Page 11 of The Nanny and the Hothead
Bra in place, she pulled her long auburn hair over her shoulder, started braiding, then caught her reflection in the rearview mirror. She froze, staring at herself as a heaviness set in. This was her life. A life where, in exchange for money, she dressed like a mermaid hooker! Her phone buzzed, and she tied off the braid, then glanced at the text. It was from the text chain between herself, Libby, Harper, and Penny.
LIBBY LAMB: How did it go with your professor, Char? Your energy is off. How much caffeine have you had today?
Charlotte rested her head on the steering wheel and released a weary chuckle. She loved her friends. And Libby, their resident Zen diva, was a riot. But the peacefulness that came with seeing Libby’s name pop up on her phone was replaced with dread. What was she supposed to tell Libbs? The professor basically said she’d never taken a picture worthy of the Royal College of Art. Charlotte swallowed past the lump in her throat.
No! She couldn’t tell Libby that.
CHARLOTTE AMES: She gave me some good feedback.
LIBBY LAMB: Which image did she suggest you submit? That great shot of the city skyline or the one of the kids playing in the fountain outside the museum or one of your night sky shots?
Charlotte blew out a slow breath.
CHARLOTTE AMES: Neither. She told me to go back to the beginning and remember why I chose to study photography.
Immediately, three dots flashed.
HARPER PRESLEY: WTF? Do I need to go kick some academic ass?
Charlotte shook her head as a happy tear ran down her cheek and she brushed it away.
What would she do without her girls?
LIBBY LAMB: Harper, take a breath! That reaction will not balance your chi.
HARPER PRESLEY: Screw the chi, the fee, the fie, the foe, and the fum! Charlotte’s pictures are amazing! Definitely worth throwing down for.
Charlotte had met her girl squad way back in kindergarten. And while they’d grown up, some things remained the same. Case in point, not even the bullies in fifth grade messed with the badass kindergartener version of Harper Presley.
The dots appeared again, and Penny joined in.
PENNY FENNIMORE: I’m reading through the text string. Harper, how many piano lessons have you taught today? I sense some ’roid rage—I mean Rachmaninoff rage.
LIBBY LAMB: Good one, Penn! Using that writer’s brain.
HARPER PRESLEY: Ha! Ha! And FYI, that would be eight back-to-back lessons—and I have two more to go.
LIBBY LAMB: Breathe, girl! I’m sending positive energy.
CHARLOTTE AMES: I’ll need those good vibes, too. I’ve got an event with Sutton Bryan now.
HARPER PRESLEY: I know it sucks, Char. But you’re a crazy hot mermaid! You will always have that.
Charlotte scoffed.
CHARLOTTE AMES: F you, H!
HARPER PRESLEY: That’s more like it, Char! Embrace your inner redhead. Get fired up! You don’t always have to be nice. Know your worth, girl!
PENNY FENNIMORE: We love you, Char!
LIBBY LAMB: You’re my favorite mermaid and a talented photographer. Don’t ever forget it!
HARPER PRESLEY: And if you need me to kick some ass—I’ve got a narrow window between lessons.
Charlotte chuckled.
CHARLOTTE AMES: Love you, H! Let’s hold off on the ass-kicking for now.
