Page 150 of The Oscar Escape
“My assistant, Madelyn,” Georgia said smoothly with a smirk.
Aria studied the women. “Your assistant?”
“I thought you were my assistant, Georgia,” Madelyn teased, smoothing her signature scarlet scarf.
“No, no, I’m playing the part of the performance coach, and you get to be my assistant. We agreed,” Georgia countered.
“Perhaps I should stick to matchmaking,” Madelyn replied as the two broke out into giggles.
What the hell was this?
“You know each other?” Aria pressed.
Madelyn finished smoothing her scarf. “That’s a long story, and we don’t have time for long stories because it’s time for you to take the stage. But I do have one piece of matchmaking advice for you.”
“Okay,” Aria said, racking up one hell of a wisdom collection.
Madelyn waved her in. “You can never go wrong with scorching chemistry and raw sexual energy.”
Aria’s jaw dropped. “A body language expert posted that online about my connection with the knight in hooded armor. Was it you? Dom said it went viral.”
A sly grin spread across the matchmaker’s lips. “You know the internet. It could have been anyone.”
Aria held the woman’s gaze. “But it wasn’t just anyone, was it?”
Mischief glinted in Madelyn’s eyes. “If you could dedicate a song to my friend Agatha and her granddaughter, I know they’d appreciate it. ‘Believe’ happens to be one of their favorites.”
How did the matchmaker do it? How did she know so much?
Aria was lucky to be standing. “You know the widow?”
Madelyn waved her off. “I know lots of people.”
“Tula and Ivy mention this quite a bit. And they’re right. You are magical.”
“No, no, I’m simply a facilitator of fate,” the wise woman replied with her trademark line.
“Aria, that’s your cue,” Dom said, coming to her side.
“Break a leg,” Madelyn crooned.
Aria stepped onto the stage, reeling from Georgia and Madelyn’s admissions. The blast of golden light hit her, holding her in the glow as she made her way to her aunt.
Harper set her guitar on the stand and embraced her. “Hey, Grand Theft Auto, next time you steal a bakery delivery truck, make sure it’s full.”
Aria chuckled, grateful for her aunt’s wry humor.
“Are you holding up?” the woman continued.
Aria glanced offstage and observed the matchmaker. “I think Madelyn Malone might be a witch.”
“The woman is totally a witch. A good witch—but totally a witch,” Harper agreed, then looked her over. “Still rocking the lobsters?”
“Yeah.”
“It suits you. Now, listen to me. Just go with what’s about to happen. The audience is ready for it.”
What did that mean?
