My Best Friend's Brother(4)

I felt a shiver ricochet up my spine right before he jumped into my mind. My ex. My fucking ex sucking the face off my ex-host.


It had crumbled my walls when I'd seen him. That man had been everything  to me. Tight, tailored suits, took care of his appearance. Never got on  me for the time it took me to get ready. Had no issues waiting one,  even two hours for me to put myself together. He always wanted to look  his best, and he always cheered me on when I looked my best. We were  successful, a rising power couple.


Until I caught him jamming his tongue down the throat of the person I usually did my show with.


Thankfully, I floated the show just fine. I started the show on my own,  took on a co-host when the money started coming in, and didn't look  back. It was nice, volleying the show to someone every once in a while.  We were able to add new segments, talk about new and exciting topics,  and if there was ever a time I was sick, there was someone already  standing in.


But I also had no issues firing her, and ever since, my show has taken  off even more. I'm more successful than I'd ever been in the beginning,  and it was because of the stance I took and the zero-tolerance policy I  reigned down that garnered me that following.


I just happened to leave out the fact that I got her fired because I was fucking livid.


I stuffed the number into my pocket and grabbed my purse. I was meeting  my best friend for dinner, and I didn't want to be late. Emma Nelson was  the only other person in Dallas besides Angie that I ever talked to.  Being famous didn't lend a lifestyle that allowed me to make friends  easily. Most people either segued into my money, some sort of donation,  or used my platform and following as a way to bolster their own social  media campaigns and followings.         

     



 


So, I stuck with my tried and true, Emma and Angie.


I had Emma for my outside world and Angie for my stardom world.


"Sarah!"


Emma flagged me down in the restaurant as I went rushing over to her. I  embraced her tightly, holding her close as we hugged in the middle of a  fine Italian restaurant. Italian was always my go-to comfort food in  times of stress, so when Emma had suggested it, it was obvious she knew  something was up.


"Oh my gosh, why don't we see one another more often?" I asked as I released her.


"Because you're too busy and hate me, that's why," she said.


"I could never hate you, Emma," I said.


"I took the liberty of ordering. Penne noodles with shrimp and that  asiago cheese alfredo sauce they have, garlic bread, and sweet tea.  Tiramisu for dessert."


"Why are you a woman?" I said, groaning. "We could be so good together."


"Sorry, chica. Vaginas for life. Now, spill. What's got you all in knots?"


"I talked to you once today. Through text message. How the hell did you know?"


"I always know. That's what best friends do. What's up?" she asked.


I picked up the sweet tea sat in front of me and took a huge gulp.  Automatically, a wave of relief cascaded over my body as I sunk back  into my chair.


"You're so beautiful, you know that? I hate you."


"Oooh. Deflection. It's bad. Thanks, you're beautiful, too. Obligatory  compliments out of the way. Talk to me, Sarah. It's what I'm here for."


"No seriously. You're tall. Slender. Blond hair almost the color of  snow. Dead white skin that makes men want to cuddle you. Piercing green  eyes."


My mind slid back to Mason's beautiful green eyes, and for a second, I got lost in my own train of thought.


"Shit, you met someone, didn't you?" he asked.


"Why did that phrase start with shit?" I asked.


"Because you shouldn't be rushing into another relationship. It's only been a month since the whole Cody debacle."


"But he's so attractive. He gave me his number. Him. Giving me his  number. That doesn't happen to women like me. They ask me for it, or I  ask them for it. Never like this," I said.


"That doesn't mean anything, Sarah."


"Easy for you to say. Your chalky white legs draw in men willing to practically hand you their cocks," I said.


"I'm still not sure if you're complimenting me or not, but this really isn't a good idea."


"Aren't you the one who said I needed to get under someone to get over Cody?" I asked.


"Yes, when you were wallowing in self-pity. You're not any longer. You  rose from your ashes. Fired that bitch and took back your territory. You  had your fight, and now it's time to heal."


"I'm healed, Emma. I really am," I said. "It's nothing serious. Just a  fun little night out. This guy, he's not serious anyway. It would only  be a date or two."


"Is that really someone you want to get tangled up with anyway?" she asked.


"I'm not looking for someone to marry. I'm looking for some fun. Some spice. Some lovin'."


I shook my tits in the restaurant as Emma giggled, snorting as she tried to cover up her face.


"You really don't think this is a good idea, do you?" I asked.


"Look, you took a major stance against that on your social media. That  shit was everywhere. And I was so proud of you. The women of the world  stood with you. How's it going to look if you're caught out with someone  who you say is a known playboy or something?" she asked.


"I didn't think of it that way."


"That's why we talk to each other," she said. "Sarah, take this time for  yourself. Post photos of you taking yourself to the spa. Taking  yourself to the gym. Taking yourself on a trip to Ireland. Make it a  series on your social media or something. Show women they don't need a  man to give them these things. They can just simply go out and do them  because that's what they want to do."


"You sure you won't let me hire you to be my social media expert?" I  asked. "Because this shit's exhausting, and that's a fabulous idea."


"I'm sure," she said, giggling. "I enjoy the work I do."


"You enjoy working with animals that hate you every second of every day?" I asked.


"They don't hate me. And yes, I enjoy the doggie daycare I run. I'm expanding, you know."         

     



 


"Get out of here. What are you adding?" I asked.


"A second location," she said.


"What the fuck, Emma? That's great!"


"Yep. I finally have the money to do it, and I just hit a point where  I'm turning clients away. I'm going to look at places tomorrow, and I'm  looking to sign off on a place Friday."


"This Friday?" I asked. "As in three days from now?"


"Yep. Been narrowing it down, and I have it between two places. I want  it close enough to where I can send people there without it being an  inconvenience to them. One place is three blocks down the road and one  is two blocks up."


"I'm so happy for you," I said. "Really."


"Thanks," she said, smiling. "And look. I know you're lonely sometimes. I  get it. I really do. Being the badass bitches we are doesn't leave a  lot of time for lovin'."


I giggled and shook my head as she continued.


"But you know that's how it always starts. You say it's nothing serious,  then pretty soon you're into it like you were with Cody. Like you were  with-"


"Don't say his name."


"Okay. I won't. But you get my point, right?" she asked.


"All right. All right. I won't call him. Got it," I said.


"Thank you. Trust me, you thank me for it later."


"I still wish you had a dick," I said, grinning.


"We can always just move in together and Thelma and Louise it up for the rest of our lives."


"Minus the driving off a cliff. Feet stay firmly planted," I said.


"Skydiving?"


"Nope."


"Bungee jumping?"


"Nuh-uh."


"Plunging over Niagara Falls?"


"I'd rather set myself on fire," I said.


"Let's get you a dildo," she whispered just as our food came.


"Could I take a picture of that trip and put it on social media?"


We laughed through the rest of our dinner, Mason's number quickly  forgotten as I tossed my pants into the hamper once I got home.




Chapter 4


Mason


It'd been two days since I'd left my number with Sarah's assistant, and I  hadn't heard a peep. Not a phone call. Not a text message. Not a voice  mail.


Nothing.


This never happened. Women practically fell over themselves to call me. I  honestly expected her to be on the phone with me that evening, but I  gave her assistant the benefit of the doubt. But last night? I should've  definitely heard from her. I should've already had a date set up with  her somewhere nice. I should've already been picking out my suit, what  car I'd pick her up in, as well as what present I'd drip across her skin  before plowing between her legs later on that evening.


There was only one logical explanation for this bullshit.


She had an incompetent assistant.