Page 86 of You and Me, For Real
I pat my purse. “Yes.”
“Good! How about I take Teddy’s and Roxy’s leashes? Will they let me do that?”
“Sure,” I say, knowing Roxy will follow Teddy’s lead.
She hooks her other hand through my arm, shaking it. “Let’s do this!”
Wren whizzesme through a blur of strangers. Each one is surprisingly kind and affable to my rescue center. I lose count ofhow many cards I pass out. Some even offer to give me money on the spot, cash in hand. I do my best not to let my eyes bulge at the sight of so many large bills. Each time, I decline and request they use the QR code on the card and pay through the separate account I set up. I want to make sure everything is above board.
When Scarlet said Hollywood’s elite would be here, she wasn’t kidding. At first, I fumble through my words, but with each new person, I get better and better at my pitch. Almost like I were reading from a script. By the tenth or so couple, I dare say, I almost felt comfortable.
At some point, Griffin emerged from the house, but I was too busy in my conversations to catch exactly when he rejoined the party. He mingled by himself for a while before Scarlet joined him.
I lean backward behind Wren and see them standing together, chatting with an older couple. Though they stand close, her hands aren’t plastered to his body somewhere. I hope that means their conversation went well. Selfishly, I want him by my side instead.
Jealousy clenches my stomach, oddly similar to my thirteenth birthday party. I wanted nothing more than my mom’s love and attention at that party. And yet, she never even took a moment to tell me happy birthday—too busy working the crowd, ensuring a successful episode. Always her career over me.
Wren leans in close and whispers, “Remember, it’s just for show.”
I blink from my haze and turn my focus to her. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Her eyes soften, sympathy exuding from them. “I think you know exactlywhoI’m talking about.” She squeezes me with a quick hug and guides me to the food table. “I’m starving. How about we take a break from mingling and eat some of this snacky food?”
Wren picks up a bone-shaped carrot and nibbles. “That is some stunning work right there, I tell ya.” She waggles her carrot up at the massive dog ice sculpture towering over us. “Look at that. They even have his name chiseled on the dog tag. That kind of detail is impressive, don’t you think?” She chomps on a paw-tato chip, per the snack’s label.
“It sure is.” Even though it’s started to melt, the details—down to the fur—are extraordinary.
Somehow, during my sculpture study, Wren manages to pile a collection of food on her plate. “I’ll take the dogs and save you a spot at that table over there, okay?”
“Sure.”
She guides all three dogs toward the table but gets stopped by a couple. Within seconds, she’s laughing and talking so boisterously that I can hear her from the food table over the loud music. The girl is too social for her own good. At this rate, I’ll beat her to the table.
I gaze at the food display, laughing at all the kid-friendly foods. There are pupcakes (cupcakes), chew sticks (celery), hot dogs (actual hot dogs), and fruit kibble (fruit salad). I fill my plate, though I’m not sure I can stomach any of it.
“I hear you’re some kind of fairy dog mother.”
The deep voice jolts me, my plate nearly tumbling from my hand. I turn to the voice, seeing none other than famous actor, Jaxon Barnes. My jaw loosens from its hinge.
His smile is wide, his expression open and friendly. His light brown hair blows softly in the breeze, and his blue eyes twinkle with mischief. He could almost be Griffin’s twin or stunt double. The likeness is uncanny. How have I never noticed this before?
“It’s actuallyThe Furry Godmother. But close enough.”
He juts out his hand. “Jaxon Barnes.” His hand encases mine, his skin smooth and warm.
“Nice to meet you. I’m Ashton Reid.”
“So I’ve heard. It seems you’re the talk of the party.”
“I am?”
His eyes crinkle. “Yes. Apparently, you’re the future savior of our animal community.”
I laugh. “I don’t know about that, but I’m going to try and help.”
“I got tired of waiting for my chance to meet you, so I decided to take the opportunity when I saw an opening and come introduce myself. You already know my name, but this here is my rescue pup, Georgie.”
By his feet stands the cutest brown-and-white bulldog I’ve ever seen. I place my plate on the edge of the table and greet her. She’s sporting a daisy-printed bandana. On closer inspection, I see it reads, “Trouble never looked so cute.” I laugh and scratch her forehead. It wrinkles, and her nubby tail wags vigorously.
