Page 22 of Big Boss
“I’m thinking about all the details of the gala, obviously. Why don’t you take this”—I waggle my black credit card at her “—and head to Canal Place? I have to finish up a few details on the press release for Daddy Kitten going double platinum, and then I’ll join you.”
She stares at the credit card like it might sprout fangs and bite her hand. I waggle it at her some more, like I’m trying to get her to pounce.
“What do you need from Canal Place?” Her mouth curls downward.
I shake my head and muss up my hair, trying to rub away the headache that’s already blooming at the mere thought of dealing with the press release, with all the little squirmy letters and words on the schedule before I can meet up with Erica again.
“I don’t need anything. You”—I point at her with the pen I’m holding— “still need a gown, some shoes, whatever.”
I watch her face fluctuate between distress and disgust, then she carefully blanks out all emotion and forces a smile. “Right,” she says quietly.
“Hey, don’t be like that. Those boutiques are going to be dying to put you in something beautiful with their name attached to it. You’ll have a hard time figuring out which gown you want to wear. I promise.”
Erica gives me a heavy side eye, but slips her hand over the credit card and shoves it in her pocket. Because of course her outfit has pockets. They all do.
I clear my throat. “Also, no pockets in your gown, Miss Ridley.”
Her eyes widen momentarily, and then she looks off to one side.
“Ring ring,” she calls out. “Ring ring.”
I stare at her. Even for Erica, this is definitely weird behavior. I’m tempted to ask her what she’s doing, but right as I open my mouth, she picks up one hand, thumb and pinky extended, and holds it up to her ear like an old-fashioned telephone.
“Hello? Oh, hey, Tate, it’s for you.” Her eyes clash with mine as she pulls her hand away from her face and then she flips me off with both hands.
“You don’t tell me what to wear, Bossy. Not now and not ever. That’s not how this works.”
I stare at her. Is she joking? “I’m buying your gown, so I should at least get a vote or something.” My voice sounds a hell of a lot more uncertain than I was going for.
Her cheeks flush. “Absolutely not. I’m still doing you a favor by coming with you, and if I want to get a gown with pockets, you’re going to tell me all night long how pretty I look and how smart I was for getting the pockets one.”
This woman. She’s right, of course, but can’t she at least pretend like I’m right sometimes?
I clear my throat. “As you wish.”
Apparently not evenThe Princess Bridecan help me, because she slams the door anyway when she leaves.
9
Erica
Chaos is my enemy.It takes everything that I have planned to function in a neat and orderly manner, lights it on fire, and waits for it to explode in my face.
Does this sound overly dramatic to you? Possibly, but I hate trying to cope with the unexpected. I know there are people who live for spontaneous fun or love having random adventures. But people like that are either stupid or self-destructive.
What is the point of even trying if you can’t be prepared for every possible bad thing that could happen? It’s called prepared, not paranoid.
And I am anything but prepared for the impromptu shopping trip to Canal Street. I can tell almost immediately that I’m going to be uncomfortable for the duration of this entire task.
It’s too crowded, for starters. I don’t like big crowds. It’s too many people all shoving and pushing around, expecting me and everyone else to yield to them. And I don’t like to yield. It feels too much like a sign of weakness.
Not that I want to be the one blundering through crowds and shoving bystanders out of my way, either. There’s some sort of in between that feels much more comfortable, and for me, that’s no crowds.
One person at a time is fine. For example, Tate. He sees me but never makes me feel anything other than okay just as I am. Even though I’m me, moody and always a little bit awkward, no matter where I am.
I never get the feeling like he’s secretly making fun of me. He’s honestly the nicest person in my life right now. He accepts me and all my weirdness in a way even my own family doesn’t.
Also, the people swarming all over the shopping district are expensive looking. As in, I don’t exist to them, or when they do accidentally take notice of me, it’s to sneer and give me the “use the servant’s entrance” look.
