Page 30 of The Wicked

Sara’s to-do list:

- Find my size two mop brush.

- Order groceries (Deon to deliver).

- Check on flight availability.

- Avoid nervous breakdown.

- Try not to trip over Darla’s cat.

“Ohmigosh, have you ever been to Times Square? I got lost at least twenty times, and the people are weird. Everyone I talked to just looked at me funny, even when I complimented their clothes or wished them a super-duper day. And the lady I sat next to atThe Lion Kingkept giving me dirty looks, but apart from that, New York was fantabulous. I spent six hours in Bloomingdale’s, and I still barely made it around a quarter of the store.” Paulo beamed at Brooke and me. “But I did manage to get gifts for my bestest friends in the whole world. And also for Blue.”

Against all the odds, I’d made it through Thursday and Friday at the Craft Cabin and lived to tell the tale. And, even more surprisingly, I hadn’t hated being there. After almost a week holed up in the pool house, jumping at my own shadow, spending time among glitter and sequins lifted the veil of darkness. The place was a real Aladdin’s cave. And then there was Brooke’s unending cheerfulness and a steady stream of customers to take my mind off…well, my mind.

Paulo began unpacking bags, and it seemed he’d bought New York’s entire supply of tissue paper and ribbon.

“This one’s for you,” he said, handing a box to Brooke. “And this is for you.”

Shoes. He’d bought me shoes. Size seven Riya de Leon pumps, this time in a dusky pink instead of blue, suede with a maroon velvet ribbon woven around the top.

“You shouldn’t have.” I mean, where would I ever wear them?

“He didn’t. Davis’s credit card, right?” Blue spoke from behind me, and I jumped six inches and knocked into a yarn display. Fluffy balls rolled all over the place, and Pickle the cat appeared from nowhere and leapt on the nearest one.

“Hey, hey, let go of that.” Brooke made a grab for the cat, but Pickle dodged and ran up a rack of acrylic paints. The whole thing teetered for a second or two, then finally overbalanced, spilling tubes across the floor.

“Shit!” Brooke squeaked, but Blue just laughed.

“That damn cat. She’s a pain in the neck.”

Paulo turned indignant. “Don’t insult Pickle.”

Blue was kind of right. Cat-astrophes were a regular occurrence, according to Brooke, but since Pickle belonged to Darla, any breakages just got written off with a sigh.

“No more kitty treats for you,” Brooke said as she bent to pick up the mess. “Things went well with Davis, then?”

“Last night, he—” Paulo started.

Blue held up a hand. “Please, we don’t need to hear the graphic details.”

“I was just going to say that he hired a professional chef to come cook at his apartment, and the truffle risotto was to die for. Sara, do you like the shoes? Brooke said you lost one of the blue ones? I didn’t get time to customise them, but if you want crystals, I’m your fairy godmother.”

“Paulo, they’re too much.”

“Nonsense.” He winked. “Blue was so right about Davis’s credit card. He told me to buy whatever I wanted, and that meant bringing my favourite Cinderella a pretty new pair of pumps.”

“Davis French can definitely afford the shoes,” Blue put in. “He could afford to buy the whole of Bloomingdale’s if he wanted to.”

I still wasn’t entirely certain how Paulo had hooked up with a wealthy New York businessman, and he was sure keeping quiet about it. I’d only met Davis once, when he was in town visiting with Romi—they were old friends—and he was Paulo’s polar opposite. Serious, quiet, distinguished. He rarely smiled, and his favourite colour appeared to be grey.

Brooke stopped stacking paints back onto the rack and opened her gift. Paulo had bought her a purse, a cream leather purse with a colourful scarf tied around the handles. Blue got a selection of fancy coffee and a bottle of perfume. There was no doubt which she preferred.

“Thank you,” I said softly. Gifts were a rarity in my world. The last person to remember my birthday had been Grandpa. This year, I’d bought myself a cupcake from the Coffee House, added a single candle, and made a wish that life would be a little brighter this year. Only to get fired two days later by my cousins.

“You’re very welcome, sweet pea.”

“Who wants coffee?” Blue asked. “I’m woefully under-caffeinated.”

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