Savior

Three: Mia

"He was supposed be here forty-five minutes ago," I sighed into the phone, pushing my honey-streaked dark locks off my face, "and he's not answering his phone."

Jazz sighed. "What is he supposed to be doing?"

"We're supposed to be going to the Childrens' Hospital."

"Oh damn. He's standing up sick kids?"

"I hadn't told him what we were doing yet, but I somehow doubt it would make a difference," I sighed heavily.

I'd been representing Wes for a little over two weeks now. He'd done a few interviews, a couple television appearances, all to try and change the world's perception of him. However, most of the time, Wes's mouth couldn't help but get him into trouble. He wasn't rude, he wasn't mean. He was goofy and aloof. No one could get a serious answer out of him no matter how hard I tried to convince him to cooperate. He just ended up looking like a joke and it was frustrating that I couldn't get him to see it. I guess at least he hadn't gotten arrested or into a bar fight on my watch... yet.

"What're you gonna do?"

"I don't know! What can I do?" I asked, frustrated as all hell.

"Do you know where he lives?"

"Yeah. We had dinner the other night."

"Wait. You were at Wes's HOME having dinner?"

"Being out in public with him would be worse, Jazz. He flirts with anything in a skirt. Last thing I need is Bill thinking I'm banging his nephew. Or Wes thinking that I'm interested in banging him."

"Please," Jazz scoffed. "Like you're not."

"Do I need to remind you I have a boyfriend?"

"Do I need to remind you that Marcus is a chump?" she retorted. "He's basically a couch cushion you have to feed. That asshole found a job yet?"

"No..."

"Of course not, because he's perfectly happy living off you."

"Jazz..."

"What? I told you I was done being nice to him. He didn't even show up to your birthday party because he wanted to go out with his boys instead. He can eat shit for all I care."

"It wasn't a big deal."

"It was your THIRTIETH birthday, Mia. He should've been helping me surprise you, not... thinking of ways to not show up. You deserve so much better than that."

"It's not like he treats me bad, Jazz..."

"You're right. He doesn't treat you AT ALL. At least treating you poorly would show that he knows you're there."

"Jazz..."

"I'm sorry, Mia," she apologized with a sigh. "It's just... frustrating. I saw the way Wes looked at you at the club the other Night. THAT is what you deserve."

"That look isn't just for me when it comes to Weston, trust me."

"I don't know about that."

"Okay, anyway," I said, raising my voice a bit to swiftly change the subject. "Should I just go over there?"

"I don't know what else to do," Jazz stated. "If he's not answering... maybe something happened..."

"I'm sure he's fine." But for some reason, even the thought that he might not be, made my stomach churn. "Yeah, I'll just go over there. Maybe he overslept or something."

"I'm sure."

I rose from my desk chair and grabbed my purse from the floor beside me. "I'll call you later."