Free Suspiciously Obedient by Julia Kent Page A

me with this idea?” Her eyes were half-lidded, the idea of fame obviously loosening her up. “What’s in it for you, Jeremy?”
    “Me? I just had an idea.”
    “What’s your idea going to cost me?” she asked, leaning forward, trailing her index finger along the skin of his forearm. His pants tightened involuntarily and he barely suppressed a cringe, reminding himself that it was an involuntary reflex and not an indictment. This he had not expected. He and Mike may very well share women here and there, but it was always at the same time. Not like this. And not this one .
    “Consider it a freebie,” he said, pulling back. “I just saw an opportunity to help a number of friends out.”
    “Nobody does things just because or to be nice,” she said, a condescending look on her face. “That’s so 1950s.”
    “I’m a throwback.”
    “You’re up to something.” She sat back and crossed her arms over those gorgeous, cosmetically enhanced breasts. “What’s this going to cost me?”
    “Your time,” he said, smiling. “Because once you claim that that’s you, you’re going to be hounded for months, if not years. You’re going to gets requests from The Today Show, from CNN—hell, you might get an exclusive with Barbara Walters. And even if Mike decides to be a monk and hide in the hills forever, you won’t be able to do that. Instant celebrity. You will be able to name your price.”
    Diane frowned, rolling her eyes. “No, not name my price. I don’t need money; my family has more than enough of it.”
    “Then name your time slot and your channel,” he said, finishing off his meal, starting in on his coffee.
    “So, Mike fills my slot and I get a new one.” She laughed.
    Now he had her. The hook was in and he was slowly cranking the reel. “Diane, you’re going to be the woman all over every website, every newspaper, every magazine. But you better hurry, because time is fading.”
    “You’re right,” she said, grabbed her phone. “Where do I start?”
    He knew the answer to that and then in unison they both said, “TMZ!” She began texting furiously and Jeremy called for the check. Best thirty bucks he ever spent in his life.

    She wasn't answering any of his phone calls, texts, or emails. Mike brooded, staring at the television, while Jeremy mocked him mercilessly as he skittered through a hundred different cable channels, catching each as it had a segment on the video.
    “She’s hot, man. Oooh, I like how the hands there go toward here—”
    “I'll kill you if you say one more word.”
    “But—”
    “Dead. You’re dead.” Mike threw the first thing he could find—Jeremy's abandoned phone—at him, hitting right on at the temple.
    “Ouch!” Rubbing his head, Jeremy laughed. “Bad sport.”
    “This isn't a game.”
    Tap tap tap. Using the phone, Jeremy pulled up something on his screen. The sound of voices, muted. “It's playing on YouTube—nine different uploads. The most popular hit 900,000 views already.”
    “Fuck me.”
    “Someone already did.” Jeremy's palms flew up in a gesture of supplication as Mike damn near charged him. Rage raced through his bulging veins, arms itching to hurt something. Someone.
    Jonah.
    The asshole had done it. Intern his ass. Honor among weasels; he wondered how much Jonah'd been paid for that clip.
    “Sources say the dark-haired beauty riding Michael Bournham's pole remains a mystery—” Click. Jeremy moved on to some Oprah channel, paused three seconds, and moved on. The rotation made Mike sick. Too many channels were running one particular ten-second snippet of the video of him and Lydia, a moment when he thrust up into her and she tipped her head to the right, the gesture so sexual and intimate it made him hard just thinking about it.
    “Thank God you didn't say her name,” Jeremy commented. “Or that her face is never on camera.” He seemed to think something over, then added, with a low whistle, “That is one hell of a nice ass,