Page 22 of Hooking
Buzz.
Buzz.
Buzz.
For Christ sakes. I carefully unravel myself from Cassidy’s cocoon and snatch my phone from the nightstand. Making my way to the living room, I carefully tap in the passcode to see more than a dozen messages, the bulk from Talya, head of Skipjacks PR.
I open her messages, finding several links to news stories from gossip rags about me. I’m about to open the first link when my phone buzzes again. This time, it’s a message from the last person I wanted to hear from.
Natasha: We need to talk.
Like fuck we do. Natasha is a puck bunny I used to mess around with, but I haven’t seen or talked to her for six months now.
I’m ready to fire off a message to her when a call from Talya appears on my phone.
“Finally, you picked up your phone,” she says, as soon as I swipe to answer.
“Well, good morning to you too,” I grumble as I walk out to the patio. “Why all the messages?”
She sighs loudly through the phone as if she couldn’t be more annoyed by me. “You seriously didn’t look at the links I sent you? This is a problem, Channing. A huge one, and the fact that you haven’t a clue why is even worse.”
“Well, you wanna fill me in then?”
“You’re unbelievable, Halloway, and to think you were my favorite,” she huffs before getting to the reason she called. “Every news article I sent you hasn’t gone to publication yet, but a friend of a friend sent me the prints, and they all focus on you getting some puck bunny pregnant—”
“Bullshit,” I say, cutting her off. “I never touched anyone without suiting up.”
“TMI, Channing. Regardless, she’s claiming you did.”
“Yeah, well, it’s a complete total bullshit lie.” I feel my anger building. “What do you want me to do? Christ sake, Talya. It’s not true.”
“Look, I can try to get them to hold off on posting that story until we know more, but it’s going to cost you a pretty penny,” she says, through a sigh of exhaustion.
Just when I thought I could finally let my guard down. Be the guy I want to truly be and with the woman who’s been driving me mad for years. This shit comes out of nowhere and fucks everything ten times till Sunday.
“Look, we can hold them off for a few weeks. Pay the fees they’re asking while we wait to get a paternity test done,” Talya says, like this will solve all my problems. “When do you come back?”
“Today.”
“Okay. Good. That works,” she says, as if she’s thinking of the next t steps. “I’ll have the team lawyers get in contact with this so-called baby mama and have them set up the test for when you arrive this afternoon.”
Talya goes over her game plan with me for a few more moments, while all I can do is think about what the fuck just happened. How did this happen and when? What’s going to happen to the beautiful woman sprawled out in bed of this gorgeous villa?
I don’t hear a thing Talya says before she disconnects the call. Immediately, I’m pulling up the text thread from Natasha. I know she had to be the source of this fake bullshit.
Channing: You’re damn right we need to talk. What game do you think you’re playing here?
Natasha: Seriously, Channing. That’s rich coming from you. The king of games.
King of games. Sure, I had my fair share of dicking around, but everyone’s known the score. Even Natasha. There was only one girl worthy of ditching the rules I put into place. Yet it could all blow up in my face if what Natasha is claiming is true.
Natasha: Please just meet with me. Café DuPont. 7pm.
Our flight arrives at six, so that gives me enough time to meet Natasha and hear what she has to say. But I made Cassidy a promise that I would leave with her.
This is just one giant cluster fuck. It’s also a reason I avoid relationships… Well, one of the reasons I avoid relationships.
Channing: 7pm sharp. Not a minute later.
