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The black Lincoln Navigator with the tinted windows pulled up to me. I hopped into the back seat and before my back even hit the black leather of the seat, the behemoth car smoothly pulled away.
Bishop had a crooked grin on his face. “Tell me you had nothing to do with the fire engines? Oh shit, what the hell are you wearing?”
Distracted, I ran a hand through my hair. “Don’t even ask.”
Bishop passed my cell phone back to me. “Keep ditching your phone like that, and I’m gonna have to chip you.”
Tracking our phones was a safety measure that our security team employed. None of us liked it, but it had proved invaluable a few times.
I laid my head back against the butter-soft leather. “You can yell at me after I get a cup of coffee in me.”
“You’re cutting it close.” Bishop glanced at me in the rear-view mirror. “Your appointment with the head shrinker is in 20 minutes.”
My therapy session. Fuck. I closed my eyes. I forgot about that. We were in the middle of a 3-week break from the tour, and I always tried to see Maggie in person when I could. I briefly thought about canceling, but I knew she would bust my balls if I did.
I moaned with irritation. “Do I have time to make it home for a quick change of clothes?”
“Nope.”
I glanced out the window when the car came to a stop. Bishop double-parked in front of a donut shop. “Don’t get out of the damn car.”
I snorted. I wasn’t planning on going anywhere. “Pick up a donut for me. Lemon with lemon glaze.”
Bishop muttered something while shaking his head before he headed into the shop. I took the time to send a quick text to Trudy, our PR rep, to warn her to keep an eye on social media.
Her reply came back quickly.
Trudy:Really? What did you do? It’s not even 10 a.m. yet.
Me:I didn’t do anything.
Me:It may involve cross-dressing though.
Me:Lots of photos and videos.Trudy:Fine. I’ll check #ghostsightings and see how much damage you did.
Bishop had come back with my coffee and donut and we were on our way to Maggie’s office when I got Trudy’s next text.
Trudy:Awww. You look so cute. You could have brushed your hair, though.
I took a sip of my coffee and watched the three dots as I waited for more from her.
Trudy:My, weren’t you busy! At least 12 girls from that apartment building claimed to have fucked you last night.
Trudy:#GhostParker and #ghostsightings, and #ghostsmokeout LOL
Trudy:You’re trending, but everything looks fine. No biggie. Fans are eating it up. I’ll monitor it.
I quickly typed a reply into my phone.
Me:Thanks, Tru.
Running my fingers through my hair, I tried to tamp down my bedhead but gave up a few seconds later. I looked like a crazy person, but therapists were used to crazy, so no biggie, as Trudy put it.
I couldn’t help but add another text.
Me:And for the record, I only fucked 4 girls last night.
A few minutes later, we were pulling up to the nondescript building that housed Maggie’s office. There were no signs announcing her practice; she had plenty of high-profile clients, so she was discreet.
