Page 77 of The Sun and Her Star

My blood runs cold. But she’s not done. She crosses her arms over her chest.

“Since you’re in the mood to play blackmail. Let’s see how your production company feels about the fact that you were selling your ass to pay for the lifestyle you flaunted on Instagram. How many sponsors will want to buy advertising on a show where the host is a whore?”

Her jab hits home. My chest aches because I can’t refute that.

She laughs cruelly. “Didn’t think of that, did you? Well, don’t forget it. I go down, you go down. I’m not losing my income. I’ll expect you to make me the same amount of money every month.”

My mouth grows dry.

“I’m done, Nanette.”

“So you said. I’ll miss the delicious body. And so will your clients. You’ve got a great cock, Graham. But I can find another.” She smiles coldly. “Just make sure you pay me what I paid you every month and you’ll be fine. You live your life, and I’ll live mine.”

“You’re the fucking devil,” I snarl at her.

“That’s right, Graham. And you’re stuck in hell with me.” She laughs, winks, and then turns around and jogs back up to her house.

I turn around and keep walking. She thinks she’s won. Let her. What Nanette paid me every month isn’t a lot of money to me now. And if it just means that I can have my life back, it’s the best value for money I’ve gotten in my life.

I get into my Uber and pull my phone out. I scroll through and dial a number I haven’t dialed in three years. I hold my breath and hope that she’ll answer this time.

“Hello?” The singsong voice on the other end of the phone makes me smile.

“Tante Isabel?” I ask quietly.

“This isn’t … Graham?Is it?” she asks, and I relax at the smile I hear in her voice.

“Wow. I didn’t expect to hear your voice again,” she says coolly.

“Yeah, we lost touch,” I say vaguely.

“Ah, is that what you call stomping all over a young girl’s heart?” she asks sweetly, almost absentmindedly.

I feel that like a kick to my gut.

But I can’t argue differently. I know I fucked up.

“I’m sorry. It was a difficult time.”

“Mm-hmm,” she says. “So, what can I do for you?”

“Uh, yes. I wondered … The number I had for her has been going to voice mail—”

“Well, I can help you with that,” she says brightly. “That girl’s so hard to pin down. She’s living in New York now, but she’s always off somewhere buying art,” she laughs fondly.

Apollo’s in New York.

She’s doing what she said she would.

That’s my girl.

“I can give you her number. To her apartment, anyway. That cell phone of hers is always dropping calls. I never call it anymore. Hold on.”

I pump my fist. I thought I was going to have to beg for Apollo’s information.

“I’m trying to find the paper with her number. One second. You should go look at her Instagram. She posts all of her fun pictures on there. Are you on there?” she asks and I can hear the rustling of paper.

“Yeah, I am,” I say, even though I hardly use it all anymore. Dean has put someone in charge of all my social media posting.

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