I say. “I stood by his side when he crashed not one but two cars and entered rehab. I stood by his side when he beat the shit out of his girlfriend, and I had two of his three sponsors pulling their contracts. This is strike three.” I shake my head. “I warned him the last time, and you were there. I will not be here to clean up his mess. That is what he pays you to do.”
“I’m sorry you feel that way,” he says. “I’ll tell Andrei when I see him.”
I disconnect the call and then call my brother Trevor, knowing that Francis is probably still sleeping. “How is it that you have drama at eight o’clock on a Saturday morning?”
“I’m dropping Andrei as a client,” I say, and he listens as I fill him in. “I’ll call Amanda now so she can issue a press release.” I mention our public relations director.
“Yeah, I would do the same,” he says. “You tried and stuck by him when no one else did.”
“I’m going to wish him well and move on,” I say. “Now I have to go eat my breakfast and try not to dwell on it.” I tie my wet hair on top of my head again. “I’ll send you a copy of the letter once I’m finished with it.”
My morning flies by as well as the afternoon, dealing with the aftermath of Andrei. His arrest is front and center at noon, the same time we release our statement. I rub my hands over my face and look down to see that I’m still in my robe and my breakfast is still sitting there but cold. I throw it out and grab one of the pre-made foods I have delivered. I pop it in the microwave to heat it faster and eat standing up this time, not bothering to move from the kitchen when my phone pings. I groan when I see it’s a reminder for tonight.
Candace’s birthday party
Putting my head back, I can sense a headache coming on. I finish my food and make my way to my bedroom. My bed calls my name, and I finally listen to it and crawl into my bed naked. It takes me no time to fall asleep, and when the alarm rings two hours later, I almost send Ralph a message that I’m going to bail, but I know I have to make an appearance.
Dragging my ass out of bed, I head into my walk-in closet to get dressed. It’s the size of a bedroom with clothes on all four walls sorted by color and then by designer. I pick out tight black pants that fit me like a glove and a black lace halter top with a tight black jacket cut down in the front to show the lace under it. I set the clothes down on the bed and go into the bathroom and curl my hair. I have my hair and makeup done in thirty minutes, and I get a text telling me the car will be here in ten minutes.
I slip on my clothes and then walk over to my shoes, grabbing a pair of gold Louboutins. My feet scream at me for putting them through this torture. “It hurts to be beautiful.” Grabbing my black Hermes purse, I walk out of the penthouse and make my way down to the waiting car.
The driver opens the door as soon as he sees me. I usually drive, but I figured that I could have a couple of drinks. “Thank you,” I say, getting into the car. I spend the drive over scrolling through Instagram and see a couple of pictures from my clients that I like.
When we pull up to the restaurant, I put the phone back in my purse, and the driver comes over and opens the door. “I’ll be waiting right here when you are ready.”
“Thank you,” I say and walk into the restaurant. The whole place is shut down just for us. People are lingering everywhere, and I look around, spotting Candace and Ralph talking to Miller and Layla. I make my way over and see balloons scattered around the room. “Happy Birthday,” I say when I get close enough to them. Candace looks up and smiles at me. She is a sought-after social media specialist. I met Ralph three years ago when he first got traded to Dallas, and he had no agent. I signed him after meeting with him for five minutes.