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Twenty-Two
Savannah
My feelings weren’t hurt.
They weren’t.
They—
Christ.
They so were.
Even after I unpacked and got myself settled in my makeshift office, and I’d proofread the four exposés I had written and planned to release over the following weeks, I was still butt hurt. Which was saying something because what these four bastards had done was a crime against humanity, so Aidan should have been tucked away at the back of my mind, not at the forefront.
I didn’t deal well with being butt hurt, so I decided to act on it instead and bought him an impromptu Christmas gift that was a silent ‘fuck you’ and had it shipped express.
Because I didn’t want to be dealing with my work over the holiday period, I also scheduled my blog posts to automatically go live over the next four days, settling on six AM, just in time for breakfast news.
Mostly that was a snub against TVGM who emailed me three times as I worked, among other networks and papers who’d somehow gotten a hold of my personal email address.
Deciding that the next time I saw Conor I was going to ask him if there was a way to block the people who’d emailed me thus far, somehow bypassing the spam filter, I finally remembered that I had to reschedule things with Jen.
Calling her because I didn’t understand the only messaging app on my phone, and I figured it was new to Jen too, I called her when I knew she was on her lunch break.
Crawford, Lewis and Jones was where we’d first met. She was my accountant’s assistant, and she’d complimented me on my shoes whenever I went in for a meeting. A mutual adoration for Louboutin had her triggering a friendship with me.
As someone who was naturally cautious around people because they tended to want to befriend me to get close to my dad, there was something deliciously artless about Jen. I wasn’t sure how she’d started working for the staid corporate firm, to be honest.
Knowing her, I wouldn’t be surprised if she’d sucked off her boss during the interview or something. There was a reason she’d said very little about the TVGM fallout, and I had to think that was how she’d gotten her job otherwise she’d have been all over the gossip like gonorrhea.
"Girl, please don’t be calling to cancel."
It was mean, but I laughed at her panic. "No, I’m not canceling."
"Thank God. I wanted to ask you something but I didn’t dare call—"
I arched a brow. "That’s not like you."
She huffed. "I’m scared, can’t you tell?"
"You don’t have to be scared. It’s only money. I’ll lend it to you if need be," I told her calmly.
"You told me that before but I don’t think it’s right to take money from friends."
I rolled my eyes at her obstinacy. "Okay, okay, we’ll see what happens but know the offer is there."
"I really appreciate it, Savannah. You’ve no idea."
My lips curved because I knew she meant it. She was a cat, but when it boiled down to it, a kindhearted and loyal one. "What did you want to ask me?"
"The jerk says he can’t meet me at eight."
"Oh, that’s perfect! I need to reschedule."
"Really? Jeez, fate is working on my side." She muttered under her breath, "Let’s hope it stays that way. Will six be okay?"
"Yeah, that’s fine," I agreed. "I’ll see you then."
