72. Chapter Seventy-Two
Chapter Seventy-Two
Kat
Iwas reading through the email I knew I’d be getting from my advisory committee in a numb, detached sort of way as I waited to scan through the gates.
And I was signing the paperwork to make Bex CEO and Tam COO and to split my stake in the company between the two of them, making them equal and majority owners, as I scanned through.
I had been preparing myself for it, over the last few hours of mind-numbing work. And I had been rationalizing to myself that I wasn’t losing anything there, not really. My girls would continue my work, save what they could, and help whoever they could. Just like we had been doing.
I just wouldn’t be there.
And that would be okay. It would have to be.
I shot an email off to Anthony at UNICEF, asking if he had any long-term volunteer opportunities that would suit me. I thought maybe that would be a good way to spend my time. Doing good. Helping. Making people’s lives better SOMEWHERE at least.
I was deep in thought as I crossed into the paddock, and I didn’t see it coming.
Honestly, I was so sleep-deprived and distracted, I could’ve been staring right at her and not seen it coming.
But cold, fizzy liquid hit me in the face. The hair. The chest. The SLING. And I froze.
“How dare you show your face here you… you… SKANK!” a high-pitched, indignant voice screamed at me.
I’ll take woman who threw the soda at me for five hundred, Alex.
I forced my eyes open, forced a sardonic smile to my face, even as photographers forced their way toward me, snapping furiously.
Fucking vermin.
I glanced down briefly and saw my bright red lacy bra clear as day through the white fabric. That was really a construction flaw in these shirts. Thick white fabric that didn’t show anything underneath? That was EXCELLENT for a woman.
But walk into even a humid city? Tits galore.
APPARENTLY.
I sighed and looked back up at the woman, who looked a little surprised I wasn’t screaming or crying.
Same, sister.
I stuck my tongue out and deliberately licked some of the soda off my nose.
“Mhm, root beer! My favorite!” I said lightly, damn near cheerfully.
I tossed the now utterly flabbergasted woman a saucy wink and turned away, trying to find the quickest way to cover.
But I kept my head held high as the paparazzi continued to snap pictures. I was sure there was video somewhere, too.
Suddenly, though, a large green jacket was being wrapped around me, the person doing the wrapping between me and the cameras. All I caught was a quick ‘this way’ before she was leading me down a back alley I hadn’t known existed.
Here’s hoping I wasn’t being kidnapped again.
I’d be sticky FOREVER.
I was being walked through some sort of odd loading space, and then slipped through a back door into somewhere, and then was suddenly in a room that looked very similar to Henry’s but was decidedly not.
“Jack’s off doing media bullshit right now, so I knew we’d have the place to ourselves. Here, this is all we’ve got for you to wear, sorry,” she said confidently and quickly, but skipping over who the hell she was. Except. Wait.
“Jack?” I asked, looking around and seeing the green of Highline’s team.
“Violet, right?” I asked as a follow up. She grinned, tossing her black hair over her shoulder. The movement showed me the rainbow peek-a-boo layer she had hiding under the thicker top layer.
“I love your hair!” I blurted. Her warm brown eyes lit up behind her glasses as she clapped her hands together in an excited manner.
“I love your bra!” she said back, and I laughed out loud. And then I kept laughing. It was starting to sound a little unhinged. A lot unhinged. But I couldn’t stop.
Didn’t stop.
Even when the tears leaked out sideways a little. I just ignored them. But I realized the smile had fallen off of Violet’s face, so I forced the hysterics back to inside Kat voices.
“Kat?” she asked, sounding very hesitant. I let out one more bark of laughter, and this one didn’t sound amused at all.
“Yep! You recognize me from the documentary or the internet?” I asked lightly, even as my hands shook. I finally glanced down at what she had handed me. It was a much too big, much too green team shirt, and much too not Blackstone for my meeting with, well, Blackstone.
But I had no choice. Because I had no time.
“Uh, well I was supposed to meet you the other day, but I got stuck in Madrid on business,” she started. As she paused, she winced.
“But I recognize you from the internet,” she finished. Perfect.
“Awesome. Did they at least get my good side?” I joked, unable to cut through the sarcastic defense.
“You were shining like a gold bar and wearing a tuxedo-ed F1 driver like a shawl, so I’d say yes,” she hedged.
I knew I’d like this girl.
Too bad, just like everything else.
I couldn’t keep her.