened, she’d have to start over alone. “What about Sonya? And Serge? And you and everyone else? I have to do this.”
“Then keep Simon in bed.”
“Excuse me?”
Eager to convey his point, he leaned forward. “If you’re so worried he might stray, keep him in bed, darling. Don’t give him time for anyone else.”
Sometimes Gail wished she could be as sexually unfettered as her assistant. She was beginning to feel a lot older than she was.
What are you doing this weekend?
Working.
Any plans for Friday night?
Catching up on some paperwork.
Tell me you have a hot date for Valentine’s Day.
With my television.
She’d fallen to a new low when she went to a movie alone on her birthday. She was still mad at herself for not heading back to Whiskey Creek, but she’d been so slammed with new clients she hadn’t wanted to take the time off.
“Thanks for that piece of advice, but I don’t want to talk about what I should do to keep Simon interested on a sexual level.” He wasn’t interested to begin with.
“Why not? You can do it. So what if you’re a late starter?”
“I’m not a late starter. I’m selective.”
Josh formed a steeple with his fingers. “You didn’t lose your virginity until you were twenty-six. That definitely qualifies as a late start.”
She should never have admitted that. Josh had a way of getting personal information out of anyone.
“I was twenty-five,” she corrected. “But who’s keeping track?”
“Just me.”
“Thanks for that.”
“Maybe it’s good you’re tying the knot. Maybe this is the only way you’ll ever say ‘I do,’ seeing as you cross every guy off your list before you even give him a chance.”
“Before I sleep with him, you mean.”
“Same thing.”
She arched an eyebrow. “Not quite.”
A soft knock interrupted them, which surprised her. She’d figured they were alone.
Bracing herself in case it was the beginning of the media onslaught—some reporter who’d somehow gotten in—Gail called out, “Yes?”
It wasn’t a reporter. It was Ashley, her receptionist, who poked her head into the room. “Thought I might catch you here.”
“What brings you to the office on your day off?” Gail asked.
“The answering service contacted me. They’re being inundated with calls from a guy with The Star, who claims he has to talk to someone in the office right away.” Barely five feet, Ashley looked more like a child than a twenty-one-year-old woman. Her large-framed glasses added to the effect; they always gave Gail the impression she was playing dress-up. “I thought maybe it was important, that someone should get back to him.”
Joshua’s eyes latched on to Gail’s. “You know what this means.”
“I do. Word is getting out.” It was time to quit fighting what she’d agreed to do and throw herself into her role. If they had any hope of pulling off this campaign, there could be no halfway measures. She had to play the part even for her own employees.