Page 68 of Playing for Keeps

Poppy enters the salon with her sisters close behind. They’re channeling high school mean girls. I sense they might start flinging insults.

Well, probably not Journey. She seems the least convincing in their “bitch brigade.” Also, Poppy has only one target, and she’s currently walking toward me.

“What do you plan to have done to be sufficiently groomed for the wedding?” she demands while glaring at me. “I don’t want you ruining the pictures.”

“I’m finished,” I say as the stylist removes my gown. “Got a trim and conditioning.”

“You need more done. Maybe a face scrub and something with your eyebrows.”

I smile at how she tries to make me insecure. “No.”

“You’re going to ruin the pictures!” Poppy cries. “No one is going to notice Val when you’re stinking up everything.”

“Are you here to get beautified for the wedding?” I ask, wearing a smirk. “I think a haircut might fix what’s ailing you.”

Poppy bounces back and gasps. Justice follows suit like they’re puppets on the same strings.

Journey glances at her sisters and shakes her head. “I’m not doing that,” she says and walks to Edith before checking on Betty and Oana.

“I got a haircut last week,” Poppy shares with great flair. “I’m perfectly perfect already. How dare you?”

“Why are you here, really? Is this your way of trying to make me like you? If so, couldn’t this have waited until the holidays when we’re forced to spend time together?”

Poppy gasps and looks horrified at Justice. At that moment, I realize these two blonde middle-aged women werenotin fact the mean girls in school. They can’t handle the least bit of pushback.

However, I got into shit with girls at school all the time. Jealous hags bullied me for a few months in junior high until I started bullying them back. There was a dozen of them against me, but I still made their lives suck.

My nickname in high school was “Ice Bitch.” Nothing Poppy says will faze me because I know she’s a big softie deep down. No way does a tender-hearted guy like Val have a truly bitchy mom.

“I don’t like you,” Poppy growls.

“You don’t know me.”

“That’s true. You’ve invaded my family as a sketchy stranger. What I do know about you is all bad.”

“I’m basically a girl version of Val.”

“No,” Poppy hisses, unable to attack her own children. “There’s no way you’re perfect.”

“Perfect?” Tuesday snorts, winning a dark frown from her mom. “Sorry. Carry on.”

“You’re terrible,” Poppy tells me and squeals at the ceiling like a she-beast about to attack.

“Lola?” Clover asks, concerned we’re about to get into another brawl.

“It’s fine. She’s Val’s mom. She can’t hurt me without hurting him, and Poppy Mercer isn’t that kind of mom.”

Poppy’s blue eyes flare full of menace, but I get the distinct impression she wants to laugh. I suspect she’s caught sight of her reflection in the mirror behind me and knows she looks the funny kind of deranged.

“I love Val,” I tell Poppy who deflates in front of me. “He’s an absolutely exceptional person.”

“Exceptional?” Tuesday snorts again. “I mean, are we just making shit up now?”

“Stop stealing your brother’s limelight,” Poppy demands.

“He isn’t even here.”

We all pause to see if Val will appear to take control of the situation. When nothing happens, Poppy shrugs and eyes me.

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