“Well…” I brush my hair behind my ear. “Tonight’s?—”
“Sorry for interrupting you, but when are you going to go back to your pixie cut?”
Not anytime soon. I can’t afford to maintain a cut which requires visiting the salon every three weeks.“Change is good.”
“Let’s see how long it is.”
I lower my phone.
“Wait.” She lifts a hand up. “Is that a real Bvlgari Serpenti Viper slim necklace? Because there’s no way in hell a knockoff would look that good.” She squints. “Under the neon light, the diamonds are blinding me.”
Shit.
Kaz doesn’t believe in half measures.
Along with the couture, the designer shoes, and the whole enchilada, my roommate decided I needed diamond jewelry.
I bring my hand to the necklace. “Err…”
“The last time we spoke, you told me that after you andyour former business partners parted ways, one of your clients had given you a job to manage floral arrangements for all of his restaurants and his hotel. Is your client… your sugar daddy?”
God, I keep piling up the lies, but I can’t tell her the truth.
It takes everything in me to school my expression. “There’s nothing happening between me and my client. He’s a married man.” I add another layer to my fictitious client turned boss. “In any case, he had to downsize, so I had to find a new job. It’s rough out there so, I ended up… taking a job as a waitress until something better came along.”
“So you met your new man at your new job, and he’s already buying you expensive jewelry and you’re going to the gala with him tonight.” She sits a little straighter in her bed. “Tell me everything.”
The wheels in my head spin at a frantic pace, as I attempt to weave a story. “I met him?—”
“Miss Lancaster, I have three fabulous selections,” Judith says from the other side of the door.
“Ci, I have to go.”
“Have fun getting all dolled up. Call me later and fill me in.” She blows kisses my way.
I do the same.
She ends the call.
I let my head loll back.
Saved by the fashion consultant.
Chapter 19
Don’t take the bait
Harley
The chauffeured car drops me off in front of a building in Hell’s Kitchen. With the help of a valet wearing white gloves, I step out of the car and onto the sidewalk. If it wasn’t for the red carpet and the men and women all decked out as if they were on their way to a Mediterranean vacation all headed in the same direction, The Hudson Lounge would never give off the vibe of one of New York’s premiere venues.
You can’t always judge a book by its cover.
You’re a prime example of that, Harl.
I touch the dazzler of a necklace that cost twice as much as a mid-level car I have no business wearing. The least I can do is to overdeliver as Kaz’s fake girlfriend.
I open my blue satin clutch that matches my pretty shoes and search for my phone. I let out a nervous exhale and shoot Erik a quick text to let him know I’ve arrived.
