Page 5 of Undeniably Perfect

“Oh?”

I nod. “I need to break my monotony.”

Lanie purses her lips, considering the concept. She finally nods her approval. “OK, yeah. That might work. Well played, Di.” She looks down at her watch. “I hate to break up this lovefest, but I should head back to finish this motion. I’ll see you two later.” She leans down and kisses us both before heading out of the door, the phone already up in her hand.

Di looks after her and shakes her head. “That one takes everything too seriously.”

I nod my agreement. “That she does.”

“Come on, you can walk me back to my car,” she says. I follow her out, and we chat about her latest male conquest.

“Promise you’ll try it,” Di says as she pulls her car fob out of her purse.

“I promise,” I say, holding up a Scout finger salute.

“Good. Now, go be productive,” she adds with a wink as she gets in her car, but not before hugging me. I hug her back, and we squeeze each other tight.

“Love you, little psycho,” she says with a wink.

“You too, little Lolita,” I respond with a nickname I gave her as a teenager.

She sticks out her tongue and pulls away, leaving me pondering life on the sidewalk.

Chapter Three

My manager barely looks up from his phone as I make my way over to his desk. He holds up a finger, and I sit down in the chair across from him.

Walter Clyde is a big guy. He has a head full of gray hairs, but he also knows his shit and is well-respected by the team.

I have to place a hand on my leg to keep myself from nervously bouncing it, a habit that I can’t seem to break. After a minute, Walt gets off the phone.

“I need you to go to this address at two today,” he says, handing me a business card. I look down and read it.

“Tabitha Crane Photography.”

It has a phone number and address for a building that’s over near the water.

I hold up the card. “What’s this for?”

“Well, Karen thought maybe getting involved in a local charity campaign would help you. The team needed a face for the event, and you are the perfect match. A big PR firm joined forces with the children’s hospital. They are having an auction as well. You’ll need to sign some memorabilia for an auction, attend the gala, and do some press.”

Damn. He knows that’s my charity and so does Karen, my publicist, who is on maternity leave. Lanie had lymphoma as a kid. It was caught early, and she beat it and has been cancer-free since she was eight, but it took a toll on her for sure. It also took a toll on the whole family. It’s our family’s number one charity.

I nod because no words are necessary. Walt knows this. He also knows the hospital is my kryptonite when it comes to charity events. I wonder if this is his subtle way of getting me to get out of my headspace. I also wonder how he drew the short straw in instructing me to do this.

“Go shower and get over there,” he says.

“Sure thing.” I don’t bother asking more questions because he’s back on his phone the second I stand. The man is more straightforward than Lanie. There’s no flowery conversation with him. Not that it’s a bad thing, because I don’t feel much like talking at the moment, and I sure as fuck don’t want a heart-to-heart with my manager.

Chapter Four

The building is an old warehouse of some sort. It’s not in the best shape compared to the recently renovated buildings surrounding it. I walk in through double doors and find myself in a lobby. There’s a board on the wall listing the businesses and their associated suite numbers. I see Tabitha Crane Photography, Suite 325. The building is so quiet that it almost feels like a residence. I walk up the two flights of stairs and down a hallway. I pause at the door, or should I say, “doors” because there are two of them, one on either side of a small placard with “325” written on it.

I look from one door to the other. Shrugging, I open the door on the right, feeling a little like Alice in Wonderland, a story Di used to force me to listen to her read over and over again.

I no sooner have the door cracked open when there’s a screech on the other side. I don’t have time to process the noise as a sink and then...a toilet with a woman on it comes into view. Oh god. I’m frozen in place. She’s beautiful in a very artsy way. Her hair is a mix of blonde and reds. Her eyes have dark eyeliner around them, and her lips are painted a deep shade of red. She has a nose piercing, and a tattoo peeks out from under the arm of her shirt. Her mouth is open in an “o” of surprise and her pale skin color is pink with embarrassment. She’s the type of person that would prompt my dad saying, “there’s a story behind this one.” And I’m pretty sure he would be spot on.

“Hello?!” she says, shaking me from my catatonic state. I realize this is the second time she’s said it.

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