Page 58 of Boss Abroad

I’m having a hard time keeping the phone steady in my hand while Callie sounds so entertained telling this story she could use some popcorn.

“Callie, wrap this up. What did Pres do? What did he say?” My face must be so pale listening to all this that I got to be blending in with the white towels at this point.

“Bitch, Dr. Preston Jett said that if they brought you back, they could expect his resignation letter and that yours would follow.” She sing-songs the next sentence. “That neither of you would stand for that shit.”

I’m not one to get emotional, but my throat sure feels tight hearing that. I cough it out and blink London into focus again. I’m almost afraid to ask, but I just want to hear the end of it already. “And then what?”

“Then, my friend, it gets better. So much better now you’ve told me who you were with last night.”

Huh? “What does Liam have to do with this?”

“I don’t know, but I heard the secretary announcing on the speakerphone that Good Dick was on the line to speak with the board of directors. They might have said Liam Gunn. I’m not sure.” She fakes confusion and I can’t keep a straight face to save my life. Callie’s a great doctor, but Hollywood is missing out on her.

“But anyway, that’s when Jett exited the room looking murderous, found me snooping, and dragged me away by the arm. The man has been miserable lately, A. Insufferable. Something is off with him. I’ve asked him what, but he keeps dodging me.”

I lie back in bed, sinking into the mattress, wishing it could swallow me whole. “Oh, this is doing my head in. Is it too early to get drunk again?”

“And fuck Good Dick again too?” The woman is a stand up comedian and is giggling at her own joke.

“Callie!” I laugh, not hating the idea, but still discarding it. I need a plan and I don’t tend to do my best thinking with Liam around.

“Girl, listen. Your job is safe. Daddy Jett made sure of it. And my sixth sense tells me that call from Good Dick made it even safer.”

“Stop calling him Good Dick. It’s disturbing. His name is Liam.”

“You’re too visual, right? Do you picture his dick every time I say it? Good Dick. Good Dick.” She moans it the third time. “Goooood Diiiiiick.”

“Okay, I’m hanging up now.” I pretend to be mad, but she’s totally right and hilarious, too.

“Fine,” she huffs. “I’ll stop, I’ll stop.” It takes her a few tries to stop laughing, then out of nowhere, she punches me right in the heart.

“You know I’d quit too, right?” Oh, Callie. We share a moment of silence.

“Don’t get sappy on me now. No one’s quitting. Let me go and figure out what to do next, so I have a job to go back to. And babe?”

“What?”

“Same.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

liam

Everything is going according to plan. George and Mia did a great job orchestrating the conference ahead of the charity game. Even footballers that only met April for a day wanted to take part in it once they got wind of what was going on. Guess I’m not the only one falling victim to her charm.

I hear protests by the door. “What do you mean, I can’t come in?”

I recognize the voice of the reporter, or so he proclaims. An old, vicious man who always has a snarky comment to make, a button to push. His was the first name I put down on the club’s persona non grata list. I watch with profound satisfaction as my security catches and slices the lanyard along with the badge he no longer has the privilege to use.

“Are you mad, boy?” He wraps his hand around his neck as if the guard has carved through his wobbly skin. “Get your boss. Call the manager. Anyone above your paygrade!”

That’s my cue. “Is my paygrade high enough to cater to your ego, Baltimore?”

“Mr. Gunn.” He recoils at my sight, not feeling that brave anymore. “There must’ve been a mistake.” His bravado only returns when he addresses my employee. “This boy,” the wrinkled old man has the audacity to poke the bouncer on the chest, “ripped my badge and said I couldn’t come in. You don’t know shit.” Arrogance radiates off of him.

“Callum?” I play dumb, turning to my staff and tossing an arm around his shoulder. Poor Callum eyes me with a mix of surprise and suspicion. I flash him a smile as if I act like this on a regular basis. “Oh, he knows shit. He’s doing the precise shit I’ve asked him to do.” I smile brighter, faker. “Thank you, Callum. Good shit.” Then I face Baltimore with a very different expression.

“You’ve lost all your privileges at this stadium. You smear one of us, you shit on all of us. Did I make myself clearer using terms you understand?”