“Listen, no judgement. An empty tank looks good on you, but I want more info. Because from the sound of it…things were wild,” he says. I’m not quite sure what he’s getting at; it’s like he knows something I don’t.
Before I can ask what he means, my name echoes from my boss’s office across the hall.
“Calloway!”
From the tone, I can tell he’s not happy. Not that Nigel Rowman is known for ever being happy with anything we do.
“Good luck in there,” Cal says, and I nod once and head in. I’m not intimidated by Nigel. He’s five years younger than me and hasn’t been in the industry as long as I have.
Still, as I walk in, he’s got that look. He’s sitting at his desk, staring down at it like he’s already having the worst day of the week, and it’s Monday.
“You wanted to see me?” I ask when he doesn’t look up. Nigel is notorious for arguing like a woman, expecting you to read his mind and endure the silent treatment and all that shit. I’m not in the mood. I have work to do.
“I do,” he says and I wait. “Do you want a chance to explain yourself, or should I just get right into yelling at you?”
“It would be helpful if you told me what the hell you’re talking about,” I say, and he looks up at me with tight lips.
“I’m talking about the photos doing laps all over the internet right now,” he snaps back. I just narrow my eyes.
“What photos?”
I can’t understand how there could be photos. Not unless she had a second camera I didn’t know about, though I kind of doubt it. She was only upset about the one, and I never saw a phone on her.
Nigel steps towards me, his expression more pointed. Meanwhile, mine is getting more annoyed. “There were paparazzi on your property last night, Zane,” he says. “In case you weren’t aware.”
“I’m aware,” I correct him. “I took care of it.”
He chortles without smiling. “Not well.”
“What do you mean?” I ask.
“Look for yourself,” he says. “There’s a whole fucking mess of photos flying all over the place of you and your little mistress.”
I glare at him, but pull my phone out. It doesn’t take long for me to find what he’s talking about. To see what he’s talking about.
Sure enough, every platform known to man is littered with photos from last night. None of them show anything too graphic. They mostly comprise a lot of angles of skin, some kissing, and one with my towel about to slip off. None of them show anything X-rated, and her face is pretty much hidden in all of them.
But they are from last night, and they are of me and Ashlyn. Not only that, they’re close-ups. Meaning she wasn’t the only photographer on my property.
Fuck.
“Alright well, that’s unfortunate, but I’ve seen worse,” I say as I shove my phone back in my pocket.
“It is unfortunate,” he staples. “A disaster for your brand. Unless…”
I roll my gaze over to his. “Unless?”
“Unless it isn’t.”
I sigh inwardly. I don’t know where this is going. But I know Nigel well enough to know I don’t like it.
“So, what’s the plan?” I ask.
“It only looks bad if we don’t use it to flip the situation around,” he half-explains.
“Flip it around?”
“Use it to our advantage.”
