“Have you read Michelle Obama’s book?”
She hadn’t. Justin had loaned it to her like a year ago.
Betty waved her hands as if to keep from crying. “In the words of the most righteous bitch of the twenty-first century, ‘If you don’t get out there and define yourself, you’ll be quickly and inaccurately defined by others.’”
Gabby didn’t point out that Betty was literally dressing her up like a doll.
“Stop smiling. I’m trying to give you a bold, smoky eye.”
When Betty finished, she stood back and nodded in approval. “Go get ’em, tiger.”
Being a wife and mother had taught her a lesson that being a double agent had really hammered home. Gabby Greene needed to rescue her own damn self. It had only taken her until thirty-eight to learn that lesson.
Betty Danger sashayed into the center of the room and snapped her fingers in the air. “Okay, everyone. Let’s get to work. We have one hour to be party ready. I want it to look like an episode ofThe Sopranosin thirty minutes, but a classy one. This ain’t the Bada Bing, baby.”
“Who is the entertainment tonight?”
“Me and some of the other queens. We’re going to tone it down and channel Nina Simone. You’ll love it.”
“Perfect.” Gabby had to admit that having Betty’s crew, all six-foot-something badasses in heels, was comforting.
“You over there,” Betty said loudly in the direction of… Gabby did a double take. It was Markus. She hadn’t even noticed him arriving.
Markus smiled at Gabby and held out his hand. “Marshall Townsend. Nice to meet you.” Marshall, the name she’d given him the other night.
“Nice name,” she said, her voice sweet but with a tinge of “I see what you’re doing here.”
He glanced over her shoulder at Betty Danger and shook his head almost imperceptibly, his frustration palpable.
Gabby smiled and held out her hand like she hadn’t heard him. “Camille Walker. I’m Mr. Kramer’s personal assistant. And this is—”
Flirty to the max, Betty introduced herself. “Danger, Betty Danger.”
Gabby rolled her eyes. “Stop flirting. You’re married.”
Betty held out her hand dramatically to be kissed and dismissed Gabby’s reprimand. “I’m in charge here tonight.”
Markus practically choked on his own spit. “You’re in charge?”
“Yes, of the whole operation. I’m LA’s premier party planner,” Betty announced with no shortage of confidence.
If only she knew how much she’d pissed off everyone with this particular plan.
Markus flashed an “is she for real?” look at Gabby, who confirmed, “Betty is number one.”
“Marshall,” Betty said, angling for something by the tone of her voice, “can I bother you for some… assistance?” She gave him an up-and-down. “I see you have plenty of muscles.”
So did Betty for that matter.
Markus looked like he was biting down on his tongue, hard. Gabby tried not to laugh. After all of Markus’s whining that Betty couldn’t be at the party for national security reasons, here he was stuck doing her bidding. Gabby could watch this all night.
“What do you need?” Markus asked, sounding like he was ready to get this over with.
“Could you be a dear… there are some heavy boxes in my car. Could you carry them in?”
“Fine.”
“Oh, and first, can you hand me this vase? I can’t quite reach it.”
