Barbie and Em met in middle school with their other besties—Cress and Lauren—and they’d been peas in a pod. Barbie with her long chestnut hair, warm brown eyes, and early-sprouting boobs that were surprisingly real given their size and the ratio to her tiny waist.
Barbie’s mom always called her blessed, but Barbie said her figure gave her a backache. Really, boys weren’t very respectful to girls who were blessed like Barbie. Girls either, for that matter.
Em stood entirely too quickly, banging her knee against the desk. Dammit. She finger combed her hair, getting as many of the little knots out as she could and wiped at the syrup spot on her lapel from breakfast.
She even pinched at her cheeks for some color. She hadn’t exactly put on any makeup that morning since no one but Fiona was going to see her.
Working virtually was a good thing. Really, it was. She got an actual paycheck. She got to be home when Fiona got back from school. She could wear pajamas all day.
And also…okay, so she was only one day in, and it turned out she hated her job. But she loved her best friend.
She limped to the door and pulled it open. “Barbie!”
“Em!”
There was a great deal of hugging and “oh-my-gosh, this is really happening” chatter. They were opposites in nearly every way. Always had been.
Where Emmaline always said yes, Barbie had a healthy respect for the wordno. And in a world where Emmaline searched for her new normal, Barbie stood out like a single pink toenail. There was not a lot of normal happening in the room when she showed up.
But there was something about Barbie—and Em couldn’t say precisely what—that made everyone adore her. Always and forever, she was a favorite.
Except James. But he hardly liked anyone. He didn’t count.
The truth was, Emmaline had a pretty good radar for assholes. And while Barbie didn’t always understand when to stop talking, she was not a jerk. Not an intentional one, anyway.
Emmaline knewallabout intentional assholes. That’s why she’d decided to get away from California, so Fiona wouldn’t have to live her life wondering if those around her were genuine or not. Sometimes the bold strokes of celebrity brought out the worst in people. Em used to find those bold strokes intriguing and, after feeling invisible in her own family, she craved that kind of life and attention. But that was before she saw what bold strokes could do to people.
That’s why Emmaline was done with that phase of her life, for forever and ever and ever.
“You know anyone going by can see you through your window?” Barbie pointed at the windowpane. She sauntered in, tossed her purse on the sofa, and stretched like a Manx cat. “You’re gonna need a curtain.”
“Yep, and I probably should’ve set up my office on the other side of the house,” Em agreed.
The little house she’d bought was in an older, established neighborhood. The place was cute. That’s what the listing said, and everyone knew cute meant low square footage, but the opportunity for lots of character. The living room and kitchen area were linked by a small dining table and an island counter. The walls were taupe and beige with hints of cream. The previous owners had a whole kitschy nautical theme that wound throughout the house. It was…cute.
But not her.
The crisp pale paint palette itself was fine. Nothing intrusive, just walls. The space wasn’t as big or bold as their former Bel-Air digs, but she and Fiona had both agreed that the deep mahogany cabinetry and hardwood floors—original to the house—felt like home.
Someday maybe they’d paint the walls a fun color, but that was more of a year three or four type of activity, she figured. Once she was solid in her new life and living the dream. Which was…not yet.
“I’m still figuring things out,” Em said to Barbie.
Obviously. She gestured to her clothes. She probably should’ve put on daytime clothes instead of working in her pajamas. But, uh, why change when she’d just have to put them on again later?
Barbie only gave a cursory glance at Emmaline’s PJs. “They’re super cute.”
Barbie was all about fashion. Honest as all hell, she wore one of the lowest cut shirts Emmaline had seen in her life. Not to say that she was judgey about what people wore. She didn’t really care as long as they were happy and confident and the major parts were covered, but Barbie looked like she might have a nip slip at any moment. More so even than the lady Emmaline saw in Las Vegas that time who had electrical tape covering the important areas of her ta-tas.
“How’s your first day on the job?” Barbie asked, punctuating each word as she set down her shopping bags. She flicked her hair back over her shoulder.
“I’m exhausted,” Em said the first thing that came to her mind. She couldn’t quite get back to sleep after the whole fire shebang.
They settled in and she told Barbie about lighting the neighborhood dumpster fire. That’s what they did, as best friends. The talking, not the fires. Though, there was that one time—
“You lit a fire with the diddly-do you use on your vagoozlcookie?” Barbie asked, eyes huge and her expression frozen.
“Uh-huh.” Em dropped her face to her hands.
