Page 2 of Truth or Tequila (Grand Slam 1)

“Ma’am, I need you to clear the driveway.” He hits the roof of my car a few times.

I ignore him as I dial Roman. It rings a few times before he picks up.

“Sophia!” Roman doesn’t use FaceTime much. As usual, he’s holding the phone way too close. All I can see are his eyes and part of his forehead.

“Hey, Roman. Can I use your spot at the hotel tonight? It’s crazy down here and I’m so late.”

Roman’s one of my former clients. I helped his hotel recover from an onslaught of bad press resulting from a food poisoning incident. He’s my biggest fan now and he’s become one of my best friends.

“You’re late? That’s shocking, Soph,” he laughs. “And you know you can always use that spot, honey. Henry knows to let you in.”

“There’s somebody new.” I turn the camera toward the lot attendant who’s pushing my car—like he’s going to move it or something.

“Hey.” Roman drags out his greeting as he tries to figure out who’s working the lot. I hold the phone closer to the attendant. “Oh, it’s Orlando. Hey man, it’s Roman. Let Sophia use my spot any time she needs it.”

Orlando leans into the phone. “Oh. Okay. Yes, sir,” he says, stepping quickly out of the way. He runs ahead of me and removes the chain blocking Roman’s spot.

“Thanks, Rome.” I turn the camera back toward me. “Hey, did you get a call from Gary Randall for a reference?”

“Yeah, yesterday,” he grunts. “I gave you a glowing review, of course, but I told him how direct you are. Gary’s not as laid back as I am. He’s kind of an asshole.”

“Well, I have a meet-and-greet with him tomorrow, so I guess he’s okay with my directness. You know their current situation. The media’s been talking about nothing else. He needs me.”

“Yeah, he does need you. Just watch out for him. I think he’s more interested in covering up scandal, than facing it and getting better. He’s not very evolved. Scratch that. He’s not at all evolved. And then there’s his son, Gentry. All kinds of rumors about him.”

“What kind of rumors?” I say, refreshing my lipstick in the rearview mirror.

“Not good ones. He’s a spoiled brat. I think he’s used to taking what he wants—whether or not it wants to be taken, if you know what I mean. Just be careful. Don’t be alone with him until you get a better read.”

“Noted.” I focus the phone on my face. “Does this lipstick do anything for me? It’s new.”

“Yeah, honey. It’s beautiful.” He tilts his head. “Your hair looks a little questionable. It’s stuck to the side of your head. When’s the last time you washed it?”

“This morning,” I sigh, as I try to fluff it with my fingers. “It’s so humid here today.”

“Maybe put it up. What are you wearing?”

“That white, flowy maxi dress you like. You know the one you said I should only wear running through lilac fields in Provence.”

“The see-through one?” He raises his eyebrows. “Are you wearing something under it this time?”

“It’s not see-through,” I say, scanning the phone down my body. “So you think hair up is okay with this?”

“All I’m seeing is your cleavage. Get out of the car and give me a full-body shot.”

Orlando looks at me suspiciously from across the lot as I prop the phone up on the roof of my car and do a few spins for Roman.

“First, it’s definitely see-through, and second, hair up is perfect. Maybe a low side ponytail coming over your shoulder.”

I grab a tie out of my bag and use my window as a mirror. “Better?” I say, turning back to the phone.

“Much. Pull that top part up a little. Yeah, like that. Sexy as hell.”

“Who’s sexy as hell?” I hear Michael, Roman’s husband, laughing in the background. Roman turns the phone around to him.

“Momma mia, Sophia!” Michael clasps his hand over his chest. “You’re going to turn me with that little dress you’re wearing. Your boobies look beautiful.”

“What do you know about boobies?” Roman’s rolling his eyes as he turns the phone back to himself.

---