Page 12 of Samhain

Miri had found one of her cousin’s suits that fit me perfectly, a decadent tailored piece made for a prince. Literally. I ignored the designer label as I slid the jacket on, preferring not to know so I didn’t spend the rest of the day guessing how much it cost. It was a far cry from the jeans and T-shirt vibe I preferred, but I had to give it to Miri. It did turn this ugly duckling into a shiny new swan.

“This is him,” Miri said. “He’s a good friend from college. We were in theater together.”

“Ahhh.” Roxy raked her incinerating gaze over me, piercing and terrifying in the same blink. “Fresh meat.”

“Indeed,” Miri said. “I was hoping you could find him work. Maybe take him on as a client?”

Roxy raised an eyebrow and took another sip of tea. “I work with show dogs, Miri. Not pound mutts.”

“Even tramps can clean up nice.” Trying not to take offense, I flashed her a charming grin and a flirty wink.

She redirected her attention to me. “Have you ever done a photoshoot before?”

“Some, when I was a kid.” I’d done a commercial or two for a local broadcast.

“Well, let’s get a look at you.” She stood and came closer, circling me like one might size up a prize horse. “Are you in good shape?”

“Amazing,” Miri answered for me. “And talented. I sent you the footage.”

“I saw,” Roxy said. “Still, the market is saturated, and for someone with no experience?—”

“I’ve got experience,” I argued.

“I don’t mean a rinky-dink college in the middle of Virginia.”

“I acted with the Royal Theater Company for a year in high school.” The RTC had a reputation internationally for a reason. Many of the British greats had trained with them.

That perfectly manicured eyebrow lifted again, this time impressed.

“I told you,” Miri said. “Talented.”

Roxy nodded and went back to her armchair next to Miri, picking up her tea with a thoughtful glance between us. “What’s your relationship?”

“We’re friends,” Miri said.

I licked my lips and dropped my gaze to the floor. Friends barely scratched the surface of the complexity between Miri and me. We were star-crossed lovers, bonded in brokenhearted solidarity. We were married in the soul, and we always would be.

“Right,” Roxy said. “And what does Auntie think of your…friendship?”

It took me a moment to realize she meant the queen of England, the king’s wife, the ruler of Miri’s social calendar.

“We really are friends,” I said.

Roxy’s eyes narrowed on me. “Weren’t you dating Ivy Washington?”

“Not for a long time,” I said. “Now, we’re just?—”

“Friends,” Roxy finished for me. “Right.” She looked between us again before taking another sip of tea. I slipped my hands into my pockets and played it cool, even if I was an anxious mess on the inside. I forced my shoulders to straighten when every instinct I had wanted to curl in on myself. Insecurities ran rampant through my mind.

What if I’m not good enough? What if I’ll never be good enough? What if no one likes me? No one respects me? What if I’ll only ever be Chicago-good? Not Hollywood-good? What if they only ever see Ivy when they look at me?

What if I’ll only ever be Ivy’s ex-boyfriend?

“Listen, when I take on a client,” Roxy said, “there are only two things you’re allowed to put before me: your health and your immediate family. In both situations, someone better be in the hospital.” She paused for effect, making sure the next part sunk in. “Love affairs are not one of those things. You can’t decide not to show up to work because your girlfriend caught you sticking your dick in someone else and wants to fight you for it. You understand?”

Miri snorted.

“Miri knows this because that’s how we were raised. Nothing is more important than your brand.”

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