Boots
She should be riding high. But success shouldn’t feel like this. Back in her office, laying out plans for the NDA Gala, Alan had lit up. Troy couldn’t nod fast enough. Her pitch landed, clean and commanding. It should’ve been a clear win. And it was—until Wendy showed up.
Their one-on-one afterward was brief, but Boots couldn’t shake how Wendy managed to undermine her without even raising her voice. A few well-placed compliments about her outfit. A passive suggestion that she wasn’t a team player. Then that “circle jerk” line, tossed off with a smile, like it was nothing. It wasn’t.
Boots has worked with worse than Wendy Deerwood. Hell, I might even be worse. But Wendy isn’t just a colleague. She’s her agent. And if Boots can’t trust her to move in step, then this isn’t a partnership.
By the time she reaches Leah’s office, she’s still not sure why she’s here. But her hand is already knocking.
“Let me call you back,” Leah says, standing as she hangs up the phone. She offers a polite smile. “To what do I owe the honor?”
Boots pauses, as if deciding how much to reveal. “This might sound a little out of left field,” she says, easing into the seat across from Leah, “but I’ve been helping Wendy with a client in the nonfiction lifestyle space, and I wanted your take on how things are landing right now.”
“Helping with one of Wendy’s clients?”
“Technically, yes,” Boots says with a slow nod.
Leah watches her, trying to read the angle. “If it’s Wendy’s client, why not ask Wendy?”
“Okay. It’s me.” Boots allows the faintest smile. “I’m the client.”
Leah sits up, perking up too.
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“Wendy’s shopping my proposal,” Boots goes on. “It’s not public yet. Alan doesn’t know. So I need this to stay between us.”
Leah betrays the faintest smile. Two women wired for dominance, circling the same ambition? The fallout isn’t just inevitable—it’s already written.
“And what’s the book about?” she asks.
“A look behind the curtain at elite events. The secrets of how to pull them off, told by me, LA’s top event architect. With some behind-the-scenes scandal and gossip thrown in, of course.”
Un-fuckin-believable. Boots should’ve known better than to hand her book to Wendy, someone whose outsider instincts will never fully grasp the world Boots is writing about. This tier—old-guard access, legacy power, rooms curated by birthright—wasn’t made for people like Wendy. Beneath the new-money gloss, the tacky labels and hard-earned polish, she’s still the fishmonger’s daughter. No matter the tailoring, she carries the scent of someone who had to buy her way in. Leah, meanwhile, knew the codes before she could talk.
“Well, the market’s brutal,” she says, easing back in her chair. “You need a hook. A voice. A platform. The holy trinity.”
“And if I’m not there yet?”
“Then you manufacture it. Social media’s non-negotiable. No offense, but if you want to break past your coastal LA bubble, people need to know who you are. Readers need to care who you are.”
“I’m terrible at social media.” Boots lets out a breath, like it’s an ongoing joke. “Total Achilles’ heel.”
“Lucky for you, I’ve got a new client who’s brilliant at it.” Not true. Yet. “Darin Rossellini. You’ve heard of him?”
“The culty vitamin guy with the healing crystals and linen pants?”
Leah flashes a quick, satisfied grin. “Exactly. Say what you want, he built an empire off juice cleanses and a ring light. People literally line up to believe whatever he’s selling, if they haven’t already bought it from TikTok Shop.”
“You think he’d work with me?” Boots asks, doubtful.
“I think he’d work with anyone ready to manifest something he believes in.”
Wendy would lose it if she found out Boots was consulting with Leah on the side. She’d call it betrayal, a breach of trust. But Boots isn’t even sure what trust means anymore—not after this morning. Not after that snide dig.
And there’s nothing wrong with getting a second opinion. Especially from someone like Leah, born into the world of glittering wealth that Boots spends her life orchestrating. Leah understands the language of access, the choreography of prestige. Wendy? Wendy weaponizes it, but never quite belongs to it.
“It’s an intriguing proposition,” Boots says as she turns for the door. “I’ll think about it.”