Page 17 of Let Me Say It Again

Don’t listen to people when they told you otherwise, money talked. And that you could take to the fucking bank.

One of the makeup artists approached Jade’s eye with a long, black wand thing and her hand shook, nearly poking her in the eye. Damn, that would hurt.

Jade’s face went beet red, and I thought she might punch the woman. “If you don’t get that brush out of my face, I’ll shove it up your—” Who was I kidding? She attacked with her words, not her hands.

“Ignore her. She got up on the wrong side of the bed this morning.” Couldn’t piss the people off who still had pokey things near your face.

Jade tossed me a dirty look as another woman dabbed at her lips with a tissue. When they were done, she asked, “Is this how our engagement party is going to be?”

“Brat,” I muttered.

“Answer, please, because, if so, then you can count me out.”

“No can do. You’re the main attraction. But no, you can do your own hair and makeup for the engagement party. As to what you’ll wear, the stylist will pick out something for that, and you can take it home.”

“No way!” She practically flew out of the chair, and the hair stylist brought her hands to her shoulders, pushing her back down. She also rolled her eyes but was smart enough not to mutter anything under her breath. I knew Jade was difficult, but if she said one thing—one measly thing—by way of insulting Jade, then I’d see to it that her career as a hair stylist was dead and buried deeper than just six feet under. She wouldn’t get a job here or anywhere else unless it was the North Pole, workingon the gray hairs belonging to Mrs. Claus. “Screw you, Red,” she muttered, but stayed in the chair.

“I’m not completely opposed to that.”

“I mean it. I’ll dress myself.”

“Fine, but wear a bra.”Because if you don’t, I’m going to be staring at your tits all night long wanting to fuck them, to leave my mark all over them.

“How will I give you the satisfaction of seeing my nipples then?” Goddamn this woman and her obvious goal to drive me completely mad.

I growled, ignoring her comment. It was for the best because, while there were some things I’d say, I did know when to shut my mouth. “The engagement party is this weekend, so now you can’t say I sprung that on you, too.”

“How can you pull that off so soon?”

“My mother’s planning it.”

“Like that’s explanation enough.”

“Lyonses get shit done.”

“She’s technically not a Lyons anymore.”

“Semantics.”

“Facts.”

“Whatever.”

* * *

Jade

“You really get your balls waxed?”

The photographer kept snapping pictures, even though we’d only moved half an inch from the position he’d had us in before.My hand was on Red’s pec, my eyes looking up “wistfully” at him as he looked at the camera.

It seemed a little too on the nose if you asked me, what with the man looking completely oblivious to the woman’s interest in him and whatnot. Who knew photographers would want to capture that? Well, in his defense, he referred to them as editorial poses. I referred to them as ironic.

Red wasn’t supposed to be smiling, only looking stoic, so he tried his best not to move an inch. I was grateful for that actually because the last time I moved—to sneeze mind you!—the asshole with the camera made us do the pose over again and remain like that for an additional two minutes.

Wasn’t one photo enough?

Not with this one. He needed two hundred of the same one. Looking through this galley was going to be mind-numbing. All of the photos were going to look the same, so how could anyone tell them apart to choose their favorites?

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