With her hair askew and her lips swollen, Ryan rocketed back in her chair. “Oh, honey, what’s wrong?”
I was still kneeling, dizzy and half crazed, when my assistant somehow got her bearings and hurried around the desk to scoop Stacey into a hug.
“That’s okay. That’s a girl. Just let it all out. Men are pigs, aren’t they? Yes, they are.”
I cleared my throat, but no one seemed to notice me and the unattended club between my legs.
On second thought, that was a good thing when it came to Stacey. I didn’t need a lawsuit on my hands.
“I’m sorry I interrupted.” Stacey pinned me with a slightly accusing stare out of streaming eyes. “But it was just like my husband. He was screwing his secretary. Oldest cliché in the book, right?”
“She’s not my secretary.” I cleared my throat. “We aren’t…having intercourse.”
“Oh, sure, right.”
Had I ever heard a less sincere agreement? I had to say no.
Ryan didn’t seem to mind Stacey was calling our character into doubt. No, she was too busy steering her to the small sofa in the client waiting area. “Clichés exist for a reason. They happen all the time. As awful as it is, you aren’t alone, Mrs.—”
“Franklin. Well, soon to be Platt. I’m divorcing that dirty cheat. Do you know he gave her my brownies? I teach elementary school, and I stayed up after grading papers to make them for his lunch. I hope she enjoyed them, the hussy.” She dashed at her tears while I tried to read the sudden slew of messages flashing on Ryan’s phone screen.
Lu: OMG, he’s kissing you. Or…licking you?
Lu: Fuck, that’s hot.
Lu: He’s hot.
And then something about a big dick, which could either be about me or the yoga teacher, but no matter how I stabbed the phone, I did not have Ryan’s face. Also, my dick was not visible in that picture.
Was it?
“How low did you aim that selfie?” I demanded.
Both Stacey and Ryan glared at me.
“Never mind.”
“He didn’t deserve your brownies,” Ryan said soothingly, rubbing Stacey’s back while she sobbed.
I set down Ryan’s phone and decided I’d assume I was the well-endowed one Luna was referencing. Ryan’s commentary had indicated such.
The extent of their conversation I probably didn’t want to know.
My own phone vibrated in my pocket. I dug it out and saw an unknown number with an interesting text.
Unknown: What happened to no cookies in the office?
I frowned.
PMS: Excuse me?
Unknown: Don’t play dum. Are you conning her? She has a legion of spirit sisters behind her.
I looked up just as Stacey burst into a round of fresh sobs while Ryan poured water into a paper cup. “He told me he was taking me to Bimini for our anniversary. I found the tickets. Then I realized he was planning to take her.”
I needed to usher Stacey into the conference room if I had any hope of getting out of here anytime soon. And I had to, due to my followup appointment from yesterday’s impulsive move. Whatever happened, it had to make more sense than the chaos my life had recently become.
Forget sex hex. A life hex might be more accurate.