Total pages in book: 85
Estimated words: 87522 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 438(@200wpm)___ 350(@250wpm)___ 292(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 87522 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 438(@200wpm)___ 350(@250wpm)___ 292(@300wpm)
“Skye, I need a huge favor.”
Of course she does. “What do you need?”
“I’m supposed to go to this charity event tonight for Mothers Driving Drunk or something.”
“You mean Mothers Against Drunk Driving?”
“Yeah, that’s it. It’s at the hotel, but I can’t make it, so I need you to go, take a photo, and post it.”
I consider asking why she can’t make it but change my mind. She probably got a zit or something and can’t be seen in public. “Tessa and I have plans.”
“Don’t worry. Take her with. I have two tickets. I’ll email them to you now.”
“Wait, wait, wait. How am I supposed to take a selfie of you if you’re not there?”
“Use your imagination. You weren’t going to be there anyway, so I wouldn’t be doing a selfie. Take a photo of the silent auction items or something and say how much I adore this charity. Whatever. This is what I pay you for, Skye. Besides, it’s black-tie, a gourmet dinner, and open bar. You’ll have a great time.”
Except I have nothing to wear. “Addie, I—”
“Thanks. You’re the best.”
All right, then. I quickly call Tessa, who’s thrilled, of course. She has clothes for every occasion.
“I’ll bring you a hot little black number that will look great on you,” she says. “Do you have some black strappy sandals?”
“I have silver strappy sandals.”
“Perfect. You’ll need a silver or white-gold necklace and earrings, then.”
“Okay. I’ve got that covered.”
“Awesome. See you soon.”
…
Tessa wasn’t kidding. The dress is a hot little black number, emphasis on the little. It hugs me tight, showing curves I never knew I had. Admittedly, though, it looks great paired with the silver shoes and accessories. She even brought me a silver evening bag to borrow.
I allow myself one Wild Turkey before dinner and drink it while I scout the silent auction items and photograph several. I post the Paris trip to Addie’s account, gushing about how much she loves French food and culture and really wants to win this awesome package. I tag her family’s hotel and throw in #helpingothers #paris #MADD #silentauction. Done.
She texts me a thumbs-up soon after, so my work here is done. Time to go.
“Are you kidding?” Tessa says. “We can’t leave now.”
“I thought you wanted to go clubbing.” Not that clubbing is my scene, either, but I feel like a fish out of water here.
“It’s free dinner, first of all,” she says. “And free drinks. Plus, the dance floor is already set up. We can do our clubbing right here tonight. I already see several young men I’d like to get to know better.”
None of the young men are Braden, so I don’t share her enthusiasm. But I relent. She’s right. Why not take advantage of our bounty? We find Addison’s table and take our seats, politely exchanging hellos with our tablemates, who are all much older than we are. Since we have nothing in common with them, we talk mostly to each other during our dinner of roast duck breast with cherry and walnut sauce, potato puree, and green beans with fines herbes. I forego wine with dinner. Tessa wants to stay for dancing. I’m saving my Wild Turkeys to get me through that fiasco.
After dessert—chocolate mousse cake—is served and the auction winners are announced, the lights dim, a disco ball descends, and neon illuminates the dance floor. A live band takes the stage.
“Selfie!” Tessa yells.
The new lighting makes our complexions glow. I’m not a huge fan of the night life, but this is a nice little perk. Everyone looks gorgeous now. I pull out my phone and take a quick photo of us.
I smile. We do look hot. I post to Instagram, tagging Tessa and our location. My few followers may as well think I have a life. It’s all a mirage, but they don’t need to know that.
We amble to the bar and order drinks. I’m not driving, so I allow myself two more for the evening. I order another Wild Turkey while Tessa, lover of all froufrou drinks, chooses a banana daiquiri.
We turn away from the bar to face the dance floor.
“Now what?” I say.
“We drink, of course. Maybe do some dancing. Lighten up, Skye. It’s not like this is your first time at a club.”
“We’re not at a club,” I remind her. “We’re at the Ames Hotel for a charity event. A black-tie charity event.”
Tessa shakes her head. “Semantics, dahling.” She looks gorgeous, her black hair and tan skin perfect with the red dress she’s wearing. Her mother is Mexican, and the band is playing a lot of Latin music, which Tessa loves.
Someone else notices her already. A handsome dark-haired man approaches us, zeroing in on her.
“Care to dance?” he asks.
“Sure.” Her face lights up into a dazzling smile. “Watch my drink, Skye.”
I nod.
This is my usual job at clubs and, apparently, charity events—watching Tessa’s drink while she dances the night away. I can’t leave the table or someone might take her drink. Fun time. I sip my bourbon, take out my phone again, and delete several questionable comments from Addie’s post. Then I look at my own post. I look good tonight. My hair is curled and falls around my shoulders in loose waves. Tessa’s black dress hugs my body, showing off my boobs. My brown eyes seem to sparkle in this fabulous lighting. I’m not gorgeous in the same way Tessa is, but I’m pretty, and I have a damned good body. As usual, Tessa’s getting more attention. She always does, and I’m happy for her, but why aren’t men flocking to me, too? Probably because, as Tessa’s told me many times, my attitude is akin to having “I’m the boss” tattooed on my forehead.