Page 86 of Nothing Special X: The Last Stand

“You are always thinking about optics,” Jesse snapped. “That’s the problem. You think like a goddamn robot. You don’t think what you just said was insensitive and hurtful as fuck.”

“I was hired because I’m good at my job. I know what the people want,” Carla argued.

Jesse picked up her dry martini, then set it down with a hard clink.

“If you think the people,” Jesse said with air quotes, “are looking for some sculpted David model, then you’re more than welcome to go find one and work for him. Otherwise, keep your body-shaming bullshit to yourself.”

Carla gaped, blinking as if she really didn’t think what she’d said was wrong. “That is not what I was doing.”

“Yes, you were, and you did it in a public restaurant. With everything Xander’s been through, you’re bitching about what he’s eating.” Jesse put her hand up. “Actually, never mind. You’re fired. Get up from my meeting and away from my client. Now.”

Carla choked. “Wh-what? You can’t fire me. I work for Xander, not you.”

Jesse stood and the entire table seemed to shrink around her.

“No, bitch. You work for me. I manage Xander’s entire team, and that includes you.” Jesse’s voice rose the more she went on. “I decide what’s in his best interest…and it damn sure isn’t you.”

“Holy shit,” Ruxs whispered. “This woman is in beast mode right now.”

“Yeah,” Green said, “And she’s attracting attention.”

Jesse pointed toward the front door. “Get the fuck out, or I can have HOS escort you out.”

Cassidy wouldn’t throw her out, he didn’t have that authority, but he assumed Carla wouldn’t test it.

He’d always thought Jesse Ross was good at her job, but now he had a new-found respect for her.

Carla gathered her papers with stiff, furious movements, shoving them into a red leather tote, before she stood.

Diners pretended not to watch as she marched toward the front doors, chin high, heels clacking, humiliation rolling off her in waves.

Outside, she stopped in front of the paparazzi and snarled something into the cameras before storming down the sidewalk.

“I didn’t like how that looked,” Green said.

“Free,” Tech murmured. “Tag Carla Kline, Xander’s publicist. Well, former publicist, and put her on a passive monitor. Socials, press contact spikes, the works.”

“On it,” Free responded.

Jesse sat back down and tapped one manicured fingernail near his plate. “Eat.”

A small smile tugged at Xander’s mouth as he picked up a couple of fries and dipped them into the ketchup.

Cassidy turned away before Xander could catch him watching.

“Maribel,” Jesse said, settling back in her seat. “I’m relying on you to get ahead of this. I want the focus moved off the threats and onto studio cooperation, his upgraded private protection, and most of all his commitment to finish filming.”

The meeting found its rhythm after that, and no one else dared to say anything out of pocket, or thoughtless.

Forty minutes later, Tech cut in through comms.

“I’ve got a suspicious stationary two o’clock from Starlight.”

Cassidy’s heart leapt to his throat, but he stayed planted.

Tech’s voice was as calm as if he was discussing the weather.

“Male, late twenties, tan beanie, gray shirt, phone in hand.”