Page 7 of Miami Ice

“Ella. It seems a bit … well, gross, doesn’t it?” I ask. I take a moment to adjust Winston’s red mistletoe Christmas collar. “Taking one hundred thousand dollars to pretend to date someone? I don’t feel right about it.”

Ella flounces dramatically onto the sofa and lets out a huge “OOOF,” which is something she’s rather fond of doing when she is frustrated with me.

My show is done for today, and thanks to Sofia Bailey West, I ended up making an actual profit for once. Now I’ve returned home to the apartment I share with Ella in the Brickell district of Miami. It’s not cheap, but between the two of us, we can make it work.

Barely.

And the two of us might be a wee bit of an exaggeration. Ella pays a lot more on rent and utilities. She graduated with honorsfrom FSU with a degree in accounting, and she came out of school with a nice job and great paycheck.

As opposed to living on the sale of three jars over a two-day event.

The high rise is extremely nice, and I love the it because we can walk to cafés, coffee shops, restaurants, bars … it’s the perfect location. We live on the fifteenth floor and have an incredible view of the ocean from our living room.

“One. Hundred. Thousand. Dollars,” she repeats very slowly to emphasize her point. “That’s life-changing money. Just to hang out with some hockey player for a month. If you won’t do it, I will!”

I light up at that prospect. “Would you?”

“Ha! Are you conveniently forgetting I have a boyfriend?”

I grin at that. Ella has been dating Jordan since her last year at Florida State. He lives in Miami Beach and works in engineering. They plan to get an apartment together next summer.

I frown. Which makes this proposition even more important for me to consider.

“Georgie, listen, this whole situation is stupid crazy and like something out of the books I love to read”—Ella pauses for a moment, gesturing her hand toward the bookcase in our living room, filled with every single book she has purchased since joining BookTok—“but you are being given a GIFT. A gift! All you have to do is go out with him for a month. You can do the Christmas things you love doing, he’ll get people to your shows, and at the end of it? You walk away with financial security for a long, long time. A check that will let you push on with Georgie’s Jars. You’re not doing anything illegal or gross. It’s abusiness transaction. They want that Georgie magic that only you can offer. This.”

Ella waves her hand across the living room, gesturing in a sweeping motion. I can’t help but smile at that. Ella loves talking with her hands.

“They want this sparkle. Christmas magic. Pink,” she says.

I look around our living room, which is already decorated for Christmas. I don’t wait for Thanksgiving to be over. As soon as trick-or-treat is finished, it’s Christmas in my world. Just so I can have every extra moment to experience all the joy I can.

I love Christmas so much.

Ella knows this is my favorite holiday, and she lets me decorate however I want. I love the theme of a candy/gingerbread/Nutcracker Christmas and our whole apartment has that theme. A white-flocked tree filled with pink candy-confection ornaments, gingerbread ornaments, and lollipops. LED cluster lights twinkle on it for a magical effect. On our coffee table, there’s a cake pedestal with a cloche over it, and inside is a nutcracker. It’s nestled amongst candy-cane trees. I have some of my jars painted in pink, with LED candles flickering inside, set on the table as well. Our sofa has decorative cushions for the season, and of course I’ve decorated the kitchen, down to hanging wreaths from each cabinet.

“Only you have this magic, Georgie,” Ella declares, interrupting my thoughts. “You’re amazing and special and I can see how you could help Beckham Bailey get his career back on track.”

I hesitate. If I do this, it will solve so many problems. I could even afford to rent a space to do my crafting instead of driving over to my mom and stepdad’s house every day to work in my old bedroom.

“And Georgie? Quite frankly, after I looked up what he makes, you should negotiate for more money.”

My jaw drops. “You looked up what he makes?”

Ella quirks a brow. “Yes, because I knew you wouldn’t. Care to know?”

I nod.

“Ten. Million. Dollars. Ayear,” she says triumphantly.

“What?”

“Believe me, he can afford to give you a hundred grand to fix up his party-boy image. Georgie, have you even googled him yet?”

“Um, in case you don’t remember, I just got home from the craft show,” I remind her.

Ella looks gleeful. “Oh, you’re in for a treat.” She leans forward and retrieves her phone off the coffee table. “I saved my search for you.”

“Are you planning on becoming an agent, Ella Bella?” I tease. “Because that is how you’re acting for me right now.”

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