Meghan
Rose and Minnieoohed andahhed as they carefully unboxed the Birkin bag Walter had given me.
“It’s beautiful!” Rose exclaimed.
“I think you should definitely date Walter, not Hunter,” Minnie said, carefully folding the tissue paper.
I reached for the bag, but my sister slapped my hand away.
“Your hands aren’t clean. You’ll get it dirty.”
“Honestly, what am I going to do with a bright-blue bag?” I asked, staring at the expensive purse.
My sisters gaped at me in shock.
“You are so spoiled,” Minnie declared, flopping on my bed. “A handsome guy buys you a designer bag, and you complain. No wonder Hunter doesn’t want anything to do with you.”
Ugh. Teenage girls.
I washed my hands in the sink. The town hall debate was tonight. Walter was probably going to be there. Since he had given me the bag, I felt obligated to wear it. I slid it on my shoulder, or tried to. It was made for people a little smaller than me.
“You’re supposed to carry it on your arm or in your hand.” Minnie demonstrated.
“I look silly,” I said, staring at my reflection in the mirror. “I have papers and notebooks I need to carry.” I set it back on the bed and packed up the canvas tote I typically used to carry my stuff. Then I shooed my sisters out of the apartment.
* * *
The city hallatrium was packed and rowdy.
“The over-under is three to one, Meg,” Art yelled out as people lined up to place their bets. I pushed through the crowd.
“Art,” I hissed, “you cannot run a gambling ring in the middle of city hall.”
“The man can’t make an honest living?” Hunter interjected behind me.
“This isn’t honest. It’s gambling!” I said, incredulous. “You can’t be mayor, Hunter, if you’re just going to encourage people to act like Harrogate is a Wild West frontier town.”
“I already put down five hundred dollars,” one woman complained to me. “You can’t go around shutting it down now!”
I threw up my hands.
Hunter looked me up and down then smirked. “Where’s your new bag?” he asked, like he already knew the answer.
“I’m not taking it out among the riffraff,” I said primly, turning to march to the front of the room.
Hunter huffed out a laugh. “Please. You hate it. Let me guess,” he said, matching his stride to mine as we walked to the front of the room, “Walter bought you a fancy bag in a bright color, and it’s not big enough.”
I gritted my teeth in irritation. “Did you also stalk him when he bought the bag?” I asked. “Why do you care so much?”
Hunter grabbed my shoulders, whirling me around to face him. “Walter is no good for you.”
“You don’t think anyone is good enough for me,” I retorted.
“That’s not true,” he countered. “I’m good enough for you.”
“You’re not.” I brushed him off. “You’re a terrible fixture in my life.”
He chased after me. “You wouldn’t know what to do with yourself without me.”
