He's the man of her dreams and her boss. But someone else is dreaming about her, someone more dangerous…
On the Friday I would test drive the DCI software for the first time, we went to lunch at Harvey’s. Bob leaned forward, his voice low. “I have to tell you guys this,” he said.
“What’s up?” Matta asked, running her manicured nails through the loops of her unruly hair in a halfhearted attempt to tame some strands. “Tell mama,” she said to Bob, but he didn’t laugh.
“Okay, I hate to be the one that breaks it to you, but Mr. Charlton Hamm is a phony,” he said. Matta and I leaned in simultaneously. “He’s a fake. An impostor.”
Bob sat back and frowned, then shrugged. The color had drained out of his face and his scalp was less rosy. “I kind of bumped into the facts about him when I was fiddling around online last night. If you look up old photos from his college years when he played varsity lacrosse at Yale, you can see what I’m saying. It’s a totally different guy. Not our Hamm, some other tall blonde kid who only looks like him.”
Bob paused and licked his thick lips.
“And if you dig for them, you can find photos of him at Mar-a-Lago, some high-fly dinner Trump hosted years ago. The photo caption says Charlton Hamm, but it’s somebody else. I mean, the guy from Yale is standing there in a tux with his arm around a busty blonde dish. The caption says she’s Mrs. Charlton Hamm.”
“I didn’t know he was married,” I blurted.
I tried to remain calm, but inside I was shrieking. He doesn’t wear a wedding ring. There’s no photos of a wife in his office. Plus, he’s sleeping with me.
In my dreams, that is. But still.
Matta snickered. “All Adrianna cares about is the man’s marital status.”
That wasn’t completely true.