Like (Social Media 2)

At least until they have the new wedding to gossip about.

“Here you go, Grace,” Flora says as she hands me a thick paper file. “This is the hard copy of receipts and stuff that Linda sent. She said to tell you good luck. Apparently Mrs. Blazen is pretty difficult.”

“Oh, great.” I smile at her. “Hey, by any chance, do you know Mrs. Blazen’s first name?”

“Um…” Flora stops to think. “No, actually. I think she refers to herself that way.”

And then she’s gone and I’m alone in my office with my new assignment. I flip the folder open and find Mrs. Blazen’s number, key it into my phone, and then hit send.

“Hola,” a chirpy woman says on the other line. “Future Mrs. Blazen here.”

“Um, hi, Mrs. Blazen, this is Grace Kinsella from Big Guy Events. I’m your new—”

“Yes, Grace. We’ve met down at Little Lady Events. I’m thrilled to see you’ve been moved. I asked for you specifically a few months ago, but Leah refused to let you be my planner.”

“Oh, I had no idea. I just—”

“I have time to meet in an hour, can you come to my house in Park Hill?”

“Sure—”

“Great, see you then.”

And the call cuts off.

I just stare at my phone for a few seconds and then it rings in my hand. I press accept automatically without looking at the number. “Big Guy Events, Grace Kinsella speaking, can I help you?” Shit, I just answered my personal phone with my business greeting.

“Miss Kinsella, this Mr. Whitman at the bank.”

“Yeah?” Double shit, I bounced a check.

“I just wanted to personally let you know that your savings account conversion has been completed, and I wanted to check to make sure you didn’t need anything else before I leave for the day. My mother is not well and I’d like to—”

“Wait, what’s going on?”

“Oh, my mother, she’s a diabetic and she’s got a toe infection, so I have to go take her—”

“No, I mean…” I roll my eyes. “I’m sorry to hear that, so yes, of course you should go—”

“Great. Your new interest rate on your savings has been doubled.” He stops to chuckle. “After all, with a deposit like that, we offer special perks to our best customers.”

“Perks?”

“You have concierge service now. I’m your personal attendant and I will attend to everything you need, Miss Kinsella, but tomorrow, if that’s OK?”

“Yeah, sure, but—”

“Great, call me at this number whenever you need anything. Just not—”

“Today, yeah, I get it.”

“Thank you,” he sings back at me. And then I get the disconnect beeps again.

Jesus. Can life get any stranger? These flowers are not mine, this bank concierge is not mine, and this celebrity wedding is not… well, yeah, that one is mine. I smirk at that, but still. Weird.

Well, since Mr. What’s-his-face can’t be bothered today, I will sort that bank stuff out tomorrow. And I still have forty minutes before I need to leave to meet Ms. Blazen, so first thing first.

How much coffee money do I have left?

I press my Starbucks app on my phone and walk over to the flowers as I wait for it to load. There’s a card, and I’m just pulling it out of the little pink envelope when my balance comes up.

I stare at it.

Then at the card in my hand.

You are cared for.

Then my balance. Four thousand, nine hundred and ninety-seven dollars, sixty-three cents.

What? How? I look back at the flowers and see Asher’s little V initial. What the f**k? Who the hell puts five thousand dollars on a Starbucks account?

And that stuff with the bank?

I pull up my banking app on my phone and log in. It takes a few seconds, which is not good, because the time between that and when it loads only gives my heart time to beat faster, so that when I actually see the balance in my savings, I have to grab a hold of the table to keep from falling over.

I have thirty thousand dollars in my savings account.

Chapter Five

TheGiftThatKeepsOnGiving

MY mind wanders all day. Grace, Grace, Grace. That’s all I think about as I listen to my agent go on about upcoming projects, promotions, and charity functions.

I nod for everything.

“Yes, sure, Larry,” I tell him when he asks if I’ll attend the IM2 premiere.

“You will?” he asks, surprised. He’s holding his phone, glancing down at it every few seconds even as he talks to me. “I mean, you’ve been making such a big deal about it these last few years.”

“Hell the f**k no! I’m messing with you. I can’t stand the paparazzi and the fanfare. I’m sick of it. I’ve lived in the public eye for twenty-seven years, and that’s not including the first five years where the public eye was only Adam. It’s tiring. I’m at the point where this really is a job, ya know? I’d like to go home at the end of the day and just… be with people in a normal way.”

Larry looks at me suspiciously, one brow hitched up on his forehead, one eye squinting. “You’re seeing someone?”

“What? No, hell no. I’m not seeing anyone.”

“You have a girl at your place, don’t you? I’m coming over tonight to check. Are you shacking up?”

“No, Larry. Look, all I mean is that I need space. I need… time off maybe.”