“Our Omega will never be uncomfortable,” I countered. “And if your boutique cannot fulfill such a simple requirement, then we’ll look elsewhere.”
“Well,” Fabio scoffed, “Of course we can satisfy you, but it seems ridiculous. You are in the public spotlight. You are meant to be icons. Your Omega cannot walk around in sweatpants.” He said the last word like it left a disgusting taste in his mouth.
“If she wants to walk around in a tee and basketball shorts for the rest of her life, then she’ll do exactly that.” Tray had returned, slinging his arm over my shoulders. “But I’m sure you can make sure she’s comfortable and fashionable, right? I mean, Cat said you were one of the best stylists in LA.”
“One of the best?” I made it a question. “We have options then.”
“I am the best,” Fabio puffed out his chest. “And I will make sure your Omega has a wardrobe that is both sensational and, um, nebulous. Like… like a cloud!” He snapped his fingers and strode away towards his assistants, who had managed to put all the shoes back together in their boxes and form two neat piles. In his flurry to retreat, Fabio knocked their painstaking work over. He cursed at them as if it were their faults again before disappearing out the front door.
“So,” Tray dropped his arm from my body and boxer bounced away. “She’s a cool winter,” he pitched his voice into what was, I think, supposed to be an imitation of my own.
“She is,” I shook my head. “I also don’t sound like that.”
“You sound exactly like that,” he teased. “Also, our resident church boy’s got style.”
“Church boy was forced to shop with his mother once a month. Church boy learned how not to dress.” I began sifting through the racks again, methodically moving things from left to right and right to left. Periodically, I’d drop something onto the floor to join the itchy sweater. I stopped once I’d clearly separated out all the cool, rich brights along with a few white and black options. On the opposite side I’d filtered out browns, rusts, sunflower yellows, anything that screamed autumn. The pile of clothes at my feet had become a small mountain.
“Why are these on the floor,” Tray sunk down to a crouch and picked up one of the items. A pair of paints that had given me instant ick. Cringing, he dropped them again. “I wouldn’t put my enemy in that.”
“It’s tweed,” Cat’s voice cut in, her eyes on the ground, “and Chanel. So, perhaps we don’t leave it on the floor to wrinkle.”
Moving between me, Tray, and the clothing, Cat made quick work of scooping up the luxury items on the ground. She quirked an eyebrow. “Fabio really is the best, you know.”
“One of the best,” Tray quipped again.
“The only one that could fit us in on short notice,” Cat admonished. “You both have made your point. He’s going to readjust the wardrobe.Don’t make any more trouble.” She shifted her burden to one arm and then waggled a finger at us.
Tray crossed his heart. “Not a peep out of me. I was just backing up my boy here.”
“And I was correct.” I shrugged.
“Even if you are right, normally you are a bit more diplomatic with these things, Mac.” She waited for a response, but we said nothing. “Anyway,” Catalina rolled her eyes, making her look more like a teenager than a middle-aged Beta, “I’ve told Fabio to cut the cost in half as well, focusing on athletic, ‘cool’ casual, ‘vintage’ casual, artistic pieces, and only a few black tie.”
“Artistic,” Tray waggled his eyebrows, “That was for me, right, Cat-Cat?”
“Yes, Tray, for you. Athletic for Dixon… though he and Ryder cross over in style a lot. Casual with a vintage feel for Mac. Cool casual for Ryder.” She ticked off on her fingers as she listed, still managing the weight of the fancy clothing wrapped over one arm. “Remind me how I became your guys’ personal assistant on top of publicist? You don’t pay me nearly enough.” She grumbled.
“Obviously the moment you moved in and signed away your life for free rent.” Tray jolted forward, pinched her waist and rocked back quickly “And what do you mean we don’t pay you enough? You basically got Sal’s salary when she quit. You’re double paid for a double job now.” His shit-eating grin was so wide I thought he’d damage his face.
“Sally did not get paid enough either,” Catalina mused, “I really didn’t appreciate how incapable you boys are of running your own lives when she was around.” Cat walked over to the foyer bench and dropped the luxury clothes over one tall, scrolling side. She walked back to us, her expression unreadable.
Dougie Driscoll was an ancient accountant, well-loved in the celebrity circle. Though retired, he still helped a few clients. Catalina was the only reason he gave us the time of day. Sally left because she got married. Her new Beta husband wasn’t secure enough to deal with her being around four very big, very famous Alphas every day. I couldn’tunderstand being possessive like that. Of course, I wasn’t a Beta. Being an Alpha, I didn’t have to be possessive. If something was mine, no one else could take it away.
“All I know is that Doug’s going to have such a headache when I email this month’s expenses.” Cat crossed her arms after returning, staring us down.
“Are we breaking the budget, CeeCee?” Tray went into full jokester mode, his way of defusing tension. “We never overspend. You’re always such a worrier.”
“You never overspend?” She countered, tone incredulous and face scrunched up in disbelief. She shifted a little, pointedly looking at the cat towers growing taller and wider. “You are the worst of the bunch, Tray Rivers. Do you have even the slightest inkling how quickly this will all collapse if you guys don’t get back on track. Literally, on track.”
“We are on track,” Tray waggled his eyebrows, “Should have heard our jam session the other day.”
“Oh, I did,” Catalina scoffed, “I’m pretty sure I passed a bunch of teens with half-busted instruments busking on Sunset that sounded better. I would have come into the studio, but I prefer my ears to be in a state of not actively bleeding.”
“Ouch,” Tray slapped a hand over his heart, “That hurts, CeeCee.”
“Spending all your savings to secure an Omega and then losing everything because you guys can’t spend rationally or produce new music will hurt a lot more, Tray.” She dropped the truth bomb in a gentle voice, but it made it no less brutal.
A pang shot through my chest.
