Page 1 of The Hot Mess

Prologue

Itapped my pen on the corner of my desk, keeping the report in my hands positioned just so anyone walking by wouldn’t see the romance novel hidden behind it—the real focus of my attention. My family owned and operated Heartstring, a dating app. A romance novel wasn’t entirely unrelated to my job, right? Plus, I was on a deadline. My weekly book club meeting was happening after work, so I needed to get the book finished by then.

I reached for the coffee on the corner of my desk and brought it to my lips for a sip, promptly spitting it out when I realized it was yesterday’s coffee—cold and gross. I accidentally sprayed the pages of the book I needed to finish.

As I was trying to assess the damage, a reminder popped up on my computer. It was time for another meeting with my siblings—the Heartstring executives. I quickly blotted off the book the best I could and laid it out flat to dry before rushing off to the board room.

I don’t know why I bothered rushing. I was always the first one to arrive, followed by my older sister, Camille. Lucas would follow in behind her. Our other brother, Joshua, would straggle in last. But at least he showed at all, which was a big problem with him up until recently.

As predicted, Camille arrived three minutes after me, rushing in with her fresh coffee in one hand and a briefcase in the other. Sometimes it amazed me that she could snag a hottie like her fiance, Mark Silver. She was more hopeless than I was in her tailored suits and thick-rimmed glasses. We were both gorgeous under all of our fashion dullness, though, something we inherited from our mother.

Lucas came in a few moments later, looking ready to get straight down to business as always. He sat at the head of the table, as our CEO, and started glancing impatiently at his watch every few seconds. Despite Joshua’s improved work performance and attendance, Lucas still watched him like a hawk, criticizing him for being even just a few minutes late. It must have been some sort of weird brother rivalry. Like they were constantly competing with each other, both wanting the other to succeed but also maybe secretly hoping they’d fail.

He sighed when Joshua finally did come in. Maybe because he had showed up right on the dot, so Lucas had no right to comment on tardiness.

“Now that we’re all here…” He jabbed at him anyway. “Let’s get started.”

“What’s on the docket for today?” Joshua smirked, ignoring Lucas’s critical tone.

“Something pretty important,” he announced. “I’ve been reviewing the numbers, and we’re getting into a position where we can start shuffling some people around.”

“Promotions?” Camille asked.

“For those who are interested.” He nodded. “I’m still working out the logistics and where I want everyone, but if any of you are looking for more on your plates, and in your pockets, now is the time to tell me.”

His words faded as I drifted off into a daydream about the book I had just been reading. It was a steamy office romance, and it was hard not to picture a scene where the main guy seduced his secretary right in the boardroom, just like the one I was sitting in.

I knew the promotions Lucas was talking about weren’t intended for me anyway. We all knew I wasn’t the type who did well with a lot of responsibility or pressure. And even if I was, they had the stronger personalities and the drive to go with them. It was no competition. If anyone was moving up, it’d be Camille and Joshua…not me.

The meeting went by in a flash, and no one seemed to care that I wasn’t more interested or engaged. Joshua and I were similar in the sense that we seemed to be of little consequence to the success and function of the company. The only difference was that I was smart enough to show up and look busy. For the longest time, he didn’t even bother with that much.

Finally, it was five o’clock, which meant I was free to rush off to my book club. I slipped my now coffee-stained book into my bag and headed out the door. It was springtime in the city, which meant the air was filled with the fragrant blooms of the trees. And it was just starting to get warm enough to not need a jacket if you were in the sun.

I watched the sunset over the tops of the buildings as I walked to my friend Jane’s house, just a few blocks from my office. She was an editor with an apartment that looked like the cover of one of her magazines. The only thing she loved more than interior design and pastel florals was romance novels—a shared love between us.

She answered her door with the book still in hand and her reading glasses perched on her nose. “Oh hi, Jada! Come in, come in. I was just finalizing my notes for the meeting this evening. You’re always the first one to arrive.”

I checked my watch just to ensure I wasn’t ridiculously early. In fact, I was right on time. So the problem was really more so that everyone else was always late. That was the kind of social etiquette I somehow managed to miss. I never got the memo that said the cool kids were always fashionably late.

Jane showed me into her Victorian-style sitting room with tea and cookies arranged on the coffee table. There were also the makings for cocktails sitting on the bar cart in the corner, but Jane was always nice enough to make tea since she knew I wasn’t a big drinker.

We talked about how our weeks were going until Lucy showed up. She was a dog groomer from the other side of town who looked closer to age fifteen than her actual twenty five. She was endearing and sweet, but could surprisingly drink anyone under the table.

“Where’s the vermouth?” she asked immediately. “I’m making us martinis.”

“Oh, no…Make something sweeter,” Jane suggested. “You know Jada will never drink a martini.”

My own idiosyncrasies were starting to get on my nerves.Always on time or early—the first to arrive. Reads and daydreams on the clock. Doesn’t drink martinis.But I smiled politely and let Jane play hostess as she wished.

“Cosmopolitans?” she asked.

Jane turned and watched for my approval.

“Now you’re talking,” I smiled tightly. I didn’t know why it mattered. I would only drink one.

Lucy followed Jane into the kitchen just as Magda was arriving—a Swedish supermodel who didn’t look like she belonged in our little group. She had a Kate Moss smokey eye look that I would have sworn she was somehow born with, since you never saw her without it. She always wore tight little dresses and boots and baggy coats. She’d often interrupt discussions to go out onto the balcony and smoke cigarettes—another glamorous trait I was smart enough not to start. But sometimes when I watched her do it, I wished I had. It somehow added to her allure.

I pulled that night’s book out of my bag while the others filled their glasses and one for me since they always insisted on including me on every little thing whether I liked it or not. While they gossiped and chatted about their latest life updates, I trailed my thumbs along the heroine’s silhouette on the cover. She was so sassy and bold. Outspoken and daring. She wasn’t a smoker or a drinker, but she would dip her toes in either on the right night.

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