Page 128 of Biggest Player
“Front page of what?” I scrunch up my face. “I thought the internet was digital.”
He sighs—loudly. “Pleasefollow along, Dex.Please.”
I thought that’s what I was doing, but whatever. He doesn’t have to sound so goddamn frustrated.
“You and your new girlfriend. It’s a nice article about how you’re dating a single mom. It’s fucking brilliant! Makes you look like a Boy Scout.”
“It does?” This is great news. Really great fucking news.
I lean against the counter, holding the phone to my ear. “What did they say about her?”
Trent’s tone is brisk, as usual. “Just the basics. They mention she’s a single mom, a teacher, and that she’s got a good head on her shoulders, blah blah blah. They even included a picture of you two from the other night, but obviously they blurred out the kid.”
I don’t love how he refers to Wyatt asthe kidbut don’t make an issue of it. The less he knows, the better, even though Trent goes digging on his own. In fact, he probably hired the guy outside my house to take pictures of Margot coming and going.
“You look happy. Nice work.”
I smile at my reflection, feeling a surge of pride. “That’s because I am happy. It’s not an act.”
“Sure.” Trent chuckles. “Sure it’s not.” He pauses. “Just be ready for more attention—this kind of coverage is going to put you in the spotlight even more, which is exactly what we want. But keep it positive, and don’t dump her until we have a plan in place.”
Don’t dump her until we have a plan in place ...
My stomach drops to the floor.
“Yeah, yeah. I hear you.” I run a hand through my hair, not sure what else to say because suddenly this conversation is making me ill. It’s a reminder about how I was prompted to contact Margot again—not because I was dying to see her, but because I need to make myself look good. Better.
In the media.
Not because I want tobegood orbebetter.
Then.
I’m saved by the bell—literally.
The doorbell rings, and I pause. “I should go. There’s someone at her door.”
“So? It’s her door. Let her take care of it.”
Sometimes Trent is such an asshole.
“I’ll call you back,” I say before ending the call and shoving my phone back into my pocket. “Dickhead.”
But Trent’s words echo through my mind as I pull open the bathroom door and head back toward the front of Margot’s house, curiosity piqued by the unexpected visitor. As I reach the living room, I hear voices and pause.
Stand still in my spot around the corner, listening.
“What are you doing here?” Margot is saying.
“Mind if I come in?” asks a man’s voice. It’s deep and low and raises the hair on the back of my neck.
“I’m kind of in the middle of something,” she says, and if I had to guess, I’d say her arms were crossed right now. “Where’s Wyatt?”
“At Target with Gretchen.”
“Ahh. Gotcha.”
The tension in Margot’s voice is palpable, and I feel my muscles tighten as I lean, trying to stay out of sight but within earshot.
