"Christ, Lyle, what do you think? I don't know what goes on in your head, or why you hire escorts, and I don't really want to know. I figure you have your reasons, and I'm fine with that. No judgment here--I'm not that big of a hypocrite.
"But you don't date," she continued. "You don't repeat--at least not before Laine. And all of that adds up to one big screaming red flag called issues."
"Your point?"
"That I don't give a fuck what your issues are. I like you, okay, and I hope you work through them. But whether you do or don't really isn't my problem."
He stood tense and silent, hating feeling exposed, but waiting it out because he needed to know what she was getting to, since it obviously had to do with Sugar.
"There's one thing Greg and I agree on completely," Joy said. "If you hurt her, I will take you down. Slowly, painfully, and as publicly as I can. And screw the NDA. As far as I'm concerned, it's no more important than a grocery receipt if you hurt my friend."
"I meant what I said. I'm not going to hurt her."
She searched his face, holding his eyes for longer than was comfortable. Then she nodded. "All right then. We're cool." She flashed a smile as bright as the afternoon sun. "Enjoy the rest of your Sunday."
"Wait," he called as she started to turn away. "Do you know when and where she's working tomorrow?"
"No. Why?"
"Can you find out?"
She crossed her arms over her chest. "Probably. You want to tell me why I should?"
He took a step toward her. "It's just that I need a little favor..."
* * *
Lyle was up before the sun on Monday, which meant that Natasha was as well.
"Can I just turn in my resignation?" she asked, her voice sleepy over the phone. "Because it's barely past six, and I think this constitutes unreasonable work conditions."
"I need you to reschedule everything I have for today and tomorrow."
"Um, okay." There was a shuffling, and he assumed she was sitting up in bed. "Why?"
"Something's come up."
"Something named Sugar Laine?"
"Nat..."
"Hey. Fine. And no, I'm not going to ask why you're suddenly engaged to a girl who I, as your personal assistant, didn't even know you were seeing until you introduced her at Wyatt's opening."
"You heard."
"Everyone heard. Well, except people who never get on the Internet, and I'm pretty sure that breed doesn't live in Southern California."
"Good point, and yes. We have plans. So I need you to clear my schedule."
He waited for her to say more. To ask about their relationship, about how long they'd been together, about why she'd never arranged details for any other date.
But all she said was, "No problem."
And that, he thought, was why she was such a good assistant. "I need you to do a few other things as well. Some reservations I need you to make first thing, and then there's a pile of paperwork on my desk for you to go through and a few calls you need to return. You have your pad?" Natasha never went anywhere without her red portfolio, and Lyle assumed she kept it on her nightstand when she slept.
"Of course. Go ahead."
He ran her through the list, she promised to handle it all, and he hung up feeling that everything was on track.