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What must it be like to have a powerful father who cared enough about you to take time from his busy schedule to come to your play? And the little brat appreciated nothing. “Of course.”
“Did you make reservations at Catch for Tanaka and his team tomorrow?”
“Actually, no.”
His head snapped up. She had his full attention. “What?”
“I made them at Del Posto. Tanaka loves Italian, and he’s allergic to shellfish.”
He looked at her with interest. “Really? How do you know that?”
She handed him her report. “I took the liberty of doing some research. On my own time, of course,” she added quickly. “I thought it would be helpful. With social media it’s not that hard to find things out.”
He smiled widely, giving her a glimpse of his perfect teeth, and reached out for the report. After thumbing through it, he looked up again. “Amber, I’m very impressed. Great initiative. This is fantastic.”
She beamed. She bet Battley didn’t even know how to use Facebook.
She stood up. “If there’s nothing else, I’ll go take care of sorting your appointments.”
“Thanks,” he mumbled, immersed in the report again.
She was making progress with him, although she was a little disappointed that he didn’t seem to notice how good her legs looked in the short skirt and high heels she’d worn that day. He was that rare commodity—a man who only had eyes for his wife. Daphne, on the other hand, seemed complacent, like she took it for granted that he worshipped her. It irritated Amber. It was obvious to her that Daphne wasn’t as passionate about Jackson as he was about her, and that she really didn’t deserve him.
She opened up Jackson’s calendar on her computer and began contacting his afternoon appointments to reschedule. As she was about to make another call, he appeared.
“Amber, why don’t you sit in Mrs. Battley’s office until we find her replacement? It’ll be more convenient to have you right outside. Give Facilities a call; they can move your things.”
“Thank you, I will.”
She watched him as he strode away, his Brioni suit looking as though it had been hand-crafted by the gods. She wondered what it would be like to wear a garment that cost more than some people made in a year.
She picked up her phone and texted Daphne.
Are you free tomorrow? Would love to meet for a drink.
Her text tone sounded.Sure. I’ll have Tommy pick you up and we can go to Sparta’s. Seven thirty good?
Great! See you tomorrow.
If Daphne was having Tommy drive them, it meant she was in the mood to drink, which was perfect because Amber was ready to get her to spill her guts. She had discovered that after one martini Daphne became much more relaxed, making it easy to pour a few more down her throat.
Twenty-One
The Parrish Town Car was waiting outside her apartment right on time. She was about to call out a hello to Daphne when she realized the backseat was empty.
“Where’s Mrs. Parrish?” she asked Tommy as he opened the door for her.
“Mr. Parrish came home unexpectedly. She asked me to collect you and drop you at Sparta’s, then swing around for her.”
She felt annoyance choke out her good mood. Why hadn’t Daphne just called and asked if they could move the time back? She felt like an appointment being handled. And why should it matter that Jackson came home? Why didn’t Daphne just tell him she already had plans? Where was her backbone?
When she got to the bar, she chose a cozy table in the corner and ordered the 2007 Sassicaia. It was $210, but Daphne would be picking up the bill, and it served her right for making Amber wait. She took a sip of the red delight and savored the opulent flavor. It was amazing.
She looked around as the lounge began to fill and wondered if any of Daphne’s so-called friends would be coming in tonight. She hoped not—she wanted Daphne all to herself.
Daphne finally arrived, looking harried and, frankly, a little unkempt. Her hair was a bit frizzy and her makeup splotchy.
“I’m sorry, Amber. Just as I was leaving, Jackson came in, and...” She threw her hands up. “Not even worth getting into. I need a drink.” She glanced at the bottle, and a little frown furrowed her brow.