Page 3 of Fairy Godmothers Aren't Cheap

Gabby

How did I not know that?

Samantha

Same!! FYI, we would have paid big money for that info.

Tamara

Samantha

Why u think I’m pranking u? One little time…

Gabby

Been more than once.

Tamara

This.

Me

How come I’m the one who always falls for her jokes?

Maybe Josie, our fifth roommate, was the one pranking me. She hadn’t jumped into the text string yet, and was likely busting a gut at me all the way from the Kananaskis. She’d been hired to do some inventory management for someone with a bunker in the Rockies an hour from the city in her spare time. The whole thing was so hush-hush, she’d even had to sign a nondisclosure agreement when she’d taken the job. But she’d let it slip that someone super wealthy had built a secret bunker in case of an apocalypse.

We’d all looked to Samantha upon hearing that, as her family’s social circle ran a little higher than ours. As in, her family held a seat quite comfortably in the top one per cent of the city’s—and province’s, heck, probably Canada’s—financial elite. She didn’t act like it though, as she was slumming with the rest of us. But still—she probably knew whose bunker it was, and was on the list to get inside should we all face Armageddon.

Tamara

What’s YFGM?

Me

Was it Josie?

Tamara

Gabby

Samantha

What a bunch of sassy brats.

Me

You guys have to try harder. I’m on to you now.

Samantha

Doubtful.

Gabby

I shoved my phone between the couch cushions and sighed in frustration. Not knowing was going to drive me nuts. Was someone stealing my identity, or was this simply a prank to wind me up? I should have waited until everyone was home and then questioned them in person. Tamara had the most obvious tells when she was hiding something, thanks to her sweet loyalty. All I’d have to do was wait until she came home from work on Tuesday night, exhausted and cranky, had yanked off her bra and made a nest of blankets on her bed to curl into while reading horse magazines and eating cookies—rice crisps if she was feeling fat. Her guard would be down and I’d see her blush, or act overly innocent, avert her eyes—anything that would tell me there was something to dig for.

But no, I’d jumped the gun and had no idea if she was in on it. Whateverthiswas.

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