Page 58 of Fake Game

“Oh Gods, no. It’ll be like two hours. Go grab a coffee or something. I’ll shoot you a text when I’m almost done.” She opens the door and hops out.

“Wait, two hours?”

FOURTEEN

JACKSON

Ihurriedly exit my side of the car and catch up to her.

Deer heaves open the salon door, causing a little bell to chime announcing our arrival. The chill air inside has a slight chemical scent to it. Several heads turn our way, but Deer doesn’t break her stride as she strolls to the station in the back right corner. I avoid all eye contact as I stalk behind like her shadow.

“Amy!” Deer sings as she pulls out a chair and plops into it in front of a short woman, who returns the greeting with a soft smile.

“Hello, Deer. How have you been?”

“Good, good,” she reassures, giving the woman her right hand. “Busy, too.”

“Mm, I was worried when you canceled last week.”

“Oh, no, no. I promise, all’s fine. Perfectly peachy.”

I genuinely wonder how many times she has spoken that lie these last few weeks.

I wonder if anyone knows just how much she is hiding beneath that sparkly exterior.

Not sure what to do with myself, I hang back and lean against a part of the wall that isn’t decked out with various nail polish bottles.

The nail technician pulls out some sort of a drill and begins running it over Deer’s nails.

“Do you know what you want to do today?”

“Yeah, I was thinking something kinda like this.” Deer pulls something up on her phone with her free hand and brandishes it toward the woman.

“Cute, I like it. Same shape? Or keep it almond?”

“Whichever you think looks best,” she shrugs. “I trust you.”

Amy nods. Her gaze slips to me, and she gives me a blatant once-over before focusing back on Deer. “Boyfriend?”

Deer frowns before remembering that I’m in the room with her. Her eyes widen as she lets out a small laugh, the skin around her eyes crinkling.

A rock sinks in my gut.

“Well, last night I was his girlfriend, but today he’s my purse holder.” She lifts the fluffy white handbag off her lap with her free hand and holds it back over her shoulder. “Right, babes?” Her long lashes flutter like butterfly wings as she peers up at me. The honey-sweet voice she uses hides the taunting challenge at the core of her words.

I can feel the other technicians in the salon hushing as they watch the performance Deer puts on.

“Right.”

I pluck the tiny bag from her hand and her grin widens.

I really shouldn’t have come.

“Take a seat,” Amy instructs me, angling her chin to the empty chair next to Deer.

I give her a nod before pulling out the seat and sinking onto the soft cushion, the fuzzy bag perched in my lap.

I look like a fucking simp, and I am going to be stuck like this for two hours.

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