Sealed with a Kiss, Leeanna Morgan [black authors fiction .txt] 📗

Ryan sat in his truck and watched the people on the sidewalk. Downtown Bozeman wasn’t exactly the center of the universe, but it was as close as he’d gotten in a long time. For the last four months he’d been building his dream house beside Emerald Lake and hiding from a past he wasn’t proud of.

But that was all about to change. In ten minutes he’d be meeting his publicist, strategizing about the best way to deal with his crazy ex-wife and the media frenzy that was about to hit town.

Dorothy Patterson was nothing if not punctual. She strode along the sidewalk like the leader of a marching band; back straight, head high, and with the kind of serious expression that didn’t bode well for a good meeting.

She’d made the journey from Nashville to Montana in record time. She had as much to lose as he did. If his ex-wife’s photos hit any of the publications she was threatening to use, they’d both be going down in flames.

He got out of his truck, shut the door, and prepared for one of the most important discussions of his life. By the time he made it inside Angel Wings Café, Dorothy had already found a table at the back of the room.

“You’re late,” she said with a forced smile. Dorothy looked like butter wouldn’t melt in her mouth but underneath the girl next door veneer, there was a woman with a heart of steel.

“I’ve been waiting in my truck. Have you spoken to her?”

“The only person Cindy is talking to is her lawyer. He called me four hours ago and told me her terms and conditions haven’t changed. She wants half of the royalties from the song you wrote when you were married. If you don’t pay her, she’s going to release the photos. Sit down. I’ve ordered coffee.”

Ryan wasn’t surprised to hear that his ex-wife hadn’t changed her mind. The only thing consistent about Cindy was that when she made up her mind she never changed it. “She’s not getting any royalties from the song. My lawyer has already spoken to her lawyer. There’s no way a judge will give her what she wants.”

Dorothy smiled at the waitress as she left their drinks on the table. She leaned forward, her blue eyes boring into his. “You can’t afford to let her release those photos. They’ll kill your career.”

“I divorced Cindy six years ago. She took half of what I owned then. There’s no way she’s going to get more money. If you can’t speak to Cindy, tell her lawyer that she won’t see another dime from me.”

Dorothy pulled a folder out of her bag. “I thought you’d say something like that. I’ve been working on a plan to salvage what we can of your reputation. Are you sure she hasn’t got more photos?”

“She sent me copies of all of them. They’re so out of focus that she’ll be lucky if anyone believes her.”

“It doesn’t matter what they believe. What matters is that they’ll be available for everyone to see. If Cindy can’t get her hands on the money she thinks is hers, she’ll take what she can. If that means destroying you in the process, she’ll do it.”

“She’s not that calculating.”

“I wouldn’t bet on it.” Dorothy turned the folder around and opened the cover. “Tell me what you think.”

Ryan started to read the document in front of him but didn’t get very far. Dorothy’s suggestions for combating his ex-wife’s demands were almost as bad as releasing the photos. “What do you mean, sing for a charity? I’m living in the middle of Montana, being hounded by my ex-wife, and you want me to give a charity concert?”

“I don’t care how you do it or where you do it, but you need to start generating some positive publicity. Hiding in Bozeman will only fuel speculation that you’re guilty and the photos are genuine.”

It was Ryan’s turn to lean forward. “They are true. I’d had too much to drink. I was twenty-one years old, and we’d been married for less than a year. I learned my lesson.”