Page 123 of Camera Shy

Avery

“Holy shit, that’s a lot of skin showing.”

It’s not just Palmer’s words through our FaceTime call. It’s the way her face is screwed up like she’s in pain. It’s unmistakably a look of shock and horror at me in my mermaid costume. “Do you have a shawl or something?”

“I really only asked about my makeup, Palmer,” I say, stepping closer to the mirror and taking a seat on the bathroom chair positioned in front of several different eyeshadows and mini tubs of glitter.

Lennox was supposed to help me get ready, but she got horrendously ill with what she calls the super flu. It’s been over three days and just this morning we confirmed there was no way in hell she was attending the birthday party tonight. I offered to skip the party and help take care of her instead, but she insisted she felt guilty enough for infecting Alan. They have plans of commiserating in their misery tonight together, in Snuggies, in front of a Marvel movie marathon.

I’m jealous. Outside of the fever and chills, that’s exactly my perfect version of date night. Dolling up for hours, like I’m about to walk the red carpet or walk down the aisle is not a routine I want to fall into. But Finn seems so excited about tonight. I don’t want to be a killjoy. For the past couple of weeks, we’ve been enjoying the gray area. The place where we get to flirt, cuddle, have constant sex, but don’t have to make any life-altering decisions. But the gray area has an expiration date—and it’s in three days when I head to Cancun to present to the board.

I blink at Palmer, who has fallen into an awkward silence.

“Okay, fine, just say it—do I look fat? Because Lennox and Finn have already seen me in the costume and they said I look—”

“No. No, Aves. I didn’t say fat. It’s just…” She pinches her brow. “What did Finn and Lennox say?” she asks in a mocking tone.

Lennox said I looked jaw-dropping bold and hot. She also made some less-than-tasteful comments about my breasts—all complimentary. And Finn didn’t say much because the moment the costume was on, he peeled it right off. He did mention mermaids may be his new fetish.

“They said it looked good.” The bottom of the mermaid costume is a long, flowy, pink skirt that’s see-through and sheer. The delicate fabric is held together with silver chains that attach to a clamshell—that conveniently matches my bra—covering my bottom bit. This is the most revealing thing I’ve ever worn in my life, but I’m headed to a strip club costume party. And aren’t I an adult by now? Who has the right to tell me what I should and shouldn’t be wearing?

“Maybe just throw a crop top on over it. Like take a T-shirt and just put it over your bra and tie the ends.” She demonstrates a knot with her hands like it’s a foreign concept to me. “You’ll feel even more comfortable.”

“Thanks, Palmer. Real supportive,” I mutter bitterly and pick up a makeup brush and passive-aggressively stab the bristles into the glitter pot too hard. Pink and silver shimmer goes flying all over the bathroom countertop and the bottom of my phone that’s propped against the container of cotton swabs.

“Come on. I’m not saying you look bad. It’s just…”

I exhale and meet her eyes on the screen. “It’s what?”

“You’re changing, a lot.”

“And?” I’m not doing a good job hiding the irritation in my voice.

Palmer rolls her eyes at my tone. “I mean, I know you, Aves. You’ve been my best friend for twenty years, so I can say with full confidence that you, the real you, is pretty incredible. I don’t want you to change your entire identity because Mason wasn’t the one. You are perfect for someone. And I just don’t think that someone is going to want you to dress up like a mermaid slut and party at a strip club.”

I deadpan. “Slut?”

She holds up her hands in surrender. “Sorry! Poor word choice. You get what I’m trying to say. You’re just not Vegas, you’re not going out, you’re Avery. You’re cuddles on the couch, and ranch and chips for dinner, and the most intelligent, kind human being I know. You deserve everything, Aves.”

As per usual, Palmer’s loving and supportive message is wrapped in her candy coating of sass and judgment, but the core is sweet at least.

I gesture to my cleavage on display. “This isn’t the norm. I’m the one who wanted to go to this party. Finn… I don’t know, Palmer, there’s something between us and I think it’s real.”

She turns up her lip like she smells something rancid. “Real? You and the strip club owner? Come on.”

“He’s a photographer—a really good photographer,” I say, grabbing the aerosol hairspray and spraying it into my palm. I dab the liquid by the sides of my eyes before using the makeup brush to deposit a healthy coat of glitter where my eyeliner ends. I’ll be damned. It actually works; the glitter is glued in place. All courtesy of Lennox’s genius. “He wants me to move here to be with him and give our relationship a real chance.”

“Stop. What the fuck?” Palmer asks, her eyes popping into wide circles. “You’re not—”

“I am. If I get the Legacy Resorts job, I’m moving to Vegas.”

The job is almost guaranteed.

My hunch was more than spot-on. Once I dug into the board members’ financials, it was very clear what Legacy’s main issue is…

They have a rat.

The member most adamant about selling the company and getting everyone to rally behind him happens to be a major investor in Legacy’s direct competition. My big presentation transformed from a pitch to a witch hunt. Once I tell the executive team and other board members what Mr. Wallace Frank has been up to, he’ll be voted off the board and Legacy can start fresh with a supportive team and a solid new branding vision.

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