Chapter 7: The Truth About Caleb Foster

I was stunned. “What did you do this time?”

He grabbed me, deadly serious: “You did it. After you got whisked away last night, I had someone check him out. This time you’re in deep trouble.”

Jamie scolded me: “Do you even know who you slept with?”

Getting lectured by the notorious Jamie Brooks? That’s a first.

I answered bluntly: “Caleb Foster. My boss.”

He clapped his hands: “You really think he’s just the CEO of some listed company? I’ve played all over New York and LA—never heard of Caleb Foster. Know why?”

“Because he’s not in your circle?”

Jamie shook his head, all mysterious: “The Foster family. THE Foster family. They’ve been low-key and reclusive since my great-grandpa’s day. Their business is everywhere. They don’t even need to work. You just slept with their only son.”

So what? It was consensual.

Jamie gave me another look, disappointed. “He came to California to find his fiancée. Her family’s in the defense industry, with all kinds of ties to the mob here. Adults fooling around is one thing, but Rachel, if this blows up, what are you going to tell his fiancée’s family? The Foster family would never marry into a little family like ours. If Caleb was just having fun, what will you do? With a snap of their fingers, you and I could vanish. We’re nobodies. I thought something was off last night—he was so striking, but I’d never heard of him.”

Jamie looked genuinely freaked out.

“Defense industry? What, are they gonna have me disappeared like in some Netflix true crime doc?” My voice trembled.

No way. Did I mess with the actual Godfather?

My face went pale. Jamie saw I wasn’t convinced, so he pulled up a photo on his phone. In a lavish banquet hall, Caleb stood beside a delicate, ethereal girl. They were arm in arm, chatting and laughing with business and political elites.

So Caleb lied about his fiancée running away. Turns out he came to California to chase after her.

Jamie cursed: “Damn, even scummier than me! Rachel, you really stepped in it this time. Next time, I’ll help you get revenge!”

Angry and humiliated, I suddenly felt tears well up. That feeling of being played, but unable to call the cops. Wiping my tears, I threw on a sweatshirt and jeans. Left a pile of cash on the bed. On a note to Caleb: “Bad morning, bad afternoon, bad night. Caleb, no wonder they say men over twenty-five are useless—you’re really just average. Take the money, buy yourself some vitamins, and try to keep up. P.S. Next time, try Gatorade and a sense of humor.”

Jamie gave me a thumbs up. “Respect, girl. If you dare to play, you gotta dare to lose!”

The carpet muffled my footsteps, but my heart was pounding like a subway train at rush hour. Jamie was right behind me, his duffel slung over one shoulder, eyes darting like we were in an Ocean’s Eleven remake. I shot one last glance at the king-sized bed—evidence of a night I’d rather forget. The city outside was waking up, but I felt like crawling back under the covers and disappearing for a year.