Page 26 of Fang
He jogs off toward the backyard. His party is tonight to celebrate his patch. It’s also the first time the prospects are going to see how we do things.
First, we have the meeting, though.
Pulling out my phone, I call Blooms.
“Thank you for calling Blooms. This is Penelope. How can I help you?”
“Yes, Penelope. A friend of mine stopped by earlier. It is her birthday. I was wondering if you could send her a bouquet of flowers for me. I have her address. While you’re at it, could you stop and grab a cake too? I’ll pay extra.”
“Oh, that’s so wonderful to hear. I was worried she had no one when she came to buy her own. I guess she should have waited, huh? Give me her address and I’ll get it to her. Do you want to leave a message?” she asks.
“Happy birthday, Cami. May all your dreams come true.”
“That’s sweet. What about your name?”
“I’d rather remain anonymous. Can you take a card over the phone?”
After I settle up with Penelope, I hang up the phone and smile. It’s something small, but I hope it makes her smile.
Happy birthday, Cami.
I wish I was spending it with her.
This is ridiculous.
I section off the next piece of my hair and begin to crimp it. My hair almost looks like I stuck my finger in a light socket and got electrocuted. After I’m done, I’ll have to tease it and put it in a side ponytail.
I don’t know what’s worse, my hair or the neon lime green outfit I have to wear on stage.
I should recommend we do nineties night next time so we don’t end up having to do eighties again. At least then the outfits were a little better. By the time I’m done with my hair, I have a cramp in my hand, which, honestly, feels a little fitting.
After unplugging the crimper, I grab my bag and pull out my outfit. Instead of lingerie, I found a skintight lime green-and-black sports bra and panties that go way up high on my hips. It’s not the sexiest thing I’ve worn, but it’s time appropriate. That and I can do with a break from all the lace. Once it’s on, I tighten my ponytail and look myself over in the mirror.
That’s as good as it’s going to get.
When I step out of the dressing room, Happy pushes off the wall.
“Hey, how are you?” he asks.
“I’m good. Thanks, by the way,” I tell him, my cheeks heating.
“For?”
I fight the urge to roll my eyes. Men. I should have known he forgot.
“The flowers.”
He frowns but doesn’t say anything.
“The ones you sent me along with the cake. It was you, wasn’t it?” I ask.
He looks confused but doesn’t respond. I huff. It had to have been him, but maybe he didn’t want me to know.
“How’s the crowd tonight?” I ask, changing the subject.
He tilts his head from side to side. “More than normal. Fuller than I thought it would be, honestly.”
“That’s good for both of us. Hopefully I can make them happy.”
