I back away slowly. “I totally get that you’re upset, but putting a hit out on Memphis and Gwen is so not the right way to deal with this.”
Her jaw drops. “Wait…what? What are you talking about?”
I blink, thoroughly confused. “You’re not planning on having Memphis and Gwen murdered?”
Shock has her rearing back. “Yeah…no.” Her eyes close. “Shit. That means you don’t know.”
You’d think finding out my friend didn’t hire a hit man would squash all my anxiety, but nope.
“Know what?”
Frowning, she walks over to my bed and sits.
Then she takes her laptop out of her bag. “I’m really sorry, Lennon, but there’s something you need to see.”
My anxiety turns to full-blown panic as I take a seat next to her…
And then absolute horror when I peer at her screen because there are pictures—intimate pictures—of me and Phoenix.
In the first photo, Phoenix has me up against a wall and he’s kissing my neck.
That wouldn’t be so bad, but in the second photo, his hand is inside my shorts and the expression on my face makes it clear that I’m really enjoying myself.
Then there’s the final photo, which is a close-up. Phoenix’s eyes are hooded, and his face is strained in pleasure like he’s about to come…while I straddle him on the couch.
The only advantages to this one are that I have a T-shirt on, it’s cropped so you can’t see the lower halves of our bodies, and my face isn’t in it. Not that it matters. Anyone can tell it’s the same girl from the other two photos.
“I’m trying to get them taken down,” Skylar whispers.
Humiliation courses through me as I flick through the online magazines and blogs with glaring headlines like:
‘Who is Phoenix Walker’s curvy new girl?’
‘Phoenix Walker gets hot and heavy with a full-figured beauty.’
‘Check out Phoenix Walker’s plus-sized love interest.’
There isn’t a single caption that doesn’t reference something about my weight.
And when I make the mistake of scrolling down to read the comments…it’s even worse.
–I knew he was on drugs, but I didn’t think he was that strung out.
–Dayum. Phoenix likes ’em big.
–Phoenix can have any woman he wants. Why would he screw that chubster?
–It’s those thunder thighs for me.
–He should take a cue from Memphis and bang hotties like Gwen.
–Someone call the cops. He’s been crushed to death.
–He’s definitely punching above his weight class.
Technically, that last one is a compliment, but I don’t think they intended for it to be.
“Okay, enough.” Skylar steals her laptop back. “People are jealous dickheads. Ignore them. You’re beautiful.”
As much as all those comments sting, I can’t throw myself a pity party quite yet because I have far more important things to worry about.
“Those pics are from the other night…while we were on the bus.”
Which means someone very close to us took those pictures and then gave them to the fucking tabloids.
Skylar blows out a heavy breath. “Yeah, I thought it looked familiar.”
My voice cracks. She was right before, this is beyond fucked up. “Who would do this?”
Who would betray not just mine, but Phoenix’s trust?
These aren’t just his people…they’re his family.
Her face scrunches. “Well, it’s definitely not me, Storm, or Memphis. We would never do that to him or you. Quinn can be cunning, but Phoenix is her hero, and she adores you, so I doubt it’s her. Chandler obviously wouldn’t.” Her eyes narrow. “My money’s on George.”
Yeah, she’s probably right, but I can’t focus on that because she just reminded me of something even more alarming.
Nausea barrels into me and I lurch up. “Chandler.” If this is all over the internet, it’s only a matter of time before he finds out. “He’s gonna freak.”
The expression on Skylar’s face tells me she’s just as anxious as I am about this. “I know. I’m trying my hardest to have them taken down before he sees.” Standing up, she grips my shoulders. “Breathe. Seeing as he hasn’t barged in here screaming his head off, I’d say you’re sa—”
The sound of my phone ringing cuts her off.
My stomach twists itself into even more knots when I see Chandler’s name flash across my screen.
“He might not know yet,” Skylar says as I reach for it. “Play it cool.”
I answer on the third ring. “Hey. Good morn—”
“My room. Now.”
Then the line goes dead.
“Shit,” Skylar murmurs.
Then she smooths my hair. “Okay. Here’s what you’re gonna do. You’re going to walk in there with your head held high, and then when he starts screaming, you’re gonna muster up some tears. Chandler can be a jerk, but blubbering women make him skittish. Use that to your advantage.”
I’m thankful she has a game plan because I don’t. “Okay.”
“Good luck.”
Gripping my hand, we walk out of my room together.
“You got this,” she assures me before we separate and she heads down the hall to her room.
I go to knock on Chandler’s door, but it opens before I have the chance.
“Get in here.”
The knot in my stomach constricts to the point of pain as he stomps over to the kitchen area of his suite.
He stops in front of a small table and spins his laptop around…on his screen are the photos of me and Phoenix.
“Go pack your things,” he says, his tone unusually calm.
The fact he’s not screaming or raging anymore is unnerving.
I open my mouth, ready to rattle off an excuse…but there isn’t one.
Disappointment and shame sit heavy on my chest. “I’m sorry.”
Chandler is a grade-A asshole, but out of all the rules he gave me, he made it abundantly clear that one in particular was the most important.
And I broke it.
So even though I can stand here, produce some tears, and try to justify what I did…I won’t.
Because that would make me no better than him.
Humiliation courses through me as I turn on my heel and head for the door.
However, my steps come to a halt with my next thought.
I messed up, there’s no disputing that. But I did keep Phoenix out of trouble like he wanted. Hell, he’s not even drinking anymore.
Not that I can take credit for that—that’s all him.
But still, I fulfilled the key component of my job description.
While I deserve to get fired for my mistake, I should be entitled to some compensation.
Especially since I not only gave up my job, but Mrs. Palma has been covering all the expenses for me back home these past two months.
I don’t just owe the woman my lifelong gratitude and appreciation; I owe her money.
I spin around to face him. “Will I still be paid?”
Chandler looks up from his laptop. “How long have you been fucking him?”
Another wave of embarrassment courses over me.