Page 102 of Selfie

Byron

Moving now.

Except I spot Byron in his tuxedo tucking his phone back in his pocket and following a butler and a silver tray. Grinding my teeth, I text him again.

Me

Great. Quit stuffing your face and move faster.

He looks up, searching for me around the ballroom. While I have eyes on him, he can’t find me. Fearing my omniscient presence, he heads toward the exit.

Byron

Roger that.

People used to cower around me, desperate to leap into action at my mere request.

Spencer has softened me up into a gummy bear to the point no one flinches when I speak anymore. I’m debating if that’s a good thing.

“More champagne is on the way,” I assure Julia. “Usually with silent auctions, they need someone to break the ice. Go put down my name as the starting bid for each piece of jewelry, anywhere from a quarter to half a million. In twenty minutes if there’s no movement, double the bid under Dawn’s name. If she actually wins anything, make sure to bill me. I’d like to keep my balls intact, thanks.”

A smile overtakes face, even though she still looks on the brink of tears. “Why are you being so wonderful? I thought you hated me.”

“Why would you think that?” I ask, knowing damn well the answer.

“I’ve literally seen you run away when I approached.”

I cringe, rubbing the back of my neck. “I can be a tough case to crack. I’m sorry.”

“If nothing else comes of this night, you speaking to me is a big win.”

I hold out my hand and she proceeds to give me a firm handshake. Instead, I pull her hand to my lips and peck the back of it. “Cheers to fresh starts, right?”

She nods, her smile relaxing into genuine appreciation. “I’d love that.”

“Just don’t make me call you Mom.”

She cackles. “Fair enough.”

“And just so you know, you’re not failing. You did a fantastic job. Look around. This place looks incredible and everyone is enjoying the attention to detail. My mother was fantastic at ordering things and bossing people around. Gun to her head, she could not tell you what was on the menu at any of her events. I’m certain my dad is already impressed. He loves you very much.”

Curling her finger, she touches her knuckle in a dabbing motion under her eyes. “Please don’t make me cry right now. My makeup is not waterproof, and I don’t want to look like a wet racoon.”

Her phone pings and she rolls her eyes at the text message. “Lucci,” she grumbles. “Excuses, excuses. I only needed her for one song. She’s on my shit list for life.”

I nod toward the stage. “Is that piano tuned, or just for show?”

“I have no idea.”

I’m taking a leap of faith which may cost me my life, but as much as I’ve put Julia through, she’s been nothing but forgiving and kind toward me. I have to try to help. “After your opening speech, instead of announcing Lucci, just give me the stage.”

“You can sing?”

“God no. But I know someone who can. Just do me a favor and tell everyone no recording and no flash photography.”

“What?”

“Trust me?” I offer.

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