Page 43 of Hot Mess

“Nonsense, you said your new boss was a high roller. Just put it on her expense card.”

I stopped. We were a few feet from the hostess stand.

“My boss has money, not me. I’m not buying you lunch here.”

If laser beams could shoot out of her eyes, I’m sure she would have lasered me dead then and there.

“Sorry, there’s been a mistake,” I said to the hostess, who stood poised with menus in hand.

I turned and walked out. Jessie followed me, fuming.

“I know you’re lying about everything Kayla. I saw pictures of you with Nick Sadler at the Children’s Hospital charity dinner. You were in a fucking designer dress, so don’t tell me you are here on some kind of job and can’t afford to buy me lunch.”

I turned to glare back at her. She held out her phone and there was an image of me with Nick from the event. How many pictures did she have of us? What could I say? I wasn’t about to tell her I was being paid to be Nick’s escort at events because of studio pressure.

I turned around and kept walking. “Look, there is a taco truck, right up there. I’ll buy lunch there.”

“What were you doing with Nick Sadler? Huh? Are you going to tell me?”

I didn’t want to tell her anything.

“Is your boss some kind of pimp? Are you working as an escort?”

I stopped in my tracks. I was, but not like that. What the hell could I tell her to get her to drop it?

“It was more like a blind date. My boss was supposed to go, but ended up with a stomach bug, so I went instead. The dress was hers. I barely said anything to him all night. Okay? The whole thing was awkward, I'd like to forget about it.”

18

NICK

A few days later…

“Ishould have hired a stylist for you,” Isaac complained.

“Why?”

I slapped my hands together, distributing hair gel. I ran my fingers through my hair. That semi-tousled, carefree look took more preparation than slicking my hair back. And even though my hair was now short on the sides, I wanted that rakish unkempt look on top.

Isaac looked me up and down. “I guess you’ll do.”

“It’s a Christmas party. Not an industry event. There is no red carpet. And you aren’t going to get me into an ugly Christmas sweater, no matter how ironic. I think everybody is using that word wrong anyway.”

“You aren’t going to impress anyone, that’s for certain.”

“I’m not interested in impressing anyone tonight. I want to go; enjoy the company of people I know. You know, experience some holiday cheer.” I stepped into my closet, more like a small room, and pulled a pair of socks from the sock drawer.

“Speaking of holidays, your mother sent you a Christmas card.”

“How do you know?” I groaned as I sat. Mother never sent me anything without expecting something in return.

“I opened your mail. I open all of your mail. She’s in the Caymans. Spotted a, and I’m quoting here, ‘darling little beach house.’”

“Let me guess, she thinks it would be the perfect Christmas present for her, and did she include the agent’s contact information?”

Isaac chuckled.

I stood and contemplated my shoe choice.

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