Hollywood Playboy (Hollywood Royalty 1)

“Seriously,” Cassie says, raising her voice. Jessica’s head snaps up. “If you don’t have time for this, we will skip this interview.”

Jessica’s back goes up straight. “Stephanie, I have to call you back,” she says and listens to something she says. “Run the story.” She pulls the phone away from her ear.

“You’re twenty-five minutes late,” she says to Cassie and then looks at me, then back at Cassie. “It’s your job to make sure he gets here on time, and you didn’t, so if you want to throw a hissy fit, I can tell you right now it’s not going to go well. I sat in that chair and waited, never once annoyed that he was late, never once huffing and puffing. And then you come in here with this? Seriously bullshit,” she says, closing the distance between them, and now I see Cassie stand straight also. “Since day one, I have kept quiet about you and your lack of respect, but when you come in and try to jeopardize my job, that’s where I draw the line. Yolanda, Yamina!” she yells, and I look out into the hallway to see that some of the heads have turned to look this way.

Yolanda comes in with a smile on her face followed by Yamina, whose smile quickly fades when she sees we are all standing here, ready for battle. “This interview is over, but it never began,” she says, walking to her bag and throwing her phone into her purse. “He showed up twenty-five minutes late, which I was fine with, but then his assistant had an issue with me taking a work call while I waited for her to get her shit together and get her boss to where he was supposed to be.”

“Jessica,” I say. Her head flies to me, but when I see the anger in her eyes, I stop.

“Hopefully, this stunt gets me a one-way ticket home,” she says and then looks at Cassie. “But if you think that you scare me, you have another thing coming.” She turns and walks out of the room. Yamina looks at me and then at Cassie, who just rolls her eyes.

“I believe this,” Cassie starts to say, putting her hands out, “means she’s going home, right?”

“Um,” Yolanda says, and then looks at Yamina. “We will have to let Ryan know.”

“No,” I say loudly. Yamina and Yolanda both look at me. “If you can give us a minute,” I say, and they both nod and walk out, closing the door. I wait a couple of minutes and look at her. “What the fuck was that?”

She crosses her arms over her chest and rolls her eyes. “Seriously, you are not going to say that you weren’t annoyed with her.”

“Cassie, she didn’t do anything. She has been on her best behavior since we left. She hasn’t tried to fuck with me; she hasn’t tried to smear me or ask me anything that she shouldn’t have. We had a conversation this morning, calling a truce,” I tell her. I’m pissed as fuck she went over my head, and she was disrespectful. There is one thing I don’t do, and it’s disrespect.

“Well, how was I supposed to know?” she tells me. “You didn’t tell me anything.”

“It didn’t have anything to do with you or your job,” I tell her, putting my hands in my back pockets. “I took care of it.”

She doesn’t have a chance to answer because there is a knock on the door, and Yamina walks in. “Um, Tyler, Ryan is on the phone,” she says, holding out her phone. She looks at me, then Cassie, and then at the floor.

I grab the phone, placing it to my ear. “Hello?”

“You want to tell me why I just got a phone call from Stephanie pulling Jessica out of this tour?” he hisses. “The only reputable fucking journalist out there, and she is going.”

“There was a misunderstanding,” I say, turning and walking more into the room so no one hears the conversation. “I will go and talk to her.”

“You better do something,” Ryan says. “You know she’s been gone from LA for what, three days, maybe four, and she had two scoops that came out. Two. She beat all the other reporters by thirty minutes. Two.”

“I know,” I say, closing my eyes and grabbing the bridge of my nose.

“Take care of this,” he says, and he hangs up. I turn and hand Yamina back her phone.

“How many interviews do I have left?” I ask her, and she shakes her head.

“That was your last one,” she says, and I nod, walking out of the room. Then I turn back and go back in.

“I need her room number,” I ask them, and Yolanda tells me. I walk toward the elevator and press the button. I hate drama, I hate being involved with drama, and I hate being around it. I step into the elevator, and I’m pissed, I’m angry, and I’m livid. I’m all the fucking words. When the elevator doors open, I walk to her hotel door, and I hear her voice come through the door.