right?”
“Not like I meant MILF.” She raised her eyebrows, egging her on.
“Stop! Ignorance of adult movies is my bliss.” Lex shook her head.
“St. Barth’s it is.” Together, they pulled their roller bags toward the French West Indies Airlines ticket counter. “We have to tell Vive we’re coming her way.”
“Totally. She’ll kill us if we don’t.” Lex always tried to include everyone.
“Anguilla isn’t far. Maybe she can take a boat over.”
“I haven’t seen that Farnworth Firewater boat in years.” Lex laughed. “Is it still yellow?”
“Beats me.” Taddy was happy how this had turned out. She’d finally get some alone time with her friends. “Something tells me this is going to be a blast.”
She’d texted Kiki who cyber chatted with DJ Dejon who’d spun for a casino owner with several properties in the Leeward Caribbean Islands. The nightclub proprietor knew one hotel in St. Barth’s where three socialites could go and relax and be left alone, but they didn’t allow any celebrities or paparazzi. Kiki booked Taddy, Lex and Vive under the code name Mademoiselle Red in a three-bedroom villa separated by a living quarters at Secrète de St. Barth , a Warner Truman five-star resort.
Taddy knew the hotel chain well. Brill, Inc. faced his midtown masterpiece, Truman Times Square. A large corporation, Truman Enterprises was synonymous with hotel excellence and first-class spa royalty.
Chapter Five
Pussy Glamour
December 30
St. Barth’s French West Indies
“Rielle, you are violating the restraining order. You can’t call here.” Warner had been pretty sure he’d hear from his ex-fiancée this week. The flowers gave warning. Christmas and New Year’s always brought out remorse.
“Being a dick is no way to start the New Year. I hoped…” She panted into the phone, sounding like a thirsty horse desperate for water. Her Texan twang grated on his nerves.
“I don’t care what you wished. We ended ‘us’ awhile ago. Move on.” He unfastened his top button and rubbed his neck. Get lost, woman.
“Please, Warner, give me another chance. We’ll be fine a second time around, as smooth as cream gravy.” Her voice grew louder. “I promise I have changed, honey pie.”
“Changed?” Warner laughed. “You’re a chameleon. One woman one minute, and another woman the next. I don’t trust you.” He looked at the ceiling fan and hit the remote to make the blade spin faster. Air, he needed air.
“I am still the same sweet girl you fell in love with.” The bar noise behind her boomed, confirming she’d never change.
“The Rielle I cared for and loved spoke honest words—or so I thought.” He thought back to her championing his causes. She exuded poise and selflessness at the time. All fake.
“I am still all those things and more…sugar.” She muffled the phone, perhaps to mute the racket.
He’d met Rielle when she volunteered for the Jacqueline Truman Foundation, a nonprofit Warner had established in his late wife’s honor. Its purpose was to provide financial relief and treatment to those diagnosed with bone cancer, primarily for patients without health insurance. Warner appreciated Rielle’s unassuming ways. However, she’d identified him ages prior.
After they’d broken up, her friends admitted she’d stalked him for months in hopes of an accidental introduction. When that didn’t happen, she applied to the foundation for a coordinator position. Warner was taken aback by her good looks and desire to commit to the cause. Rielle’s story about how she’d lost her mother, Connie Bruni, to bone cancer created a bond between them.
On the contrary, Rielle’s intentions weren’t to help those in need, only herself. And Connie was alive and well living in The Great Ranch Trailer Park in Fort Worth, Texas. Connie was cancer free because she had never been diagnosed with the disease in the first place, all part of Rielle’s scam. “You based our entire
“Not like I meant MILF.” She raised her eyebrows, egging her on.
“Stop! Ignorance of adult movies is my bliss.” Lex shook her head.
“St. Barth’s it is.” Together, they pulled their roller bags toward the French West Indies Airlines ticket counter. “We have to tell Vive we’re coming her way.”
“Totally. She’ll kill us if we don’t.” Lex always tried to include everyone.
“Anguilla isn’t far. Maybe she can take a boat over.”
“I haven’t seen that Farnworth Firewater boat in years.” Lex laughed. “Is it still yellow?”
“Beats me.” Taddy was happy how this had turned out. She’d finally get some alone time with her friends. “Something tells me this is going to be a blast.”
She’d texted Kiki who cyber chatted with DJ Dejon who’d spun for a casino owner with several properties in the Leeward Caribbean Islands. The nightclub proprietor knew one hotel in St. Barth’s where three socialites could go and relax and be left alone, but they didn’t allow any celebrities or paparazzi. Kiki booked Taddy, Lex and Vive under the code name Mademoiselle Red in a three-bedroom villa separated by a living quarters at Secrète de St. Barth , a Warner Truman five-star resort.
Taddy knew the hotel chain well. Brill, Inc. faced his midtown masterpiece, Truman Times Square. A large corporation, Truman Enterprises was synonymous with hotel excellence and first-class spa royalty.
Chapter Five
Pussy Glamour
December 30
St. Barth’s French West Indies
“Rielle, you are violating the restraining order. You can’t call here.” Warner had been pretty sure he’d hear from his ex-fiancée this week. The flowers gave warning. Christmas and New Year’s always brought out remorse.
“Being a dick is no way to start the New Year. I hoped…” She panted into the phone, sounding like a thirsty horse desperate for water. Her Texan twang grated on his nerves.
“I don’t care what you wished. We ended ‘us’ awhile ago. Move on.” He unfastened his top button and rubbed his neck. Get lost, woman.
“Please, Warner, give me another chance. We’ll be fine a second time around, as smooth as cream gravy.” Her voice grew louder. “I promise I have changed, honey pie.”
“Changed?” Warner laughed. “You’re a chameleon. One woman one minute, and another woman the next. I don’t trust you.” He looked at the ceiling fan and hit the remote to make the blade spin faster. Air, he needed air.
“I am still the same sweet girl you fell in love with.” The bar noise behind her boomed, confirming she’d never change.
“The Rielle I cared for and loved spoke honest words—or so I thought.” He thought back to her championing his causes. She exuded poise and selflessness at the time. All fake.
“I am still all those things and more…sugar.” She muffled the phone, perhaps to mute the racket.
He’d met Rielle when she volunteered for the Jacqueline Truman Foundation, a nonprofit Warner had established in his late wife’s honor. Its purpose was to provide financial relief and treatment to those diagnosed with bone cancer, primarily for patients without health insurance. Warner appreciated Rielle’s unassuming ways. However, she’d identified him ages prior.
After they’d broken up, her friends admitted she’d stalked him for months in hopes of an accidental introduction. When that didn’t happen, she applied to the foundation for a coordinator position. Warner was taken aback by her good looks and desire to commit to the cause. Rielle’s story about how she’d lost her mother, Connie Bruni, to bone cancer created a bond between them.
On the contrary, Rielle’s intentions weren’t to help those in need, only herself. And Connie was alive and well living in The Great Ranch Trailer Park in Fort Worth, Texas. Connie was cancer free because she had never been diagnosed with the disease in the first place, all part of Rielle’s scam. “You based our entire
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