Rhiannon yawned loudly. “Good morning.”
“Is Samson joining us for breakfast?” She critically surveyed the amount of food she’d prepared and considered increasing it. Samson may not be a football player anymore, but he ate like one.
“Nah, he left to go back to L.A. He’ll be scarce while I’m gone, he has some work to do with his foundation.” Rhiannon pulled her sweatshirt together and zipped it up.
After so many years, Katrina was well versed in what Rhiannon’s clothes meant, though her ever-changing wardrobe of hoodies and jeans might look the same to anyone else. The blue hoodie was her power sweatshirt, but it was also one of her more loose ones. Her travel power sweatshirt. “Ready for your trip?”
“As ready as I’ll ever be.”
“I loved India when I was there.” She’d traveled quite a bit in her youth. It hadn’t always been enjoyable or anxiety-free, and she was in no hurry to hop on to a transatlantic flight anytime soon—or ever—but there had been a few trips she was glad she’d taken.
Rhiannon went to the cupboard where the plates were stored. Katrina was aware she was biased, but she thought Rhiannon Hunter was surely one of the most beautiful women in the world, with her high cheekbones, glowing dark-brown skin, and big black eyes. She’d cut her hair recently, and the curls brushed her shoulders and framed her heart-shaped face perfectly. “I’m kinda nervous.”
That was a big admission for Rhiannon, who prided herself on being tough. “There’s no need to be nervous. We are prepared for this.”
Usually, Katrina didn’t concern herself with the day-to-day operations of the start-ups her fund invested in. Because of Rhiannon, she was more actively engaged with Crush, and had happily taken the lead on a lot of their tentative expansion into foreign markets. India had its own dating apps, but Crush’s arrival into the huge smartphone-armed population was an opportunity to expand their footprint significantly.
Rhiannon made a face. “I’ve been working on this Matchmaker merger so much, I feel like you know more about the expansion than I do.”
Katrina shook her head. “That’s because you’re used to being a hundred and forty percent prepared, so when you’re actually a hundred percent prepared, you feel underprepared.”
“How dare you utter the truth first thing in the morning.”
Katrina smiled and slid the last waffle out of the waffle iron. “There’s nothing about this company you don’t know. And honestly, I’m a phone call away.”
Rhiannon set three places at the table. “And thank God for that.”
Katrina smiled. She was grateful, too, that she’d reached out to Rhiannon with an investment offer four years ago, when she heard her friend had left her previous employment.
Do you have any idea how much a start-up costs? Rhiannon had asked her.
Do you have any idea how much my husband left me? she’d countered.
Rhiannon had never asked for that number, but it had been a lot. Hardeep had been a jeweler for the stars, yes, and that had brought in a tidy sum, but he’d also invested in a certain then-obscure search engine in the nineties.
Katrina had taken the multiple zeros she’d inherited and turned them into even more zeros.
“You’ll be gone for less than two weeks. Meet with the team we assembled, lay the groundwork, and we’ll be rolling in the rupees shortly.” Katrina slid her friend a sideways glance. “I’m surprised Samson’s not coming with you.” Rhiannon had only ever been a part-time roommate at best, but she’d been gone a lot over the last few months. Rhiannon had her own apartment in L.A., but Katrina suspected that her friend had been spending most of her nights with Samson.
“I asked him, but he’s got a fund-raiser he’s committed to, so it was a no-go.”
“Gotcha.” Inside, her inner romantic pumped her fist at Rhiannon’s admission. Awwwww. As far as she knew, this was the first trip Rhiannon had invited her boyfriend along on.
A loud yawn preceded Jia’s entrance into the room. The internet would be stunned to see Jia Ahmed in baggy cotton pajama pants and a sweater, her hair uncovered and in a simple braid, but the toned-down fashion and beauty influencer was still glamorous, the pep in her walk not diminished by the early hour.
She had put on makeup, though it was only a brush of eyeliner and a slight tint of lip gloss. In fact, Katrina didn’t think she’d ever seen Jia without some makeup in the five months since she’d come to live with them.
Katrina wasn’t quite sure how this living arrangement had come to be. Rhiannon had gone home back east for about twenty-four hours, and returned with the news that she’d invited a childhood friend’s baby sister to live with them.
Katrina had been mildly anxious about whether the semi-famous Pakistani American influencer would like her. That fear was put to rest about five minutes after meeting Jia. The younger woman was goofy and lacked a filter, but she made up for her chattiness in the pure earnest warmth and sweetness she exuded.
“I’m dying of hunger,” Jia announced.
Katrina’s lips quivered. Jia very much liked to announce things. “How do you feel about waffles?”
“Ooh yes, love them.”
“Can you grab the juice, Jia?” Rhiannon asked.
“Yes, ma’am.” The younger woman stuck her head in the fridge. “Orange, apple?”
“Both.”
Katrina took her seat at the small breakfast table in the sunny nook and neatly placed a napkin on her lap while the other women joined her. The much larger dining room was rarely used, except for holidays. The last few Christmases had been fun, with Rhiannon, select Crush employees, and her own staff.
What’s going to happen when Rhiannon leaves you?
She swatted away the anxious thought. Nothing. She would be fine. People came into her life, and they left, and Katrina had learned to enjoy the parts in the middle. That was really all a person could do. “How was your party last night, Jia?”
Jia was at the point in her career where she was getting invites to various product launches. As far as Katrina could tell, being an influencer meant a whole lot of visibility. Like modeling, but with more access.
Inwardly, Katrina shuddered. Jia could have that.
“I couldn’t enjoy it.” Jia tapped on her ever-present phone and showed Katrina the screen. “Would you look at this jerk?”
Katrina peered at the photo of Jia contemplatively staring out at the ocean. “Ah. It’s you, Jia.”
“I know it’s me! Look at the comment from the motivational model.”
“What’s a motivational model?” Rhiannon asked.
“You know. A model who captions all his pics with inspirational quotes? Like, from Gandhi or Mother Teresa or the Dalai Lama.”
Rhiannon pursed her lips. “Lovely. I’m sure Gandhi would be delighted he went on a hunger strike so his words could caption thirst traps.”
Katrina took the phone from Jia and read the comment out loud. “Wow, the west coast really agrees with you. Your skin has never looked better.” She handed the phone back to its owner. “I’m sorry. I don’t see what the problem is.”
“You’re reading it wrong.” Jia raised the pitch of her voice. “The west coast agrees with you. Your skin has never looked better.” She scowled.