“I’m sorry.”
JAKE
Emily’s
dinner is tonight, and since I couldn’t leave the office until seven-thirty, I
didn’t have much time to prepare. She made it clear it was a barbecue and I
didn’t need to dress up, so I opted for jeans and a ponytail. No makeup except
for a touch of mascara. The idea of a girls’ night delights me, and I may
have the opportunity to discuss with the best way to counter Jake and his plan
of bringing me on the show.
She
lives in a house north of the city, and although this sector isn’t the most expensive,
it’s lined with beautiful properties with manicured gardens. Looking around, I
see her personal touch all over—swings in a corner, unstructured flower beds
that provide a welcoming air, comfortable seating on the veranda, and trees
that hide the neighbor
