“But—”
“I’ll give you a glowing recommendation.”
“I don’t want?—”
“And a hefty severance package.”
He clenched his jaw before forcing patience. “Tripp, you don’t mean this.”
“Aseverancepackage I’m now regretting offering since it reminded me of a certain hugely popular TV show. The one I missed a role on because you’re shit at your job.”
“You’re fucked up, man. Think this through when you’re sober.”
“Definitely regretting the generous offer. Let me consult with my legal counsel.” I looked at Easton. “Did that count as legally binding?”
“No acceptance, no handshake, no verbal contract,” Easton said, fighting to hide his amusement.
He barely finished his sentence before Alex clutched my hand and forced a shake. “Fine. I’ll take it. Not that it matters. You’re going to regret this.”
“What was that?” Cohen asked. I hadn’t even seen him approach, but he stood close as he gestured to the side.
Alex scowled and shook his head. “No, not like that. I mean… It’s… There’s a reason he can’t keep a damn assistant.”
He had a point.
I was a pain in the ass.
I also had bad taste in assistants.
Siren will be different.
Unless this is all a fucked-up dream, and I’m in a coma after falling off the roof.
Why else would the room be warping in and out of focus?
Security wasn’t fazed by the fact the bar resembled distorted funhouse mirrors. They navigated the twisty room in an instant, and Alex raised his hands. His expression was tight, but he was good at saying the right thing—the only reason he’d lasted so long. “I’ll be waiting for your call when you sober up.”
“And I’ll send over your shit from my house,” I said.
“With a copy of the NDA you signed in case you feel the need to refresh your memory,” Easton tossed in.
It’s good to be friends with my lawyer.
As Alex was escorted out, the room remained eerily quiet. I didn’t give a shit. I also didn’t give a shit that news of the drama was likely already being loaded onto every social media platform. Something else would inevitably overtake it by the morning, and it would fade into the wasteland of tabloid fodder.
I did care that Greer was staring at me like I was a heartless monster.
Fuck.
How am I getting this so wrong?
I lifted my water glass to the room. “The party goes on, and it calls for cake!”
Cheers erupted around me, but I lowered my voice so only those closest to me could hear. “There. Now I have an assistant opening.” I looked at the siren still eyeing me warily. “You’re hired.”
Her gaze darted to Maddie—who remained uncharacteristically silent—before returning to me. “I’m, uh, honored, but I have an interview already.”
“So cancel it.”
