Noah knows full well it was the other way around.
“No. Jazzy was faithful. Or at least I think she was. I guess I’ll never know.”
“That’s nice to hear that you think she was,” I say. “It speaks highly of her character.”
Lil’ Mama barks. “That’s because she was one. Her father would always say, ‘Jazzy, you’re quite the character. One day you’re going to drive a man insane.’”
“The woman made me crazy,” Slater confesses. “But I loved her like mad.”
“Whose idea was Money on the Med?” I ask as my fingers find their way in a bowl of pretzels. I’ve yet to see too much of the show, but both Carlotta and Evie have done nothing but rave about it since the tragic incident.
“It was a joint effort. Something that Jazzy and I thought up one night over dinner. Back in the good days.” He looks forlorn for a moment as if he genuinely misses those good days.
Everett pulls his beer close. “Did Jasmine help with the record label?”
“She helped enough to stir the pot, if that’s what you mean.” Slater shakes his head as if reliving a bad memory now, too. “Let’s just say Jazzy had to get her way on and off the playing field.” He winks my way. “That would be the bedroom. She was ruthless. And in the boardroom, she was just as ruthless, if not more. I had a handful of moneymaking clients, and she wanted to give them all a personality makeover. They didn’t go for that. And the funny thing is, Jazzy didn’t bat a lash when they left. And now I’ve got nothing. I don’t know where she thinks my money came from, but she was poisoning the water at the bottom of the well whether she knew it or not. And I’m betting she did.”
“I’m sorry,” Noah says. “That’s got to be tough watching someone destroy what you built. I bet that’s when you realized you wanted to step back from the relationship.”
Lil’ Mama grunts, “You mean cheat on her.”
“You mean cheat on her,” I echo without meaning to as another contraction threatens to squeeze this little sugar cookie right out of me.
“Lot.” Noah shoots me a look and I can’t tell if he’s acting or not.
“No, it’s okay.” Slater takes a nip from the new shot glass the bartender just slid him. “I did it. Everyone knew, and when Jazzy found out, she was furious. I can’t blame her. I should have gone for someone a little more discreet than her best friend.”
“As in Stassi?” My eyes bulge at the thought. Stassi looked me right in the face as she denied it. And oddly, she seemed just as believable as he does right about now.
“Yup.” He takes another sip.
“Deplorable,” Lil’ Mama growls. “I can’t stand both of them. Dump some liquid in her face, too, when you see her. And don’t think I’m letting you get away with leaving this one high and dry. We’ll take care of him yet, Lottie Lemon.”
I might just take her up on that. I don’t like being lied to even if she was covering her tracks. But was she a killer covering her tracks? That is the question.
Everett winces. “Stassi has outright denied it. I guess you can’t blame her. Is that what you told her to do?”
“I had to. It was bad enough it was happening, that it had been happening. And as much as we tried to deny it, it was our word against Jazzy’s. The world didn’t seem to care, though. Stassi was being harassed, death threats, the whole nine yards, and the next thing we knew the show was canceled.” His brows hike. “Without me and the show, Jazzy knew her days were numbered. That’s why she flew into the food business with Ariella. She was hitting rock bottom financially and she needed a sure thing. But it wasn’t a sure thing for either of them.”
“Ariella went into the food business? You mean the rebranding business.”
Ariella specifically said she was rebranding and coaching Jasmine. Door-to-Door Gourmet was no more. Ariella said that the business was as dead as Jazzy.
He nods. “Yup. She went into the food business.” He purses his lips as he considers this. “You know, I probably should have gone for Ariella instead of Stassi.”
“But she’s married,” I point out. “Or at least she was.”
His chest pumps. “I don’t think I’d let that little detail stop me.” He gives a sly wink to Noah. “We’ve got that in common, don’t we, buddy?” He knocks back his drink, and as he does, Lil’ Mama jumps over and bumps my hand against Noah’s beer and sends it sailing right into Slater Sutton’s lap.
Lil’ Mama chortles. “It’s not his face, but it will do in a pinch.”
“Oh my goodness!” I throw my hands over my mouth.
“It’s okay.” He shoots me a sharp look as if it was anything but.
He says goodnight and disappears while the three of us are left to process things.
I look over to Everett, but he seems to be fixated on something or someone in the corner, and I follow his gaze in that direction to see Manny Moretti talking to a couple of men. And it looks as if he’s watching Manny specifically. He’s glaring at him. I’m sure he could cast a little of the blame regarding the dark hole his life has become on the Morettis since it was their family drama that kicked off ours. If they hadn’t been threatening a turf war, none of this would have happened.
Carlotta and Meg track me down and scoop me out of my seat, landing me in the middle of the dance floor just as one song dies down and the next begins. And at the sound of the first few notes, the crowd explodes in cheers. Soon, an entire sea of white linen napkins begins to twirl as the live band plays a stunning
