Page 18 of The Protégé

“Where’s the enthusiasm for your best friend you haven’t seen in a month?”

“It’s eleven at night. I’m about to go to bed.”

“Shit! Sorry, darling. I’m still in California. Be back in on Wednesday. What have you been up to?”

“Working. You know my situation,” I said, appreciating him more than he knew.

We’d been best friends since the sixth grade. Elliot was a handsome gay man, and I’d used him to keep creepy men away from me when we hung out. He owned Salon Oasis and knew how to dress to impress.

“You need a break. You’re not a machine.”

I knew that, but there was so much to do and not enough time. Bills needed to be paid.

“I will. Don’t worry. I’ll take a few days for a staycation. Not in the mood to travel.” I didn’t want to spend unnecessary money for a hotel and other travel expenses.

“Did you fix the leak in the roof yet?”

“On my to-do list. Guess what? I slammed into a Bugatti Voiture today.”

“What? Holy shit. What happened?” he gasped, knowing how much that car cost.

I gave him a brief version of the events.

“He offered you a job just like that? What’s the catch?”

“He needs my help with an investigation.”

“What kind? Nothing shady, I hope.”

I smiled at his protectiveness. Elliot was like thebrother I never had. “I’m not sure. I start on Monday at a building downtown. He’s a rich guy.”

“An extremely rich guy. Only Richie Rich could afford that car. Can’t believe he let you off that easily.”

“Maybe he really needs my help. He’s not from here, and he said he needs someone who knows the area.”

“The wealthy can commit crimes and pay others to erase the proof. Just be careful, okay? Promise?”

I’d encountered a few of those stories before. “I promise.”

“The reason I’m calling—without even thinking about the time—is because one of my clients is hosting a charity event to support a fashion designer. It’s a silent auction, and the proceeds will go to a couple of local charities. One model had a family emergency and can’t make it to Monday night’s event. You interested?”

My new job started on Monday. It might be too stressful?

“I’m not a model, Elliot.”

“But you’ve modeled for me before. Besides, you’ll make three grand for wearing clothes and walking around for three hours of work. It starts at seven PM.”

Anxiety tightened my shoulders. I should be resting . . . but the extra income would definitely help me out.

“Showing off your hairstyling skills isn’t modeling, Elliot. I don’t know how to walk or pose like those models.”

“This isn’t a Paris fashion show. It’s a charity event where regular people wear clothes to mingle. I’m going too. My team will do the hair and makeup. Come on, darling, let me help you.”

That money could be added to the fund for a new roof, or new car tires. Or take care of my check-engine light, which just came on tonight.

“So I don’t need to do the catwalk? Just be myself?”

“Yup. Karina is modeling too. You know how clumsy she is.”

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