Wendy
It went off clean. Carina sparkled, calling her the “best agent ever.” The influencers, the brands, the content-obsessed all got their dopamine drip. Boots nailed her first big win, thanks entirely to Wendy, not that anyone said it out loud.
And Wendy? She won, too. Even the Daphne debacle turned out better than expected. Honestly, it might’ve been the highlight—watching that homewrecking, bleach-blonde brat get dragged out like a deranged Karen in couture. She could get used to having a security detail for scenes like that. Flawless. All of it.
So why is she still watching Leah? Making Leah squirm should’ve been enough. But it wasn’t. Now, she can’t look away. Leah and Shane by the exit, laughing at something. Probably one of his sad little dad jokes.
Wendy’s already moving, cutting across the rooftop. “Didn’t expect to see you here, Shane,” she says, giving him a once-over as she rolls up.
“Leah invited me,” he replies, barely glancing her way.
“Oh, did she? Leah invited you to crash my event?”
Leah almost fires back, but a voice cuts in from behind: “We leaving?”
Wendy turns, and there she is—the girl in the bomber jacket. Daphne’s plus-one, now standing squarely at Leah’s side.
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“And you,” Wendy snaps. “Don’t ever show your face at one of my events again.”
Tina tilts her head, unimpressed, like Wendy’s not even worth the breath. “Nice to meet you, too.”
“This one yours, too?” Wendy asks, her gaze sliding back to Leah.
“She came with Daphne.”
“Then why’s she leaving with you?”
“Because I’m her roommate, bitch.”
Wendy laughs softly, amusement curling beneath contempt. “Ah, yes. The roommate.” Her eyes dart back to Tina, glaring now. “Feisty, aren’t you?”
Tina meets her stare, unflinching. “You have no idea, ma’am.”
“Did you just call me ma’am? You know you’re a walking lease violation, sweetheart.”
“Shut up, Wendy,” Leah cuts in, grabbing Tina’s arm. “C’mon. We’re going.”
“Great idea. Take Single Dumb Female with you. Save me from calling security a second time. Sorry we didn’t get more time to catch up, Shane. Maybe next time you’ll feel brave enough to sit at the grown-ups’ table?”
“Bye, Wendy.” Shane lets out a dry chuckle, barely humoring her. “Glad to see you’re still the same piece of work.”
“Thanks for the compliment. I’m not easy like Leah, that’s for sure.” Wendy’s lip curls, an almost involuntary snarl. “What are you even doing with her? Did I really break your heart that bad, or is this some delayed midlife crisis?”
“Leah and I are just friends. I know the meaning of that word eludes you.”
“Friends? Really? Now that’s rich. She’s using you, Shane. To get under my skin.”
“God, you’re such a narcissist.”
“I probably am. Doesn’t make me wrong.”
Her eyes narrow, sweeping over him. The mouth, the jaw, the chest, the abs she can practically feel beneath the cling of his shirt. She could reach for him. Just one move. Maybe just one kiss—
“Just so you know,” he shoots back, restrained but scathing, “narcissism’s a real disorder. Might want to get that checked.” He steps back, flashing that infuriating smile, blue eyes sharp with amusement. “Anyway, thanks for letting me crash.”