Page 47 of Beyond the Fame

Shit.

I’m going to kill Jensen.

I open my mouth, about to explain... to say anything but the truth.

“Don’t you dare try to lie to us.” Ginger waves her finger up and down my body. “You have a glow.”

“I do not.”

“An orgasm glow,” Lana adds.

“I see it. You’re definitely glowing,” Eloise says, sitting next to me on the couch.

“Shut up.” I jerk my eyes to Bruno’s mother, Sophie, who saw the hickey, and is giggling with the rest of these insufferable women.

Gram is the worst of them all, laughing up a storm, slapping her leg, and wheezing. “All I have to say is finally.”

“You too, Gram?” I ask, betrayed.

“Oh, honey, I may be old, but I ain’t blind. I saw you two together last year. You clearly have the hots for each other.”

I throw both of my hands up in the air. I'm being ambushed. It’s annoying.

Yet, I can’t stop the grin forming.

“Spill!” Ginger says, giddily.

I roll my eyes and my grin spreads across my face.

“I don’t know what’s happening between us. I mean, we hate each other. I think. But last night, he came back to the suite with a purpose. He looked at me without an ounce of the disdain I usually see. He was like, a whole different man.”

I’ve only seen glimpses of that man. Jensen keeps him hidden behind a guarded wall. Every once in a while, I'd see shadows of his attraction to me.

Did he ever see mine?

“And?” Ginger and Lana bark at the same time.

“And... We didn’t have sex, but... he still made me come twice.”

“Ooooooo,” Ginger and Lana howl in unison again. I swear they are the same damn person.

Before I can go on, a short and voluptuous Black woman walks over, interrupting our gossiping. A wave of relief washes over me. As fun as this was, I don’t want to talk about my sex life with Gram here. Even though she seemed to egg me on the most.

“Ginger, I’m ready for you,” the woman says.

Ginger stands and sucks down the rest of her champagne. “Time to get my hair and makeup done.”

I’m not the one glowing. Ginger is. She's the bride. It's her day. Why were we making such a big deal about me?

Because that’s what friends do.

The thought warms my belly. I do have friends now. Lana, Ginger, Eloise. Friends who gossip, who share happy moments with each other, who hype each other up.

A white woman with pink hair styled in a retro-fifties curls and wearing a vintage dress to match approaches. Rockabilly. That's the style. And it’s adorable. I could pull off rockabilly. How cute would Jensen and I look together, him in his hipster lumberjack attire and me dressed like I'm about to shoot a pinup calendar?

Wow. Where did that thought come from?

“Maid of honor?” the woman asks in an Australian accent. Lana waves and stands, following her to a chair next to Ginger.

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