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“Sorry if I’m not a sex god like you.”
“When I first started out, I could barely last more than five minutes. Stamina is something you build.”
“Okay, okay. You sure know how to take the fun out of things.”
Ben shook his head. It was like talking to a petulant little boy.
Turning around, Jason leaned his back against the railing. “So did you find a good prospect from Jake?”
“I’m setting up a meeting next week with Tyrell Jenkins out of UCLA. While I’m down there, I’m going to round up some donations for Uncle Gordon. Want to come with?”
Jason made a face. “I’m not interested in political stuff. Bad enough my dad wants me to pass out flyers and shit.”
“If Uncle Gordon gets elected, we have a good shot at getting that waterfront land deal.”
“Yeah, yeah, but it’s not like we don’t have enough to do. If I have to work in the family business, I’d rather do that hotel in Thailand you’re working on.”
“Maybe I can work something out.”
“Thanks. Your dad will probably overrule it, though. He thinks I’m a total flake.”
“You are. Because you’ve got potential and would rather sit on your arse. But if you’re interested, I’ll talk to my dad.”
“Sure.”
They said nothing for a few minutes, and Ben realized that Kimani was still in the bathroom. He went to see if she was still on her call.
“Really?” he heard her say through the bathroom door. “Mayor of Oakland? The family is into everything... Sure, let me know what else you find. ... You really think this could be big? ... Okay, talk to you tomorrow.”
Why was she interested in Uncle Gordon, Ben wondered? And what did she mean by “this could be big?”
The bathroom door opened, and she looked startled to see him. She handed him his cellphone.
“Thanks for letting me use it again.”
“Is Sam satisfied that you’re okay?”
“Yeah, but she wants a call again tomorrow. Do you mind if I put a shirt on? The AC is blasting in here.”
He nodded, then went upstairs to his room to make a phone call of his own.
“With the cell number you gave me, our contact in Singapore turned up a Samuel Green,” Stephens reported. “He’s the editor-in-chief of the San Francisco Tribune. Before that, he was at the Pacific Institute for Investigative Reporting. Currently lives in San Francisco, Haight-Ashbury. Has a husband, Kyle Santos, and two kids.”
Ben was quiet as he let the information sink in. So, Sam wasn’t a woman, and if he was gay and married, then he wasn’t likely to be Kimani’s boyfriend or lover. What was he then? Her boss?
“I want you to look up a woman, age twenty-five. African-American,” Ben said. “Graduate of Stanford with a BA in Communications. Works for a financial firm and lives in San Francisco.”
“You got a name?”
“I’ve got a first name: Kimani.”
Read on for:
Excerpt
His For A Week: Ravaged
CHAPTER ONE
