Page 39 of The Player's Obsession

“I won’t know anyone there, so I don’t plan to leave his side,” I reply.

“This is going to be good for you,” Lucinda reassures me as she takes a bite of her lunch.

She’s right. I need to open myself up to new experiences. I pick up my burger and take a bite. The juice and flavor fill my mouth—it tastes like a slice of heaven.

I pay for lunch, it’s the only thing she’ll accept from me.

We return to the stores, and by the time we leave, I have an entire wardrobe, undergarments, and accessories for any occasion. I checked the care labels and most of the clothes don’t have to be dry cleaned. On the drive to my place we spend the time rehashing the day’s adventures.

Lucinda parks the car outside my apartment and helps me carry in thousands of dollars of merchandise.

“Where am I putting everything?”

“Oh, boy. You need one of those portable racks with the wheels. I heard Pamela Anderson has a storage unit behind her house for things she isn’t wearing.”

“Yeah, I can’t do that here. I can pack some of it and deal with the rest later. It’s a good thing you thought about luggage.”

My phone belts out the ringtone from the songAll I Do Is Win.

Oliver’s calling.

CHAPTER18

Penelope

Lucinda pauses at the door, and we give each other a quick hug.

“Hello?” I say into the phone.

Lucinda rolls her eyes and gestures with her pinky pointing at her mouth and thumb pointing at her ear for me to call her. I nod and give her a thumbs-up as she slips out, shutting the door behind herself. I deadbolt the lock and peek through the blinds to make sure she gets in her car okay while listening to Oliver pepper me with questions.

“I’m driving at the moment, so be prepared to hear me cursing at stupid drivers. How did your day go? Did you get a dress for the wedding?”

“Yes, I did, and so much more. My goodness. It takes a small fortune to be with you.”

“You better get used to it. Maintaining top-notch looks requires an army and a war chest. Living in the spotlight isn't a walk in the park. Women typically use a plethora of products and services to achieve that camera-ready appearance. And some men? They're right there with you. Others, though—they just retreat behind long hair and beards."

His perspective on metrosexual men draws a chuckle from me. Personally, I appreciate a well-groomed man, much like Oliver.

"Ugh, I can't stand beards, especially those scruffy, unkempt ones," I comment, hoping to steer him away from any beard-growing ambitions. It would be criminal to hide his Michelangelo-chiseled features under a mass of facial hair.

He continues, "Men are simple creatures, really. We're all about fine clothes, watches, and shoes. But the financial havoc women wreak at malls and salons is nothing compared to what men can drop on 'adult toys' like cars and boats."

“Right. Are you trying to make me feel better about stimulating the economy?”

“Yep. I hope you succeeded. The locals will appreciate the payday. By the way, what size ring do you wear?

My heart stops. Ring? Oh, no, I don’t want a ring. He needs to stop wasting money on me.No, no, no.

I play naïve. “What do you mean?” I’ll be coy, maybe he’ll go back to talking about facial hair.

“Umm, if we’re telling people we’re engaged, you have to wear a ring.”

“I’m sure one out of a bubble gum machine will do. Do they even have those anymore? It’s been years since I had a jawbreaker.” I ramble when I’m nervous.

“Penelope. We need a ring to sell it. Either you tell me your ring size, or I’ll tell everyone you threw yourself at me and tripped over a vacuum.”

“You’re making this a difficult decision,” I reply.

---