Boss of Me

“Oh, right. I think you spoke at one of my classes. At Owen Business School?”

“I sure did!” Her voice gets friendly. “I’m also a reporter for Nashville Notes.”

“I’m not really familiar with—”

?

??It’s a local business publication. Did you say you’re out of town? I don’t want to bother you if you’re busy…”

I didn’t say I was out of town, and she kind of sounds like she does want to bother me. “I’m actually just heading back to Nashville. I have to get back to work.”

“At Fletcher International?”

“Yes…”

“Ms. Morgan, are you related to Renée Morgan?” The way she says it has my antenna up.

“She’s my sister.”

“Are you aware that Patton Fletcher paid your sister hush money a little over a year ago to keep her from going public with allegations of sexual assault at Fletcher International?”

I look at the closed door, frowning. “I was not aware of that. I’m pretty sure that’s completely false.”

“How sure would you say? Ninety percent sure? Eighty-five?”

This feels like she’s fishing. “I’d better go. I’m sorry.”

“Is it true you left because you were having sex with Patton Fletcher?” She speaks fast, clearly trying to get one more question in before I hang up.

Her question shocks me, and I quickly answer. “No. That’s not why I left.”

“So you did leave?”

“Ah, gotta go.” I hit end before she can say another word. Then I stand staring at my phone. “What the hell?”

Grabbing the doorknob, I whip open the bathroom door to see my sister sitting on my bed with my toiletries sorted on either side of her while she holds up the organic lotion she made for me.

“I sorted them for you. These over here are bad bad bad. These over here are not bad at all.” She looks up and smiles sweetly. “Good work, sis!”

“It was purely accidental, I assure you.”

“You’re still using the lotion I made for you.”

“I’m running low. Can you send me some more?”

“Sure!” She hops up like she’s going to do it right this minute, and I fly through everything Renée has said about Patton this week—as well as what I know about Renée.

My sister is not sneaky. I’m one hundred percent sure she wouldn’t say all the things she said about Patton if he gave her a bunch of money. Heck, I’m more sure she wouldn’t take hush money if she had decided to say something… which now I know wouldn’t have been anything, since Patton is a bastard, but he’s not the reason she walked away from her promising career.

Her words, blended with mine.

She collects the “bad” tubes from the bed. “You know there are more than three hundred thousand plastic beads in a tube of facial scrub?”

“Renée. Listen to me a minute.” She discards a tube of my favorite exfoliant and blinks at me. “Did you take any money from Patton Fletcher last year?”

Her head jerks back, then her nose wrinkles. “Take money? I haven’t even spoken to Patton Fletcher in almost five years.”

Pressing my lips together, I quickly pull up the Internet on my phone, searching for Nashville Notes. I don’t have to dig. The second the site loads on my phone, I see the headline and teaser text at the top of the scroll.