Chapter 15
Early afternoon, Naomi’s office at the Resort
After a too-long lunch with too few Diet Cokes, it was time for wedding planning. Naomi had an office in the center of the resort. The vibe was boho glam with flowing curtains and soft fabrics with gold fixtures. The walls were decorated with pictures of Jasmine and Genesis.
The TV was on. Naomi wasn’t just watching; she was glued to it.
“And I didn’t think we got screen time at this resort.”
Naomi startled at Gabby’s voice. She placed a finger over her lips. “Shhh. We don’t. But I’m a recovering CNN junkie.”
Gabby squinted. Seeing Naomi in front of a TV reminded her. Naomi wasn’t just a news junkie; she had been on the news. “You were a reporter, weren’t you?”
“Yep. I got my ass outta that rat race when I got the chance, but I still like to see what my peeps are up to.”
Naomi seemed like an obvious candidate to be selling stories to the media. She had the connections.
Gabby filed away that information as she pulled up a chair. “What are we watching?”
“The only thing anyone on TV can talk about,” Naomi said. “A photo of Amanda with President Simon has surfaced. But it’s not like they have anything to say about it.” Naomi picked up the remote to click it off, but Gabby held up her hand.
“No, I want to see it too,” Gabby said. Trying to modulate her overeager tone, she added, “I’ve been going into screen withdrawals, and I’ve only been here for a day.”
“Fair enough. Want a coffee while you rot your brain?”
“Yes, please!” Naomi was rapidly becoming Gabby’s favorite person.
Gabby relaxed into the chair with a cup of black coffee and the TV on. “Catch me up,” Gabby said.
Naomi went into newscaster mode. “There have been two developments. Number one, the president not only knew her, but there is some speculation that there was a romantic connection between the two.”
“Based on what?”
“It’s pretty loosey-goosey, but allegedly there are some questionable texts, and it seems President Simon has been to her private residence, which isn’t the norm for a president. Why the hell go to her house with his security detail? Doesn’t make any sense.”
This was juicy.
“The White House Press Secretary is giving a statement and taking questions tomorrow, supposedly.”
“Is the president a suspect?”
“There are theories flying all over. A lot of people think someone was trying to keep her quiet before she published some big story.”
“A story bigger than having an affair with the president?”
“Don’t ask me,” Naomi said.
Gabby chewed on that for a second. If Sheridan knew something about Amanda Duvall, no wonder the president was eager to get her off gossip island.
“So how did you all know Amanda? Was she part of Inner-G?”
“She’s been here before,” said Naomi, nonchalantly.
“What? Like at this resort?”
Was she visiting or doing a story? Alarm bells were going off in Gabby’s head. If Amanda was doing some sort of takedown on Inner-G, there were so many more suspects. She was tired just thinking about it. One way or another, it wasn’t a coincidence.
With finality, Naomi shut off the TV and turned to Gabby. “But enough of that. We have a wedding to plan.”
“What was Amanda like?” Gabby asked.
“Amanda was an icon,” Naomi said. “She quit the Post when Jeff Bezos bought it to start ThinkPiece. Amanda was doing big things, taking down people with money and power without having to please the billionaires running the media.” Naomi dabbed at her eyes. “Sorry.”
“It’s okay. We need more people like her.” Gabby didn’t want to turn her attention away from the Amanda story, but she had a cover to maintain.
“These are photos from other weddings we’ve hosted.” Naomi pushed some lookbooks her way, and Gabby selected the first one.
“Anything you see in here, we can do without any trouble. Well, except for the zip line one. The bride’s dress got caught on some branches on the way down. Ripped the train right off.”
Gabby laughed. “No zip lining to the altar, got it.”
“Great.”
“How long have you been part of Inner-G?” Gabby asked as she flipped through pictures.
“Since the beginning.”
Gabby nodded. As far as she knew, that was about five years ago.
“As the Big G says, I’m an Inner-G OG.”
Gabby laughed. “Does he know that other people use the letter G?” The letter stood for so many things: Gangsta, homie, grand, “it’s all cool.” He acted like he owned the letter G.
“Probably not. He’s in his own world.” Naomi gestured to the surroundings. “That’s what this is.”
Men were ridiculous, running around the world naming stuff after themselves: kids, mountains, roads, schools.
You just didn’t see women acting like that.
Her name, Gabby, started with the letter G.
She had a necklace with a golden “G” charm, but that was it.
This man, though, had basically started a religion based on the first letter of his name.
Gabby frowned at the gorgeous wedding pictures. They all looked like fantasy weddings, but they also looked like a thousand choices when she should probably be doing something else, like chasing down the leak. “Can I just pick a wedding package? I’m not much of a planner.”
Gabby must have looked overwhelmed because Naomi shook her head and said, “I got you. Let’s just start with the basics: a place to say the vows, a menu, a dress—all the standard stuff.”
“That’s still a lot.”
“It’s going to be beautiful,” Naomi assured her. “Let’s just pick a few things.” She passed Gabby some cake samples. “We can start with a fun part.”
Gabby took a bite of the cupcake. “Ohmygod, is this buttercream?”
Naomi laughed. “Yes.”
“Never mind. Let’s plan weddings all day.
” Gabby took another bite and practically melted into the chair while she admitted to herself that she was addicted to sugar.
And to screens. It’s not like she was eating candy bars at home, but cutting out sugar cold turkey was not good for a person’s mental health.
What had Jasmine said earlier? Sugars and trans fats don’t just block arteries and nerve conduction; they block your energy.
Gabby moaned. “You’re my favorite person here.” Before she could overthink it, she picked a chocolate strawberry cake. One decision made!
Naomi smiled. “Let’s go check out a few spots for the ceremony. We’ll see which one has the right energy. You’ll know it when you feel it.
“There’s the G-hut. It’s built for ceremonies, and the view is to-die-for.”
Gabby shuddered. The G-hut was too DaVinci Code. What else had been tossed down that hole besides her phone?
Naomi laughed. “The G-hut is intensely spiritual.”
That was one word for it.
She gestured for Gabby to follow. “Let’s take a walk.”
The first stop was a large room in the Inner-G lodge. “Here’s the sanctuary. This is where we gather for GTs.”
Gabby perked up. “Gin and tonics?” Finally, someone was speaking her language.
Naomi laughed her off with a wave. “You wish.”
“There really aren’t any drugs here? What about ayahuasca?” It’s not like she wanted to try it, but if she didn’t try it here, when would she?”
Naomi asked, “What do you think?”
It was a beautiful indoor/outdoor space with seating for a small army. “Is there anything more intimate?” She would prefer not to invite everyone who’d ever been involved in Inner-G.
“Outdoor?”
“Definitely,” said Gabby. “We’re in paradise. No sense being inside.”
“You’re right. Sometimes I forget.” After grabbing some G-shots “to make up for the cupcakes,” Naomi led them down to the beach.
“What is a radical molecule anyway?”
Naomi stood up straighter and recited, “An energy-clearing ingredient derived from native plants. When you first get here, G recommends at least five shots a day to clear the toxins.” She walked down a beautiful path.
“Your toxic load is going to reduce drastically after you’re here for a few days.
Did they hook you up to a tox-o-meter when you arrived? ”
“Um, no.”
“It’s amazing,” Naomi rhapsodized. “Three days of G-shots, clean living, yoga, and a balanced life, and your toxic load just drops. You’ll be lighter and think clearer.
Better sleep and better—” Naomi cleared her throat.
In a loud whisper, she said, “And better sex.” She fanned her face.
“I didn’t know what I was missing until I tapped into my inner-G and detoxed from the noise. ”
It’s not like she didn’t want all those things, but it sounded like a MUD\WTR ad, or anything with mushrooms. Her social media was fat with the promise of mushrooms to change her life. “Is there a mushroom component to Inner-G?”
Naomi’s eyebrows drew together, her expression confused. “Why do you ask?”
“It’s just that I keep seeing ads for mushroom this and mushroom that. They all say better sex, better sleep, better brain.”
“Oh.” Naomi shook her head. “That sounds like a bunch of mumbo-jumbo marketing. Inner-G is different than that because it’s not a product; it’s a practice.”
Hmmm. Maybe.
They emerged from a feng shui’d path to a beautiful horseshoe-shaped beach.
The G-hut marked one end of the horseshoe, and the other end was a rocky isthmus of volcanic rock.
In the way of tropical beaches, the water in the bay was graduated shades of turquoise, ranging from white sand to the color of a romance heroine’s eyes, in other words, a shade of blue that no eye had ever been.
“We could put up an arch over there.” Naomi gestured down the sand toward the isthmus. “With the lava rock and the water, this place has a lot of elemental energy.”
“It’s perfect,” Gabby said. She couldn’t imagine a prettier spot for her pretend wedding.
Beyond the G-hut and the docks, a luxury yacht was in a slip close enough for Gabby to have a good view of the deck. While she took in every detail of the fanciest boat she’d ever seen, Jasmine emerged in a bikini and oversized sunglasses. Her sheer cover-up blew in the breeze like a cape.
Naomi followed Gabby’s gaze. With her eyes locked on the boat, she gasped. “Ohmygod. That would be so cool if G let you get married on the yacht.” Naomi frowned as she considered G’s reaction, which Gabby figured was unlikely.
“G only invites the luckiest inner circle members to the G-Spot. It’s almost brand-new. He bought it, like, a month ago.”
“Did you say the G-spot?”
Naomi smiled. “That’s the yacht’s name.”
Gabby had been looking for the G-spot.
“Sunrise on the yacht. That would be beautiful!” Naomi walked toward the boat as she planned the wedding. “Fairy lights, flowers, a violin player on deck—it would be gorgeous.”
“Sunrise sounds too early for me!” Especially for a fake wedding. Gabby stumbled after Naomi.
“Don’t worry, Gia. After a week of G-shots and balanced living, you’re barely going to need foundation. The initial glow-up is so incredible. I almost want to quit and start over just so I can experience the change again.
“I’m going to see what Jazz thinks,” Naomi said, heading even closer to the boat. Just as Naomi started to call out, Jasmine yelled.
“YOU DID WHAT? How are we going to pay for that?”
“… For you, baby,” G answered.
“No. Absolutely not! We don’t have the money.”
“Money’s not a problem. Look at us—” He gestured to the surroundings.
She stomped down a staircase in a huff, but he followed. “We have each other. What more could we need?”
Gabby strained to hear more, but they were now behind closed doors.
“I’m sorry you heard that. Sometimes helping everyone else can wear on our leaders.”
Gabby smiled, but that sounded like more than a healthy airing of grievances.
She’d been there with Phil. He’d tried to buy their way to happiness with things too, as if a bigger TV and a Weber grill could save their marriage.
The only ones who really came out ahead in that situation were their creditors.
You can’t buy happiness if you’re putting it on a credit card. If you’re going to buy happiness, you probably need cash.
Before afternoon yoga, Gabby snuck back to the cottage for some internet sleuthing.
She found ThinkPiece on Substack, a platform Gabby wasn’t quite hip enough to be familiar with. It seemed like Etsy for journalists.
There was nothing specifically about the president in Amanda’s list of recent posts, and no article about Inner-G.
Believe it or not, there was something about Sheridan.
Amanda, apparently, had broken the news that the president had a psychic and had proceeded to dig into the implications for democracy. Gabby hadn’t realized there were any.
The President’s Psychic
President Simon staunchly defends his choice to consult a psychic on any matter he so chooses, personal or policy.
“Sheridan has more common sense than my entire cabinet put together. She’s logical, and she doesn’t get bogged down with emotion.
She’s my most clear-headed advisor. Sheridan might be a woman, but she’s the best man I know. ”
Which is the crux of the problem. Our president is leaning on a psychic to make decisions that carry national and international consequences.
She wasn’t elected. She wasn’t appointed and cleared by Congress.
She doesn’t even have an appropriate security clearance.
President Simon found her on the internet, and she’s weighing in on national policy.
No one cares except a few NPR listeners, who, for the most part, seem to like her. She does seem to be smarter than the people in charge. But still, maybe she should run for office herself, instead of influencing politics through tarot.
Well, this was a hot take Gabby hadn’t known was there. Amanda was low-key saying that Sheridan was puppeteering the president, like she was Dick Cheney or something.
Gabby rolled that over in her mind. The way Amanda was calling her out, Sheridan might have motive to: 1) kill Amanda and 2) drag her reputation.
Sheridan, the woman who wanted them out of her face, could be the problem.