Page 26 of Crazy Thing

I guess this is what it’s like to make a deal with the devil.

12

ZIGGY

Clothes are strewn across every surface of my ultra crammed bus. Clothes that are not even mine.

My closest friends are squeezed onto my lumpy fold-out couch. Alana, Meghan, Nadia and Emma all showed up at my door this evening. My girls are here to make sure I have the ‘appropriate business attire’ for my new job.

And wine. Lots of wine.

I light a smudge stick in my tiny kitchenette, and Nadia immediately starts coughing and waving her hand around. “Are you trying to start a forest fire?”

“Look! Fire, Mommy!” Sparkle urgently fists the front of Emma’s shirt and points in the direction of the smoke.

Tucking her wiggly toddler against her chest, Emma quickly twists over her shoulder to open one of my windows, letting the smoke waft outside.

“Sorry, ladies!” I snuff out the flame before taking a long gulp from my wine glass. “I’m just trying to burn out this negative energy that I’ve been carrying around. Between thiswaterfall business and having to deal with Darius’s grumpy butt, my whole aura is out of whack.”

“I still don’t understand why Darius Brighton is offering to help you,” Meghan says, tossing a maroon pencil skirt in my direction. “He’s a billionaire. Billionaires don’t just throw their money around for no reason.”

She would know. She’s married to a billionaire herself. Cash Westbrook has all the money in the world and he uses it to give Meghan everything that she wants. And for the most part, Meghan just wants cats.

Cats, cats and more cats.

Nadia, who’s neatly folding some of the clothes I’ve already rejected, waggles her brows. “I thinkIknow why—girl, your butt looks divine in that pencil skirt.”

Alana looks up at me from where her newborn baby boy has got her boob in a death grip as he breastfeeds. “Yeah. Based on what you’ve told us, you and Darius may fight like cats and dogs. but your ass in that skirt could initiate an international peace treaty.”

Standing in front of my narrow, wall-mounted mirror, I awkwardly wiggle my hips. Shit—this skirt is tight.

I grab another outfit, stripping off the current one right out in the open. I try on another knee-length skirt and a plain, sensible blouse.

I used to have a few armchairs in here for guests. But I recently got rid of them, keeping only my fold-out couch. I do miss having the extra furniture but at least I can turn in a full circle in my living area now.

“Trust me—Darius wants nothing to do with my butt,” I quibble under my breath.

I already got a glimpse of that man’s taste in women a long time ago. And I’m not it. Back then, he was all about the pretty, perky fashionista types.

By this point, with all the money he’s got and his GQ magazine good looks, I’m sure that Darius Brighton has upgraded to dating actresses and A-list models and Instagram famous socialites.

My heartalmostcracks just thinking about it. But it doesn’t. Because Darius is not my type, either. Anymore.

“What’s all the animosity between the two of you anyway? From what you told us, you haven’t seen this guy in years.” As Emma speaks, I notice her trying to sneak some notes into her tiny notebook.

“Put that away!” I scold her.

“Oops!” She grins at me and she sheepishly slips the notebook back into her purse. This girl uses absolutely every conversation as inspiration for her bestselling romance books.

“Anyway, I just don’t like his vibe,” I tell the girls. “He’s always been selfish and egotistical and now that he’s rich? I’d bet he’s a hundred times worse.”

Nadia squints at me. “Don’t you think that sounds a little…judgmental?”

I feel a pang of guilt because I know better than to go around judging people. But the same rules don’t apply to Darius. Darius has already proven himself to be the enemy.

I stubbornly fold my arms across my chest. “Well, I know I’m right about him,” I insist, even as I begin to feel a bit foolish.

Alana and Nadia share a look but they say nothing. Meghan breaks the silence by flinging another skirt at me. “Here. Try this on.”

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