You still coming?
He responded immediately.
Declan
Just finished some much-needed alterations. Be there in five.
I gave him a thumbs-up and slid my phone into my pocket.
“So, no fries and fry sauce,” Fallon concluded. “And no burgers with buns.” Fallon’s eyebrows bobbed. “But you know what’s almost as delicious?” She ran her tongue over her bottom lip. “I think we each need to take home a man tonight.”
“Oh, Fal, no,” I said. “Never do that thing with your tongue again. And no, thank you. There isn’t a man in this bar who’s my type.”
“Is anyone your type?” Riley deadpanned, referencing my nonexistent love life. “Or is there something you’ve been wanting to tell us?”
“I like guys. In theory. In reality, they’re too much work, okay?”
“Then you’re going out with the wrong guys.”
At those words, the back of my neck prickled.
We turned to find Nessa Blackwell standing at the edge of the table, her shiny blond hair perfectly styled, wearing a blood-red dress with a plunging V neckline that left half of each breast hanging out.
Good grief.
I was all for women doing whatever made them feel beautiful—facelifts, implants, whatever. Not my thing, but you do you. Nessa, though? She took plastic surgery to a whole new level and made sure the entire world benefited from the results.
As Nessa scooted in next to Briar, I whispered to Fallon, “What is she doing here?”
“About that…” Fallon’s look said,I’ll tell you later.
“No,” I hissed. “Tell me now.”
She pressed her lips together and shook her head.
Fine. I would get to the bottom of this myself.
I looked Nessa right in the eye and faked a smile. “I thought company policy said you had to be employed at leastsix months to attend The Standard.” She’d only been with DayGlow for two.
“Hmm.” Her shoulders lifted in a small shrug. “Six months, or you have to be a Glowette.” She picked up Briar’s Coke, took a long draw through the straw, and set it back down.
Was she saying…?
“You got the bump?” Briar squealed, bouncing in her seat. Her knee must’ve hit the table, because everything jolted, and her glass tipped over. The rest of us grabbed ours in time.
Nessa swore as icy cola landed in her lap.
“Sorry!” Briar grabbed a wad of napkins and helped Nessa mop herself up.
I glanced at Fallon, brows raised, asking if it was true.
She leaned in close to my ear. “Just found out an hour ago that she was promoted from background model to Glowette.”
A low curse slipped out, edged with disbelief. So this is why Fallon was grumpy. Somehow my best friend had kept the jealousy out of her voice. But there was no way she wasn’t unraveling inside. She’d been hustling for three years to be promoted to Glowette status—the equivalent of a supporting actress in a play.
But my second reaction, the dominant emotion, was relief. Fallon put on a tough-girl act, but she’d lived a sheltered childhood. The weight of the DayGlow ladder would crush her. She was safer right where she was.
I’d tried to tell her that once before, and all it did was stir up anger. And questions. Questions I wasn’t allowed to answer. Which only hurt her more. So I’d play it off and tell her what she wanted to hear.
