The Lying Season (Seasons #1) - K.A. Linde Page 0,89
person doesn’t need a publicist. They need an attorney.”
“You’d be shocked at how often those two things go hand in hand.”
I managed a laugh. “And…something else happened last night.”
English arched an eyebrow.
“Claire came back and declared her love for Sam.”
“Oh shit. What did he do? Tell her to fuck off?”
I shook my head. “No, she was blubbering about how much she’d messed up. He…decided to talk to her. Told me to go to the party. He’d text me and meet me there. But he didn’t…he never texted, and he only showed up two hours later after the party was raided. I made him take Court home and told him I’d talk to him tomorrow. Well, now, today.”
“Fuck that shit! Two hours later!” English seethed. “What is with men? Why are they all so awful? I just…I thought Sam was good for you. I was the one who convinced you to see this through. Now, look at the bullshit he pulled. Look at the bullshit Josh pulled,” she finished in a whisper as her anger died down to grief.
“When I saw Claire, I wanted to break her into pieces. But I don’t know what to think about Sam.”
English laughed. “Bad Lark came out to play.”
“More or less. And I don’t want to be that person. I just want to be me and also not get stepped all over. Like, how hard is it to send a text message?”
English shrugged. “How hard is it not to fuck someone else?”
“I’m sorry.”
“It’s not your fault. And this isn’t your fault either. I’m anti-men right now. So, I’m all cut off his balls and feed them to him.”
I chuckled. “I don’t think that’s an option.”
“It could be!” she proclaimed. “But maybe just talk to him? Pray it doesn’t go as poorly as my talk with Josh?”
“Oh yeah, that’s really promising.”
“What’s the worst that could happen?”
I bit my lip. “He decides to get back together with Claire, just like he did with Melissa the last time around.”
“Survive,” English said softly. “Just like me. Talk to him.”
I sighed heavily, but I knew she was right. I was just putting off the inevitable because I was afraid that during those two hours, he’d decided he’d made a mistake. That he wanted Claire after all. That they hadn’t even been broken up and I was the other woman in all of this. A million worst-case scenarios ran through my head, but the only way to know was to talk to him.
“All right. I have to head to work anyway. Are you going to be okay?” I asked as I stood up.
She gave me a noncommittal half-shrug, half-wave. “I know what I have to do next. And that’s go to talk to fucking Court Kensington.”
“That sounds…pleasant in your state.”
She rose to her feet. “I have had a very bad weekend. My husband cheated on me, I flew back and forth across the Atlantic in the span of two days, and now, I get here and find out he jeopardized everything. Again. Yeah, I think he deserves a piece of my mind.”
“Go easy on him.”
“Oh no, everyone goes easy on Court. That is not my job. My job is to whip his ass into shape and craft him into something the public can love—or at least, fucking sympathize with. Nothing in that says that I have to be nice. And nothing in that says that he should be in a position to almost get arrested again!”
“Okay, okay. Give the boy some tough love. I’ll be at work, trying not to die and waiting for the rug pull.”
“I love you,” English said. “Thanks for being here for me.”
“Always.”
“Good luck with Sam. Text me when you talk to him.”
“Will do.”
Even though I was really fucking dreading what was about to happen.
I made it to work only a handful of minutes late after my conversation with English. I’d desperately needed a shower to clear my head and nearly fallen asleep under the stream. Today was going to suck. No buts about it.
I yawned as I walked through the door, wishing I’d had time to stop at Coffee Grounds before coming in. But I was already late, I had a meeting with Shawn and the team leads, and I needed to see Sam before I could hope to get anything done.