Chapter 14
Morning tea, Jasmine’s “office”
With the smell of Markus’s aftershave still tickling her senses, Gabby tripped her way toward Jasmine’s beach “office.” It was another small building, tucked along the edges of the Japanese gardens.
At the door, she stopped to take a breath and collect herself.
Her mission: Find out who in the inner circle had motive and means to drag the president’s reputation or just seemed like they might have been selling stories to the press.
Jasmine’s voice sounded clearly through the door. “Lana, what are you thinking?”
In the interest of spying, Gabby listened longer than was strictly necessary. When Lana didn’t give a fascinating answer, Gabby gave a little “yoo-hoo.”
“Gia, I didn’t think you were coming. I thought George was going to keep you for the whole hour.” Jasmine’s voice dripped with suggestion. “I wouldn’t have blamed you.”
“Oh, I wouldn’t miss this.” A little sassy, she said, “George can wait.”
Jasmine’s “office” was a luxury beach cabana—a wooden frame with walls made of gauze.
Persian rugs, antique furniture, and China tea service within feet of the surf.
It was about ten times more luxurious and sensual than Gabby’s redesigned bedroom.
Deep pink touchable fabrics and couches you wanted to sink into, open to a salty ocean breeze and frothy ocean waves. Justin would die.
“This is sort of my she-shed. You remember that trend?”
Gabby almost laughed at Jasmine’s description of this as a Pinterest-worthy converted garden shed.
Gabby had started clearing out a shed in the yard with dreams of painting it mint green and installing flower boxes.
By the time she’d moved three rakes, Kyle and Lucas figured out where she was.
The she-shed was only an achievable fantasy if the kids weren’t already looking for you.
“It’s my secret hiding place.” Jasmine winked, although who was Jasmine hiding from? The woman had a mansion overlooking the ocean and no kids.
The butler carried in a tray of matcha drinks and cut fruit.
“There’s so much good food here,” Gabby said, thinking of the swimsuit in her luggage. “I don’t know how you all stay so slim.”
“When you eat clean, it shows.” Jasmine smiled in a way that made Gabby feel judged.
“Are you calling me out on the frozen pizza and wine?” Gabby joked.
Jasmine’s expression was one of pure horror. “Definitely.”
At least Granny had added some real food to her diet recently, but pierogies weren’t low calorie. Gabby was on the babushka diet.
Jasmine gestured to the other women at teatime. “Gabby, this is Naomi Schwartz and Lana Hunt.”
Gabby had definitely found the inner circle.
Gabby reached out to shake Naomi’s hand.
From the dossier EOD had provided, Gabby knew Naomi was fifty, but she could pass for thirty-five.
She was built like an athlete, and her brown skin glistened with what Gabby guessed was Jasmine’s inner glow serum.
Naomi was apparently Jasmine’s right-hand woman.
She’d been a member of Inner-G for several years and oversaw various aspects of the group.
If Gabby ignored her athleticism, Naomi seemed more relatable than some of the other people at Inner-G.
Lana Hunt was a famous designer. Huntress was the current It Brand.
Half of Kyle’s friends had Huntress T-shirts.
They couldn’t afford the clothes, but they could get a T-shirt with the logo.
It was a pagan Ralph Lauren, the silhouette of a naked woman on horseback holding a drawn bow.
All of Lana’s looks were ethereal, lots of gauzy fabric and one-shouldered designs, but with a goth edge.
Wood nymphs and fairies, but deadly. Kyle had bought a knockoff Huntress dress to wear to the eighth-grade dance last month.
It hadn’t been a particularly good look for an eighth grader, but Gabby had just smiled and taken a picture.
Looking dumb in eighth grade was a rite of passage.
Lana gave Gabby a quick once-over and must have found her wanting because she picked up her conversation with Naomi like Gabby wasn’t even there, which reminded her of Lana’s nickname, the Cuntress. Kind of cunty, kind of fancy.
“George and Gia are our newest members,” Jasmine said, handing Gabby a bowl of clear liquid.
“Is this broth?” Gabby asked.
“Bone broth.”
Gabby stared at the bowl of broth in confusion. It’s not like she had the flu. That’s the only time she’d ever had just broth.
“Bone broth is deeply healing.”
When you have the flu.
“It’s very comforting.”
Macaroni and cheese was more Gabby’s speed when it came to comfort food, but whatever. Bottoms up. Maybe she’d lose some weight before she had to put on a swimsuit.
“On the topic of jobs, what do you do, Gia?” Lana asked. “Are you famous, and I’ve just missed it?”
With a laugh, she said, “No, I’m pretty boring. My husband is more interesting. He’s an inventor.”
“An inventor?” Naomi narrowed her eyes. “What does that mean? Does he just come up with ideas and patent them?”
“George invented—” Her mind went blank. Had they said what he invented? What kind of things did people even invent these days? Then an image came to mind. “He invented the fidget spinner.”
“The what?”
“You must not have kids.” Gabby smiled and looked down her nose, mimicking their superior tone.
“I have one, but he’s grown,” Naomi said. A smile flitted across Naomi’s face as she must have been imagining her grown-up son off doing grown-up things.
“Oh, George only came up with this idea a few years ago, but it’s huge,” Gabby said. “It’s like a little propeller you hold between your thumb and forefinger and then spin. It’s weighted so it keeps spinning.”
“So it doesn’t do anything?”
“It spins.” Lucas had a box of them she was always reminding him to pick up, his focus toys scattered all over the house.
“The Japanese would call that a chindogu,” Lana said.
Lana was clearly hoping Gabby’d ask what that meant. When she didn’t take the bait, Naomi said, “A useless invention, something that seems to solve a problem but causes more trouble in the process. Is that what George specializes in?”
Shots fired. Gabby leaned back and assessed Lana. Who did this woman think she was?
“For your information, the fidget spinner is extremely useful. It helps people with ADHD focus,” Gabby said, making it sound like a medical device.
Lucas had about a hundred of them, all made of plastic and cheap.
They were the kinds of things that would forever pollute the ocean.
All the kids in his class were using exercise balls as chairs, spinning fidgets, and…
how that was supposed to help them learn was beyond her, but whatever.
“Okay, so anyway,” Jasmine said, “Does anyone need more matcha?”
Gabby said yes just to talk about something other than fidget spinners.
While she poured, Jasmine asked, “Did you ever find out if Freddie is sleeping with his assistant, Lana?”
Gabby almost spit out her bone broth. She was out of her league in this group.
Naomi answered for her. “Men are such neanderthals, except for Mr. Fidget Spinner apparently,” and smiled in Gabby’s direction.
Jasmine passed Naomi her tea and said, “Not that you have to worry about it, Naomi.”
“I might be a lesbian, but I have plenty of men to deal with at work.” With amusement, she said, “Your husband, for one.”
Jasmine laughed. “He counts for at least a couple.”
“Did any of you see that story this morning?” Gabby said, doing her best to steer the conversation toward a topic that she was interested in.
“Gia, you’re the only one who had a phone,” Jasmine chided her.
“Oh, that’s right. My bad.” Gabby apologized.
“Now you have to share, though,” Lana said.
“It’s about the Amanda Duvall case,” Gabby said, keeping a close eye on Jasmine’s reaction. As soon as she said Amanda’s name, it was like she’d sucked the air out of the room. All three faces fell.
“What, did you know her?”
“Yeah, we did.”
“All of you?”
That was too weird to be a coincidence. “Was Amanda a member of Inner-G?”
Jasmine smiled, the kind of smile meant to paper over something dark. “Let’s not talk about sad things right now.” She lit some sort of incense and wafted it toward her face.
Wow, this was a hard shutdown of her interview topic. What this told Gabby: Jasmine was hiding something.
“Now that we’ve cleaned the vibes, let’s talk about your wedding. Gia and George are tying the knot this week. Big G has taken them on as his pet project.”
Lana set her drink down. “Gia, do you have a dress yet?”
“Um, yes. Nothing special, though.”
“Well, I would be happy to have a Huntress gown brought in. There are some shops in Lisbon. Unfortunately, they’re only sample size.” Her gaze seemed to linger on Gabby’s tummy control panel. “I’m not sure if we’d have time to do the alterations.”
“Um… thank you.” Did Lana just call her fat or offer her a free designer gown, or both?
“You’re welcome.”
Before Lana could arrange the details, Jasmine brought out a mallet and tapped a small ceremonial gong with a dramatic flourish.
When the sound faded, everyone prepared to leave.
Gabby had learned two things at matcha hour: 1) No one wanted to talk about Amanda Duvall, and 2) Jasmine didn’t have any sense of perspective.
Ending a conversation with friends with a gong was bonkers but also a great idea. Maybe Gabby should get one for home.
As she stood to leave, Naomi looked directly at Gabby and said, “Go grab some lunch, and I’ll see you in an hour.”
Gabby tried to recall her schedule. “Wedding planning?”
“Yep, I’m on duty.”
“Really?” Gabby had never expected someone so high up in the organization to help with wedding details.
“Naomi insisted, right, Naomi?” Jasmine said.
“Actually, G insisted.” Naomi laughed. “But I’m happy to do it.”
“Can’t wait!” Gabby was mostly excited to ask some questions without Jasmine shutting her down.