How do you say, “No” to a billionaire? Especially one who, according to Trend, the nation’s best-selling glossy celebrity magazine, is extremely generous to his paramours and who, when the heat is over and the cool has set in and platonic friendship muscles out the intimate relationship, remains loyal in all matters including that of financial support.
It was an answer to that question that I desperately needed when Sandy Morris called me from downtown LA about the invitation.
“You gotta do it, Honey, a real career-kicker if there ever was one,” he urged. “Imagine front page pics of you and Rocky Robertson out on the town; maybe in Cannes. Monaco, even. There’s mileage there, Honey, mileage. Can’t buy that sort of publicity for love or money, nowadays. This’ll really get you up the ladder.”
What about Brad, I wondered, sweet trusting Brad, childhood sweetheart and always in the wings, forgiving of all my transgressions and hopeful of sex with me some day? What about morals? Ethics?
But needs, career, and Sandy Morris must, and so I said, “Yes,” and had no misgivings until, too late, I saw the name of his glossy celebrity yacht – Trend 1.
This for this week’s Sunday Photo Fiction 200 word challenge.
patrickprinsloo 
Oops. Wrong move there. Well done, Patrick. 🙂 — Suzanne
Wrong indeed. Thanks for reading.
I feel sorry for Brad. The nice guys always end up waiting in the wings. And then there’s always the complaints about the lack of nice guys. Tsk tsk.
Yes, let’s hear it for Brad!
Ouch! Definitely too late on that one.
Indeed.
Hmmm, didn’t someone say something about believing your own press? Well done!
Too true. The man’s a cad!