Page 19 of Over & Out

Cindi gives the gong a hug. “I’m gonna call him James Gong.”

I roll my eyes but can’t help crack a smile, which I hide by covering my face with a pillow.

“Hopper,” Tru says. “You need to get up now. Everyone’s waiting for you.”

The primary bedroom in this house is off the kitchen. Which is deeply annoying, because it means it’s easier for my team members to do shit like this. “Who’s here?”

“Adrian, Mabel, Aziz,” Tru says. “And Chris.”

I groan. Everyone’s here. In person. Adrian Liu, a shark perpetually dressed in Gucci but somehow the most affable dude I know, is my agent. Mabel Johnson, who was a good friend of my mom’s, is my manager. Both of them live in LA. Aziz is my trainer, but he’s local. Why are they here? Then I register Tru said another name.

“Who the hell is Chris?”

“Put some pants on and come find out,” Tru says.

I say nothing, making no promises.

“You might like to know,” Cindi says, “That James Gong is on wheels. I’m going to bring it outside your door and bang it every sixty seconds until you come out.”

I throw the pillow down. There’s no arguing with either of them when they want something.

Five minutes later, I’ve pulled on a pair of gray sweats and staggered out into the kitchen, not bothering to look at the three people standing around the island until I’ve gotten some coffee. I head for the machine, my backto them, but Cindi appears beside me with an already filled mug.

“Thanks,” I grumble. I lean a hand on the counter, looking out the window. The view is almost pretty enough to cut through my headache.

“So,” Tru says. “We’re all here is because it’s Chris’s first day.”

I sip my coffee. The hot black drink hits my bloodstream but doesn’t do much to perk me up. I’m in a foul fucking mood. It’s this town. Despite the thick slope of trees and sweep of ocean in front of me, being here brings me right back to a very bad time I’ve spent three months trying hard to forget. “Oh yeah?” I ask. “Who’s Chris?” I’m being rude as hell, I know. I hate that too, but I can’t muster up the energy to not be.

“I’ll be replacing Tru,” says a sardonic, firm, and, frankly, sexy female voice. “Maybe.”

That last word was muttered. So quiet I almost didn’t hear it.

My hand holding the coffee mug freezes part way to my mouth. Because that voice—something about that voice—has my heart suddenly crawling into my throat. The soft, almost muffled quality of that word is so familiar, like it echoed across my dreams.

And not the happy ones.

I turn around, my eyes zeroing in on the unfamiliar person. The woman in a dark blue blazer. Only to find she’s not unfamiliar.

I’ve seen her before, I’m certain. For a moment, my rapidly beating heart squeezes so hard I feel like I’ve caught a thrashing animal there.

Could it be?

But the woman smirks, and my heart sinks like a stone. Of course the person I thought she was wouldn’t look familiar. I never properly saw her face.Idiot. But worse—oh so much worse—my stomach plummets, because I know exactly who this woman is.

“Tru.” I set my coffee down on the counter a little too hard, leveling my gaze at my assistant. My excellent, annoying-as-hell assistant who’s going off to her beautiful dream life. She’s finally found her replacement, and it’s the worst person imaginable. “No you fucking didn’t.”

“I did,” Tru says, looking pleased. Like not pleased because I’m suffering, but pleased because she thinks she did good. She did not.

I narrow my eyes at the woman in question. All I wanted that morning was some goddamned hair of the dog. She may have given me an impressive run for my money, but she was an enormous pain in my ass.

I shake my head, moving back toward the bedroom. “Nope.”

“Hopper!” Tru says. Her tone holds a warning.

I don’t care. Not about this. I stalk to my closet, my fist wrapping around the first piece of fabric I can reach. It’s a silky black dress shirt. I toss it aside, annoyed. I look around, overwhelmed by all the drawers, then spot the hamper.

“Hop, no!” Cindi says at the door, like I’m a dog.

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