Total pages in book: 110
Estimated words: 106935 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 535(@200wpm)___ 428(@250wpm)___ 356(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 106935 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 535(@200wpm)___ 428(@250wpm)___ 356(@300wpm)
No idea.
In the morning, I find a reply. In the form of a photo. It’s a shot of a black satin something. Then a note. Dear god. I groan for several seconds as I stare shamelessly at the image, then read the delicious words.
Friend: You were right.
I love that I was right. And I hate that I was right.
18
THIS CORDIAL GAME
Layla
The DM from Storm delights me.
It’s winking up at me as Jules, Camden, and I leave Krav Maga on Tuesday morning. Girl, you need to come by the store! I haven’t seen your face in two weeks. Plus, I have news!!!
As I walk up Amsterdam, I tap out a reply to my new favorite makeup store manager. We’ve become fast friends over the last few months since I met him at the start of the summer. Way to keep a girl waiting! Tell me now.
Storm’s quick on the draw with his reply: My lips are zipped. Come by! It’s good! The store isn’t open yet, but your BFF Storm will take care of you.
I show the message to my friends as we near a smoothie shop. “What do you think it is?”
“I don’t speak makeup, but it sounds cool. You better tell us everything,” Camden says. “And bring us some free swag.”
Jules taps her chin, contemplative. “Or maybe he has a new hot thing for you.” She knows what went down at the diner. I told the crew the whole sorry tale when I convened with the Virgin Society the morning after the diner shock.
“Yeah, that’s what I need. A new man,” I say dryly.
Jules arches a brow. “Did I say man? I meant makeup. Pretty sure makeup, chocolate, and face masks are excellent replacements for romance.”
Camden snorts. “Yeah, but they don’t have ten speeds like my favorite Just For Her vibe.”
“You both make good points. And on that note, I’m off.”
Ten minutes later, I’m standing outside Blush on Columbus, but it’s no longer Blush. It’s…Mia Jane, and it’s gorgeous. With an all-peach storefront, and the name in a huge block font, the store screams “take a picture in front of me for social media.”
Which is an excellent marketing strategy.
Storm’s inside, working on a laptop at the counter. When I rap gently on the glass, he lifts his head, smiles brightly, then scurries to the door to unlock it and let me in.
Storm spreads his arms out wide. “Is this good news or what? It’s all Mia now. I told you she was going to start opening shops, and yours truly is the new manager of the flagship New York store,” he says, clearly proud of his little corner of the makeup world. Perhaps of his relationship with her too, since he’s using just one name for her—Mia. They must be close, since Mia Jane is her public name.
I turn in a circle, effervescent as I’m surrounded by my darlings—gorgeous glosses, and fantastic liners, and terrific toners. I feel like I’m home. “I love it.”
He sets a hand on my arm, squeezing. “And that’s not all. I told Mia about you,” he whispers, even though we’re the only ones here.
“What did you tell her?” I ask, and I don’t bother to hide my hopeful smile.
“Showed her your vids. She loves them. She wants you to come by the store and do a training sesh with customers on your fabulous smoky eyes and winged liners. She’ll pay you, obvs, and promote it as an event with The Makeover,” he says, grinning from ear to ear. He’s suddenly stern. “You better say yes.”
“I’m saying yes, Storm!” I’m saying yes so hard.
“Excellent. Mia will reach out, and we’ll set it up. She’ll be here too.”
I need to catch my breath. “Pinch me.”
Instead, he blows me an air kiss.
I might have lost the guy, but I have a new friend, and a new business opportunity. Once I leave, I text Geeta, and she replies with dollar signs, then words. Market the hell out of The Makeover. We will sell the bajangajang out of it!
That’s the plan. Creating content and organizing those classes keeps me busy until the evening, when it’s time to see David, and his too-sexy-for words father.
Leaving my apartment, I draw a deep, cleansing breath, vowing to think clean thoughts about that dirty man.
I’ve seen a lot of swank buildings in Manhattan. But Nick Adams’ glittery high-rise is something else. It kisses the blue skies of New York City.
And yet it doesn’t need to be the tallest or the biggest building in the skyline. It’s simply content to be the most beautiful with its art deco style.
Ethan and I turn onto Nick’s block, and his Gramercy Park palace comes into view. My friend whistles as he stares. “Damn, girl.”
I gaze at the gorgeous structure too; its beauty is a wonderful distraction from the looming dread of going inside, up to the top floor, and planning an event with my friend and his father. If awkward had a headshot, it’d be me.