Page 111 of Snapshot

Believe it or not, I’m trying to protect you. I think BuzzLit is crossing a line.

Please call me back, Lennox. I promise I’m trying to help.

Her frantic messages are enough to pique my curiosity. She has some gall, contacting me after the awful things she wrote about me. But it’s the part where she mentioned that she’s trying to protect me that has me concerned. What line has been crossed that even has a sniveling weasel like Kat all worked up?

Me

What is going on?

Kat

Can we please just talk…face to face? I’m still right outside your building.

Me

You’re most definitely not welcome in my home…but there’s a coffee shop called Brewley’s about two blocks south. I’ll meet you there in an hour.

Kat

Okay, I know Brewley’s. See you in an hour.

Me

Kat, I’m warning you, if you mess with my family again, I won’t save you. I’ll let my husband buy your company this time and burn your career to the ground. Clear?

Kat

Yes, I understand. I promise, no funny business.

She must think I’m an idiot to believe that. This time, I’m taking precautions with a witness to the conversation so I can call Kat out on any bullshit with the truth. I phone in reinforcements. The phone barely rings twice before Spencer answers with a sleepy, “Hello?”

“Sorry, did I wake you?” Of course, I did. It’s seven o’clock on a Saturday morning.

“No, no,” she assures me. “Not at all. I’ve been up.”

“Why are you lying?” I ask with a chuckle.

“It’s a knee-jerk response,” Spencer admits, succumbing to a big, vocal yawn. “Have you ever seen The Devil Wears Prada? Executive assistants aren’t allowed to sleep.”

“Are you suggesting I’m as scary as Meryl Streep in that movie?”

“No, I’m suggesting I’m newly loving my job and my boss who wildly overpays me. So, if you need something at the butt crack of dawn on a Saturday, here I am, reporting for duty.”

“Fair enough. I’m going to send a car to pick you up shortly. I need you to meet me at Brewley’s in about forty-five minutes for a meeting.”

“Roger that. Dress pants or yoga pants?” Judging by the ruckus I hear in the background, she’s already shuffling through her apartment, turning her shower on.

“Whatever you prefer. It should be brief.”

“Who are we meeting?” Spencer asks.

Kat’s face pops into the forefront of my mind, and I roll my eyes. “A snake.”

When we walk in, it’s easy to spot Kat and her red hair in the corner of Brewley’s at a small table. She’s already ordered two coffees. Her eyes pop in surprise when she sees me approach with Spencer, dressed in a neat business romper. I opted for a sleek, navy dress that went past my knees. My most professional, least revealing dress, just in case Kat would like to corner me and accuse me of being a Las Vegas hussy again.

“I didn’t realize you were bringing company,” Kat says, rising when she sees us approach.

I point to the lattes on the table. “Well, we’ll wait. I’m sure the kitchen has time to poison one more.”

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