“Fancy seeing you here!” Angelique said, with that annoying sultry voice she always used, thinking it made her sound seductive.
I groaned inwardly as I turned around to face her. I wasn’t ready to have that confrontation so soon while still trying to sort out my own feelings aboutmydemon. She glanced at the two heavy bags as the cashier placed the last shirt inside the left one. The speculative glimmer that sparked in her eyes, and the way they ever so slightly narrowed spelled trouble.
“Someone sure is on a shopping spree,” Angelique said in the fakest enthusiastic voice. “Menswear at that! What’s going on? Any news you’d like to share?”
I fought the urge to squirm, wondering how much or how little she knew. I doubted Sophia spilled the beans without my consent. As no one else would know, I could only pray that shewas also clueless, and that she didn’t remember she had left her egg in the apartment.
“Hey Angelique,” I said politely. “I thought you were out of town.”
She waved a dismissive hand. “I was. But I had to come back sooner to handle a big order. You know how impatient wealthy patrons can be.”
“Right. So why didn’t you drop by the apartment to fetch your stuff?” I asked, instantly flinching inwardly for raising the topic I wanted to avoid for now.
My wretched mouth would be my downfall. But I really wanted to call her out on her bullshit.
She gave me the least sincerely shocked expression before pressing her palm to her chest and looking at me apologetically.
“Oh shoot! I’m so sorry. It completely slipped my mind. I had so much going on.”
“I bet. Well I got your stuff out to avoid Mrs. Hopkins charging us a cleaning fee.”
“Aww, you’re always so lovely!” she exclaimed in that patronizing fashion that always made me want to claw her pretty face and poke those baby blue eyes out. “I appreciate it. If you don’t mind holding onto them for a few days, I’ll arrange to have them picked up from your place.”
“Sure, no problem.”
I took the receipt from the cashier, tossed it into one of the bags, and picked them up, ready to leave.
“So you never told me who those clothes were for,” Angelique said in a pretend friendly way, although I didn’t miss the harder glint in her eyes implying that I wasn’t going anywhere until I answered her questions.
“It’s for my boyfriend,” I said with a shrug.
Her eyes widened with genuine shock. “A boyfriend?! I didn’t know you were dating anyone. Who is he?”
“No one you would know,” I said in a non-committal fashion.
“Try me,” she insisted.
“I assure you, it’s no one you would know,” I replied, lifting my chin slightly in a subtle act of defiance.
Anger flashed over her attractive face so quickly hidden most people would have missed it. But sharing an apartment with her for a year had taught me to recognize all the precursor signs of trouble. She flicked her long, platinum blonde hair over her shoulder as she gave me a greedy and speculative look.
Angie loved to steal other people’s boyfriends. Anytime a woman in our circle of ‘friends’ expressed interest in a man, Angie would always swoop in and seduce him first. She had no interest in a long-term relationship with any of them. She only liked to brag that everyone else settled for her leftovers.
“Well then, that failure must be rectified. Imustmeet the man who has finally managed to capture the heart of our elusive little Coral!” she said with a sickly-sweet smile. “Make sure to bring him along to my party in two days.”
“Your party?” I asked, confused.
“Oh! Did I forget to tell you?” she asked with that same fake innocence that made my skin crawl. “I’m holding a pre-fair party at my penthouse this Thursday.”
“Wow! Then yeah, you totally forgot to invite me,” I said in a neutral tone, totally unsurprised.
Stupidly, it hurt my feelings not to have been invited, even though I actually dislike her and most of her inner circle. Chances were, I would have found an excuse not to attend. But it was the principle. I hated feeling excluded or unwanted, even by the likes of her. I seriously needed to cure myself of my people pleaser and pick me tendencies.
“Oh, my bad! But you must come. I’ll have your favorite cocktail on hand as an apology and as a gesture of goodwill.”
Your bad, my ass.
“I can’t promise,” I said in the same fake apologetic tone. “I still have a lot of final preps to do for the fair.”
