Chapter 10
CHAPTER TEN
OR MAYBE NOT FLYING SOLO
GREER
“This is torture.” Closing her eyes, Maddie put the back of her hand to her forehead and flung herself to the side. “Torture, I say.”
Diners at nearby tables turned to observe her brunch theatrics, but I just shook my head at my bestie. “I’m glad you’re not dramatic.”
She cracked a lid. “But is it working?”
“No. I’m still not telling you what I’m doing today.” She opened her mouth to object, but I cut her off by tacking on, “Not until I ask Tripp if it’s okay.”
“You’re no fun.”
“You say that like it’s not your boyfriend who would sue me.”
“He wouldn’t.”
I arched a brow because we both knew he very much would. As would Tony since his threat had been unwavering.
“Okay, he might. But he wouldn’t be happy about it.”
“That would give me some solace when he leaves me destitute.”
If Wren was there, Maddie could’ve aimed some of her nosiness her way. But our tricycle was more bicycle these days.
Actually, it was often just me, riding in circles on my unicycle.
Using her best friend ESP, Maddie read my mind. “Don’t worry. Wren should be here in a few, and it’ll be her turn for an interrogation. Until then, though, it’s on you.”
“Or you,” I shot back, fighting fire with nosy fire. “I bought a wheel of brie last night, but you weren’t in your apartment to share it. I’m assuming you were with Easton, so was it another night hobnobbing with the rich and famous?”
“You mean as opposed to you, who simply spent your afternoon with famous Tripp Carter at his palatial mansion?”
I rolled my eyes. “Yeah, organizing his calendar.”
“Still hobnobbing with the rich and famous.”
“Don’t try to flip this back to me. What exciting event did you have last night?”
“None. We stayed in.” The blush on her cheeks made it obvious who stayed in what…
Concern softened her expression. “But brie? What’s wrong? Is the new job that bad?”
I couldn’t blame her superhero-esque leap to conclusions on her penchant for the dramatics. Cheese had always been my go-to coping mechanism when I was stressed.
Or sad.
Or drunk.
I’d been two of the three and on my way to the trifecta the night before, but I’d fallen asleep on my couch before I could fix a second drink.
A real wild night for me.
I wasn’t ready to get into the cause of my stress and sadness. Not with her. Hell, not with myself. If I thought about it too much, the decadent French toast in my stomach would turn to sludge churning in a cement mixer, and that was a crime.
So I did what I did best when stress hit.
I boxed up the unpleasantness to deal with a different time—like the fourth of never—and evaded my friend. “I just wanted cheese for dinner. The job is still good. It was nice actually doing something to earn that unreasonable salary.”
“I only met Alex a few times, but he seemed pretty worthless, so I’m sure you’ll have lots of opportunities to fix his mistakes.”
That should’ve been depressing, but I was strangely looking forward to it.
“I still don’t get why Tripp didn’t fire him sooner,” Maddie continued. “Other than he’d lose his party bro. But maybe this means Easton and I won’t have to go break up anymore house parties.”
I thought about navigating through the evidence of his rager. “I wouldn’t rule that out. Unless his house was in that condition yesterday because a panty bomb detonated.”
She choked back a cackle, and her whispered voice was a mix of horrified and amused. “A panty bomb?”
“Technically, it was just one thong left behind, but it had a phone number written on it.”
“What a talented vagina.”
“I’d be more impressed if it could write in cursive.”
There was no holding back the laughter from either of us, but Maddie did it while shaking her head. “At least this job is more interesting than getting coffees and ass slaps from that bro firm.” Her head froze. “Wait, was there anyone else in his bed?”
I shook my head.
Though this morning might be a different story.
In my early morning doomscroll before yoga, I’d seen a few pictures and videos of Tripp and a hottie outside of a nightclub.
According to the captions, they’d been leaving just shortly before I’d woken up.
Only one of the posts had mentioned that they’d gone their separate ways but heavily implied they could be reconvening somewhere private.
Pun intended.
I knew it was inevitable that I would find him in bed with someone—or someones.
Tripp was insanely attractive. Funny. Shockingly thoughtful.
He had an easy charm that came across as an even easier flirtation.
That was appealing enough, but he also had this ability to make whoever he was talking to feel like the center of the universe.
He wasn’t distracted by work—though that would be justified.
He didn’t split his focus between listening to me and scrolling his phone.
Any time I spoke, he was locked in like I was sharing the most fascinating secrets of the world and not explaining which color pen meant what.
It was why he was successful. It was also why there was a heavy rotation of starlets and models he was linked to in gossip blogs. And even that was likely nothing compared to how many actually warmed his bed.
Or guest bed.
Or the pool table, if that discarded pile of clothes was any indication.
Though I would prefer not to witness any of the nitty gritty nudity, the rest was none of my business.
My phone buzzed on my lap, and my good mood plummeted in an instant. Every muscle in my body tensed around my bones—something that ached worse after a morning of grueling yoga. With my heart in my throat and my stomach a knot of dread, I snuck a peek at the screen before letting out a deep exhale.
TC: Good morning, Greer.
Me: Morning, boss. Everything okay?
TC: Just letting you know I’m awake and not in danger of missing the shoot again. Are you still available today?
I wasn’t. I had a huge final assignment for my Business Ownership course, and it was hell.
No, it was worse than hell.
I’d assumed the class would be a breeze.
I liked to think I was a good person. An ethical person.
When we dug into what corporations did—and often got away with—I was always shocked that people could even think up that kind of shady shit.
It seemed more time consuming, anxiety-inducing, and convoluted than just playing fair.
But my professor liked to push us into the uncomfortable—challenging our unconscious microaggressions, greed, and self-preservation in an attempt to make us better future leaders.
For the final paper, we were supposed to hold a mirror up to our own flaws by examining where our personal line was in the quest for money and success before barreling us past that marker.
Not only were we tasked with coming up with an unethical business practice, we needed to delve into the impact of what would happen to us and our fictional company when we were caught.
I couldn’t glaze over the assignment by insisting I was all rainbows and glitter cupcakes. But it was hard to push myself into the territory I needed to go.
Especially since every time I sat down to work on the paper, my mind inevitably went to my father and our imploded family.
Hence why I was running behind and didn’t have a second day in a row to spare.
But I also had a job to do—and a salary to earn.
And if that happened to give me an excuse to avoid schoolwork and thoughts of my father…
Me: Yup, I’ll be there.
Okay, I’m here.
Now where the hell is there?
After giving my name at the gate, I’d been handed a pass and waved through with general directions of where to find Tripp’s sound stage. Which I’d followed.
Or so I’d thought.
The lot was massive and so many of the buildings looked the same.
The numbers also didn’t go in order because of course they didn’t.
What sense would that make? I wasn’t sure if I was circling the same places or if I was now on the opposite side of where I needed to be.
But like a reoccurring nightmare, the minutes ticked on as I became more and more lost until I was running late.
Late to be early, but still.
Late.
Giving up, I pulled into an empty spot and grabbed my phone.
Me: Are you almost here?
Tripp’s response came a lot quicker than I’d anticipated since I’d guessed he was driving.
I’d guessed wrong.
TC: Already here. Where are you?
Me: That’s the million-dollar question. I’m in the lot… somewhere.
He asked a few more questions about what was around before texting again.
TC: Wait there.
Me: I can find it if someone tells me where to go.
He didn’t respond, so I grabbed my bag and got out. I’d assumed he would send some other gofer to retrieve me, but after a few minutes, it was Tripp himself who strode across the lot.
Wow.
There was a timeless, almost old-school coolness about his look. His overgrown hair was pushed back instead of falling across his forehead like it usually did. His well-fitting dark gray slacks with a structured black tee tucked in reminded me of a classic movie heartthrob.
Well, except for the paper bib thingy that was still stuck in his collar, blowing in the cool breeze.
And the makeup that was dotted on his face.
That should’ve dulled his attractiveness and made him look ridiculous, but he was as effortlessly fashionable and handsome as always.
Especially when he smiled at me, and his gray eyes crinkled at the outer corners. “I was beginning to think you were ditching me for Maddie.”
She must’ve told him about our Sunday brunches.
“Not this week,” I said. I had been tempted to stay a little longer since Wren had shown up just as I was leaving, but I’d dragged myself away.
Good thing, too, otherwise I would’ve actually been late.
Or later since my boss had clearly already gotten started.
“You’re here early,” I noted, fishing for information if that was a typical occurrence I needed to plan for.
“Traffic was light.”