I furrow my brow. “A what?”
“A soap concierge.”
“How does that even work?” I ask, intrigued.
“See? Marley has the most interesting job,” Ava insists.
“The hotel hired me to make seasonal soaps for all the guests, and I also make a selection of soaps for the spa,” Marley explains. “It started as a hobby in college because I was bored. Then my friends encouraged me to sell at craft shows. At one show, a woman from Hotel Fredrico stopped by and began ordering from me, and to my surprise, my hobby ended up being my new career.”
“Oh wow, that’s amazing,” I say.
“I started for them as soon as I graduated from Miami,” Marley continues. “Not exactly a great use of my marketingdegree, being an artisan soap maker for a luxury resort, but I love it.”
“I actually met Marley at a wedding show,” Ava says. “I was intrigued by her soaps. I was there for the floral business, and Marley was showing soaps as a gift idea for wedding guests.”
“You two might know my friend Georgie,” I say. “She does hand-painted Mason jars. Georgie’s Jars?”
“Oh! I’ve seen her stuff!” Marley says. “Super cute.”
We continue to talk the whole way to dinner, and it seems all too soon that I’m pulling up in front of the sushi bar in South Beach, the name lit up in neon outside and palm trees wrapped in white twinkling lights lining the street. I fumble for the phone in the console and drop it, and the soundtrack suddenly changes from Wham! singing “Last Christmas” to a very somber—and very loud—“O Tanenbaum” as the valet opens my door. He looks rather surprised by my Friday night musical choice, and Hadleigh bursts out laughing in the seat next to me.
Now everyone is laughing—including the valet. “Festive,” he quips.
I laugh. “I swear that is not the playlist I had on.”
“Sure,” he says, grinning at me.
I finally get it switched off, and we all pile out of the car, still cracking up at the valet’s reaction.
“Think about it,” Hadleigh says, her eyes sparkling. “He opens the door to find four hot girls vibing to ‘O Tanenbaum!’”
“Well, he won’t forget us,” I joke.
We all crack up again. I’m sure it’s not nearly as funny as we think it is, but we are hysterical all the same. We head inside the restaurant, and I take in the space. It’s very sleek, in shades of black, white, and gray, with light-wood tables and chairs and lots of bamboo for decor.
The hostess leads us to a table, and we all take a seat. The girls start chatting again as I peruse the selection of mocktailson the menu. I’m debating between a virgin cranberry Moscow mule or a spiced pear martini when the conversation turns to men.
“I know Hadleigh is single,” Marley says. “But she did get to meet Xavier Williams last week.”
I lift my eyes from the mocktail menu and turn my attention to Hadleigh, who immediately looks embarrassed.
Wow. She really does look like she’d rather live under a floorboard for the rest of her life than talk about Xavier Williams.
WHAT HAPPENED, I NEED TO KNOW.
“Who’s that?” Ava asks. “Should I know?”
“Um, he’s a famous F1 driver,” Marley says. “A very hot F1 driver.”
“Ooh, and you met him?” Ava asks Hadleigh.
She lifts one arm in a simple shrug. “My best friend is dating an F1 driver, and I got invited to the race. He was very nice.”
Argh! It’skillingme not to know what happened between them! But my gut says I’ll never find out.
“I’m single but looking,” Marley says, grinning. “But Ava here has a gorgeous new boyfriend.”
I shift my gaze over to Ava. A sheepish smile passes over her face, and she tucks a strand of her black hair behind one ear.
