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“Starting to look that way.” Pete was right about being spoiled, but he had the wrong culprit.
“And your response to losing your long-term mistress isn’t to pick another, it’s to become a monk.”
Will sipped his coffee. Black, the way he felt. Bitter, the way he liked it. “Who won?”
“Rockets. Wang was off with an ankle injury. Fourth straight loss for the Sharks. Your sponsor dollars hard at work.” Pete circled a spoon in his froth but his attention wasn’t diverted. “I gather you’ve finished with this conversation.”
“Yep.”
Pete sighed. “So, the interview this morning, Aileen has updated the talking points. She wants you to stick to them. I want you to stick to them.”
Will wished they were in his office so he could sit behind his desk. His body felt like it’d been smashed; muscles he couldn’t identify hurt. Ordinarily the effects of being ridden hard would’ve made him feel lighter. But this felt like guilt made physical. Because they were in Pete’s office, he parked his tail against Pete’s desk, stretched his legs out in front and held in the groan.
“I need the interview cancelled.”
Pete did a watch check. He had the Breitling on. Will had lost count of how many great watches Pete owned. He had a Breitling in a drawer somewhere as well. A present from Jiao bought with his credit card in her name. After he’d made her return the Dewitt. No one needed a one hundred and fifty thousand dollar watch. He preferred his old Tag, the first decent watch he’d ever bought himself.
“Cancelled? The journalist is due here in an hour.”
“Yeah.”
“You want to change the time. I’m sure that’ll be fine.” Pete’s face said major pain, but it was only Monday, and he was only slightly pissed at this point.
“I said cancel, not reschedule.”
“Come on. We agreed we need to do this.”
“You do it.”
“Will—it has to be you. We agreed.” Pete’s voice bled exasperation.
He fought the idea of simply issuing the order. He didn’t owe Pete an explanation. He could do whatever he wanted. “We have to cancel.”
“No. We have a plan. It’s a good plan. What’s going on with you?”
He felt hollowed out, that’s what was going on. “I’ve already met the journalist. She’s not suitable.” He put the coffee down. It wasn’t helping. It was the colour of despair, the taste of betrayal.
“Whoa.” Pete clattered his cup on his saucer. “When did you meet her, and why isn’t she suitable?”
“I met her at the airport.”
“The airport? You picked her out amongst how many thousands, waltzed up and said, hey, I’m Will Parker. And with one look you could tell she wasn’t suitable.”
“No.”
“So, what then?”
“I arranged to have her detained.”
“You did what?”
“Jiao’s brother-in-law works in immigration. I arranged to have the woman pulled out of the passport check line and detained.”
“Oh my God! I can’t begin to speculate on how many laws you broke. How does this even help us?”
“I got myself detained with her.”
“Oh fuck me! So now she has a story about being detained by Chinese immigration with Will Parker.”
