Page 37 of Sugar (Gilded #1)

Short of spotting him at the Gilded auction—where I’d been too preoccupied to say hello—I’d barely seen my friend.

He’d been just as busy, wrapped up in the media circuit for an upcoming movie.

It sounded like hell to me, but that was his happy place.

And since the romantic thriller was a big step outside of his usual action or comedic roles, he would undoubtedly be loving that added attention.

My money is on him fucking the wrong reporter.

With a side bet that it was on camera.

It was a good thing that I didn’t say it out loud because I would’ve lost the wager, and June would’ve made me pay up.

“In typical Tripp fashion,” she said, “he partied too hardy. Pictures of him with women and white powder are top of the trending list right now.”

Fucking Tripp.

I tossed my glasses onto the desk and pinched the bridge of my nose. “And I’m guessing said pictures do not take place in a kitchen.”

I couldn’t see June’s face with my eyes closed, but I heard her confusion. “A kitchen?”

“That way his spokesperson could say that it was cream of tartar for the egg whites he was whipping.”

“You missed your calling as a defense attorney with your knack for reasonable doubt. But nope. No meringue defense in the nightclub. And that’s not the worst of it.”

My lids shot open. “What else?”

“When Tripp saw the dickhead taking pictures, he stood at the same time as one of his companions. She toppled on her heels. He reached for her and missed. One blurry and unfortunately timed photo later, it looks like he shoved her. And that’s how that fucker sold it.”

Oh shit.

“To the woman’s credit, she’s using her two minutes of fame to come to Tripp’s defense.”

“Only two minutes of it? What happened to fifteen?”

June broadly gestured around. “In this day and age? Anyway, she made some posts and went on live last night.”

“She got onto a show already?” I asked, wondering which live news program got the breaking story since that would give me an idea of how they were spinning it.

“She went live on social media,” June said, giving me a look that said I was an old, out of touch fucker—and she wasn’t wrong.

Despite being more than a decade older, June was usually the one to explain current trends to me.

“She insists Tripp was just hanging out. Coke wasn’t theirs.

He’s so nice. The photographer was the instigator.

Blah, blah, blah. The typical when it comes to Tripp’s woman du jour. ”

Tripp might’ve been a pain in the ass, but he wasn’t a dick. Like old Hollywood playboys, his antics came across as charming and endearing.

Usually.

“When you left on Saturday and then were a no-show yesterday, I figured he’d already called you,” June said.

I was surprised he hadn’t. I might not be his agent or PR rep, but I’d still put out a lot of fires for Tripp. More than that, we were friends.

“Reach out to his agent, see what they know,” I told June.

“On it.” She started out into the hall before walking backward. Leaning into the doorway, she said, “So about that aquarium…”

“Yes.”

She pushed her luck. “What about a different animal? Lots of businesses have fish. We could be the ones with a hamster mascot.”

“I don’t want my firm synonymous with rodents.”

“What about?—”

“Don’t push your luck. Take the win before the plea deal is off the table.”

“Right.”

As she left, I tried calling Tripp, but there was no answer. It wasn’t a surprise. He never woke up before mid-afternoon. I left him a message, but it was a crapshoot if he would listen to it.

I scrolled the fucking mountain of emails to make sure I hadn’t missed anything else urgent before opening Matt’s notes. I was halfway through when June returned.

“No rabbits, either,” I said without looking away from the monitor.

“Of course not, they’re evil. I just got off the phone with Hullywod.”

At June’s tone, I gave her my full attention.

Hullywod—a reference to the Hollywood sign’s dilapidation in the 70s—was technically considered a boutique talent agency, but it was far from small. Their team represented some major names. If they dropped him, he would bounce back easily with a new agency.

But his ego wouldn’t like the hit.

“They’re fine,” June rushed out. “This is a nothingburger to them. Not even a bump in the road—coke pun intended. But Intrepid Studio is another matter. They want him to sit out the Old Flame premiere so it doesn’t draw focus away from the film.”

Oh fuck.

I gave her an incredulous look. “The premiere that’s this Friday? And is his favorite part of this bullshit? The one that he’s been especially anticipating because he poured his soul into the fucking film?”

“Yes, that one.”

I grabbed my phone. “I’ll deal with it.”

“Good luck,” she muttered as she left.

I put a call into Hullywod, then tried Tripp again. If his agency couldn’t help, I would call Intrepid myself. I hadn’t negotiated the contract, but I was sure I could throw around enough legalese to get them to back off.

In the meantime, I also needed to reach out to Cohen and Atlas to let them know that he might be in a mood and to be on watch if he came into Gilded.

And talk to Adriana Davies about her case and my dearly, long-departed grandmother.

And try not to let my obsession with Maddie implode the business I’d worked hard for.

I already knew it was the last one that would be the most difficult.