Jennie

Lisa maneuvered through Bluewater like she was intimately familiar with my community. I didn't like it. She snuck down Tequila Lane and cut across Tiki Bar Drive like she'd been born avoiding the early morning tai chi golf cart and foot traffic jam.

"Nice cock," she noted when we passed the eight-foot-tall hand-carved rooster near the gate.

"Huh. I was just thinking the same thing," Alison mused from the back seat.

Ha ha. So funny. Hilarious. I crossed my arms over my chest and made a mental list of all the ways I could dispose of Lisa's body.

A crisis management firm? I didn't like it. And I really didn't like anything about Lisa Manoban. She was high-handed. Condescending. Take charge.

Sure. Some women liked that.

Some women would probably like the naked trespassing, too.

But I wasn't some women. I was Jennie gosh darn Kim, and I was hanging on by my fingernails.

Shit. I needed to schedule a manicure.

I keyed in the note to my phone as we cruised through Bluewater.

My home along with my cohorts' houses were tucked away on the very tip of the enclave accessed by a small bridge. A pretty lagoon divided our cul de sac from the rest of the community. It offered the seclusion I'd wanted, though Chu was our mini-neighborhood busybody. She kept tabs on all our comings and goings. An orphan herself, she'd adopted the rest of us as family and fussed over us like a mother hen.

On cue, my phone vibrated in my purse.

I fished it out.

Chu: Who's the GQ eye candy?

I did a mental eye roll.

Me: Just someone who broke into my house and got naked last night. Long story.

Four seconds later, I had question mark texts from Rosé and Nayeon in a group message.

Me: Guys, it's a long story, and I'm hoping to get rid of her today.

Chu: I ran an image search. That hunk of pheromones is The Lisa Manoban.

Nayeon: You hired her! I'm so proud. I was going to gift her to you, but I know how you feel about people being up in your business.

Rosé: Wait. Jennie hired a prostitute?

Nayeon: Business. Not "bis-natch." She's a crisis management specialist and a damn good one, too. She shines up the tarnished. I used her after the shoplifting debacle of 2016.

Chu: I'm running through her website and social media presences. Seems legit. And also very very gorgeous. Like carved by angels out of heavenly marble gorgeous. Question: is it legal for human beings to be that attractive?

I rolled my eyes. Since when did legit mean a naked meet and greet after breaking and entering?

My board had saddled me with a criminal to keep me from being labeled as one.

I shot a glance at Lisa and her "heavenly" profile. Damn it. Okay. I could admit that she was attractive. Beautiful even. She had those slight hollows under her cheekbones that made her look pensive and angular. Her jaw was sharp. Behind her sunglasses I knew were heavily lashed eyes Browner than Chocolates. The scar under her eye was acceptable. The dimple… not revolting.

She wore a tailored suit sans tie, and her skin had the dusky bronze hue of a year-round Miami resident. Fine. She wasn't hideous. But that didn't mean she was good at her job. Or that I required her services.

Nayeon: Tell her I said hi.

She added a winky kissy face.

I would do no such thing. I wasn't going to let this Lisa Manoban any further into my life than she'd already bulldozed her way in.

We hit the causeway, leaving my palm-treed haven behind us. Immediately, a rusty minivan cut across three lanes of traffic and slammed on its brakes in front of us. I braced my hand on the dash and squeaked out a warning.

Alison usually responded by shoving her middle finger salute through the open sunroof. But Lisa was cooler. She merely cut the wheel to the left and accelerated around the—was that child even old enough to be driving?

"Everyone behind the wheel in Miami is an animal," she observed cheerfully.

As if jumping to prove her point, a pickup truck that hadn't passed inspection in at least a decade bounced off the concrete divider and continued to skim it for a hundred yards before jerking back over into traffic.

"We should have taken the helicopter," Alison said.

"If we took the helicopter, we wouldn't be able to go through a drive-thru," Lisa said.

She perked up in the back seat. "Carbs 'n Coffee?"

It was a local doughnut chain with speedy drive-thrus and pastries with specialty flavors like Coconut Chia and Chocolate Lemon Drop. My stomach growled on command. When was the last time I'd had a donut? Mom had made that snide comment about "expanding bottom lines" on Christmas Eve. I hadn't had a simple carbohydrate since.

It was sad that giving up sugar was easier than defying my own mother.

I said nothing as Lisa neatly squeezed between a Lamborghini and a station wagon and took the exit into downtown Miami.

"Bless you," Alison breathed as she pulled into Carbs 'n Coffee and lowered her window.

"What'll it be, ladies?" she said with a dazzling grin.

I was dazzled. But only because I was hungry.

Alison rattled off a tooth-rotting order, which Lisa relayed to the crackling speaker.

When had I last been through a drive-thru? I had a chef three days a week at home, and healthy deliveries filled in the gaps.

"I'll have the spinach egg white wrap," I said, even as my stomach begged for something sweeter. I was in the midst of the worst scandal of my life. I didn't deserve delicious. "And coffee, black."

"We'll also have two black coffees, two cinnamon sugar vanilla donuts, and—" she shot me a look that reeked of disappointment. "A spinach egg white wrap."

We pulled forward, and the drive-thru attendant pushed a tray of coffees and white baker bags at Lisa. The scent. That glorious warm, yeasty, sugar scent filled me with a sharp pang of regret.

I needed to get a hold of myself when a bag of donuts made me start regretting my life choices.

Lisa doled out the coffees and tossed Alison her bag.

"Here," she said.

Lisa had a donut wrapped neatly in a napkin.

"No, I ordered the wrap," I insisted. Was she hard of hearing?

"And you'll have your wrap after you eat your sugar like a good girl."

Alison snorted from the back seat. "I really like this guy, boss," she said with her mouth full.

"Come on, Jennie," Lisa said, waving the donut in front of my face. My eyes ticked and tocked, following the pastry's path. "You know you want me."

I snatched it out of her hand just as the car behind us honked.

"Here's for us and for whoever's next in line," Lisa said to the cashier handing her two crisp twenties.

The cashier bobbled the cash, probably blinded by her obnoxious good looks. I soothed myself with a tiny bite of cinnamon and sugar.

"Mmmm." There was nothing subtle about my vocal reaction to hot sugar exploding in my mouth.

"I quite like that sound," Lisa said as she pulled out of the parking lot.

"Shut up," I said and took a bigger bite.

"Now that we're properly fueled," she said, "let's talk about your entrance to work this morning."

"Get out of car. Walk into building," I said, spraying crumbs all over the man's dashboard.

She handed me another napkin. "That was yesterday. You didn't smile or wave or answer any questions. You pulled up like Grace Kelly and let security whisk you inside."

"And how does your vision differ?" I asked, losing the appropriate level of snark as it filtered through donut. I wondered if board meetings would be more pleasant if I provided pastries.

"We're going to get out, laughing and smiling like we haven't any cares in the world. You're going to hold that donut just as you're doing now. And you're going to smile at those photographers like they're your best friends."

"Why would I do that? That's just going to encourage them to ask questions."

"That's why I'm here."

"What if they ask about you? I'm supposed to say, 'Oh, my board hired a breaking and entering babysitter for me to make sure I don't ruin a multi-billion-dollar empire'?"

"Well, let's hope there's something that rolls off the tongue a little more naturally. Should you start to spiral in that direction, I'll step in and handle it," Lisa said smugly.

I hated people "handling" things for me and had the distinct impression that she'd guessed that.

"I don't want to stand around on the sidewalk answering questions about cocaine and bad dates. I want to go inside and do my fucking job."

It was almost laughable that everything I'd worked so hard for was hanging in the balance. One tiny misstep, and I could lose everything.

"Just remember, you need the people out here with their cameras," she said, rolling to a stop in front of my office building.

I scoffed. "Yeah, right."

"You want something from them. You want their absolution. Their support. Their favor. You want them skipping out to buy shares of Flawless when it goes public because they like you, they believe in you."

My expression told her in no uncertain terms what she and the rest of the people on the sidewalk could go do.

"Try to be slightly human," she suggested.

Alison snorted. "Good luck with that."

"Hey!"

"Sorry, boss," she said, clearly not remotely apologetic.

Lisa leaned over me for the door handle. "Now, hold your donut up, darling, and smile."