Page 90 of Token

Phil

Pain shot through her like shrapnel from an explosion. A punch in the gut would have been kinder. Her shocked gaze flew to Jonathan, who looked equal parts sympathetic and blazing mad.

Kennedy had been prepared for some sort of racist or sexist bullshit—what else would be newsworthy? Never in a million years had she thought it would be coming from Phil, whom, up until ten seconds ago, she’d considered a friend. She’d had dinner over at his house, for goodness’ sake. He’d recommended her services to his friends and business associates. She’d thought he genuinely liked her.

Well, it was definitely time to put that fairy tale to rest for good. Stiffening her spine, she forced herself to read on.

Re: Sahara-Kennedy Mitchell ???

Sam Weber

Tuesday, June 6, 2020

To: Phillip Draper

On her back. LOL. That’s all they do anyway, eat, sleep, fuck, and push out a kid every year so they can get on the public dime. This would be a step up for her.

She’d always thought Sam was an ass. At least she’d been right about that.

Re: Re: Sahara-Kennedy Mitchell ???

Phillip Draper

Tuesday, June 6, 2020

To: Sam Weber

As far as I know, she doesn’t have any kids, so a fucking unicorn. But she’s hot. I’d do her. I see a shit-ton of late nights in her future. She can be my first. LOL.

Phil

When she thought Phil had already reached rock bottom, he performed a Houdini maneuver and sank even lower. How had she not seen this side of him, astute judge of character that she was?

Re: Re: Re: Sahara-Kennedy Mitchell ???

Sam Weber

Tuesday, June 6, 2020

To: Phillip Draper

Then sign me up for a threesome with her and the blonde. I won’t tell your wife if you don’t tell mine. ;)

Kennedy wanted to throw up. The men were vile and reducing Aurora to “the blonde” was reprehensible. Setting her phone down, she raised her eyes to Jonathan. “I have a feeling they won’t be calling me to help fix this one.”

Jonathan growled, baring his teeth. “Bastards. Racist, sexist bastards.”

Kennedy rolled her shoulders before reclining in her chair. She’d never been one of thosemassages are the ultimate de-stressorpeople, but her neck, shoulders, and back wouldn’t say no to one right about now.

“I shouldn’t be surprised. I’m sure this stuff happens every day. But you know what they say—what you don’t know won’t hurt you. Ignorance is bliss. That’s never been my philosophy. I hate being kept in the dark about things like this. My dad always said it’s better to know your enemies. Well, now I know.” She wasn’t going to lie—this one hurt.

“What are you going to do? A reporter just called asking for a comment, and they’re going to keep calling—and digging—until we provide them with a statement.”

Like sharks smelling blood, the media had already begun to circle. She, of all people, knew how this worked. But she was usually on the other end of reputation-damaging scandals, not personally embroiled in them. She needed time to think. Time to formulate a plan, because this kind of exposure wasn’t simply personally unwanted and intrusive. It wasn’t good for the agency. Certainly not the part of the business that required anonymity for their clients.

“I’ll come up with something. Give me a few hours. In the meantime, tell the staff not to talk to the press. And if a client calls with concerns, send them through to me.”

The day, which had just started, now stretched out like a prison sentence.

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