Page 36 of Sin Bin

My fingers tightened around the receiver because, honestly? I felt the same way. “Shouldn’t we refrain from judging others, Mr.Campbell?”

“Perhaps,” Mr. Campbell murmuredambivalently.

“So, you’ll consider takinghimback?”

“No.”

“Mr. Campbell,” I said, just short of begging, “Give him achance.”

“Unlike you, Miss Mackenzie, my firm has decided that Andre Beaumont is all out ofchances.”

Something about the way he said that struck me as odd. “What do you mean, ‘unlikeme’?”

“The fact that you’re dating him again after your scandal last year? It doesn’t matter, Miss Mackenzie. The answer remains no. Have agoodday.”

Datinghim. . .?

As I stuff my arms into my leather jacket at the end of the day, I deduce that I’m no closer to figuring out the missing link to Andre’s unfinished puzzle, but it’s pretty clear to me that the people I’ve spoken to today think that Andre and I are a “thing.”

Over mydeadbody.

We haven’t even spoken since our almost-kiss in the elevator atFameyesterday morning. If you’re wondering, our ride back to Boston was as awkwardly painful as you might imagine. I’m pretty sure that the only words we exchanged were at a highway-side gas station when he refilled his car, and I stuffed myself into a cramped restroom stalltopee.

“Zoe!”

At the sound of the female voice, I glance up. After a week of working for Golden Lights, Gwen James and I haven’t really stopped to chat since that very first day. She’s too busy, I think, dealing with clients who actually respect her, and I’ve been too busy wallowing in Dante’s ninth circle of hell with AndreBeaumont.

Sliding my purse strap over my shoulder, I tap a few keys out on the computer keyboard and shut the desktop down. “Heading home?” I ask her, hoping she won’t dig too deeply into my epic fail of a workday. The last thing I need her to know is that I’m on the verge of letting down Golden Lights Media in abigway.

With a shake of her head, Gwen’s long, red hair bounces like something out of a hair commercial. I’m slightly envious, if only because my dark hair rarely does anything but act like a wild child, completelyuntamed.

Stepping into my office, Gwen takes a quick look around before settling her hands on her hips. “Actually, I’m not heading home yet. I was hoping to catch you beforeyouleft.”

That doesn’t sound good. Clearly, I’m about to be given the can, and I’ll be forced to work at Vittoria for the rest of my life. Bracing myself for the worst, Isqueak, “Oh?”

“Do you have planstonight?”

I blink. All day I’d planned to head home and lick my wounds. Maybe it’s been too long since I’ve been in the field, but after nine hours of working toward a total crapshoot goal, I’m feeling rathersensitive.

Oh, God, I’ve lost mythickskin.

I wonder if it’s the sort of thing you can earn back, or, once you’ve become a certifiable watering pot, likely to cry at any moment a door shuts in your face, you’ve lostallhope.

“Zoe?” Gwen prompts, her blue eyes carefully studying my face. “Youthere?”

“Sorry, yes, I’m here. And, no, no plans.” My dad mentioned something about helping out again at Vittoria tonight, but as I’d rather not do so . . . “Did you need me forsomething?”

“The Blades are up against the Philadelphia Flyers tonight. Through the grapevine I heard that a few prospective sponsors will be up in the box, and I thought thatperhaps. . . ”

The word “opportunity” flashes before my eyes like an actual slideshow, and I immediately stand to attention, my shoulders pushing back and my chin coming up. “I’ll go—this will be great.” Casting a quick glance down at my wristwatch, I note the time. “The game is starting in thirty minutes, isn’t it? If I leave now, I’ll make it with time tospare.”

“Great!” Gwen claps her hands together, adding, “Perfect. I really didn’t want to goalone.”

Alone?

“You’re coming along?” This cannot be good. “Is this a test to see how well I do out inthewild?”

“Oh, no!” She waves her hand in the air, dismissing me with just a flap of her slender arm. “Definitely not. You really should be there tonight because it might open some doors up for you. I’m just . . . Well, can I let you in on a littlesecret?”

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