“Your mother?”
“No, your influencer. And it’s not an eagle, it’s my mother’s spirit animal. A vulture.”
I couldn’t help but laugh as Ford dragged me across the room toward Jessie.
“Ford, wait,” I hissed. “I don’t know her. I can’t just walk up to her and ask for money.”
“If you can’t, I will,” Ford said. “And besides, it looks like she’s got a sugar daddy boyfriend, so if she isn’t into it, maybe I can squeeze a few bucks out of him.”
That’s when I noticed that Jessie was standing with an older man—who could have easily passed as her father if not for the possessive hand he had resting on her ass.
“Well that’s something you don’t see on her Instagram,” I said dryly.
Ford shrugged. “Whatever floats your boat. Maybe he’s a yogi, too. He definitely looks like he’s got the whole zen thing down.”
I couldn’t help smiling. Very few things bothered Ford. A May-December romance between a semi-famous influencer and some old rich dude was barely a blip in his world.
“Off we go,” he said and took my hand.
That was nice. The hand-holding. Even if it was all for show.
Confident as ever, Ford strolled right up and introduced himself.
“You’re Jessie Flores, right?” he asked. “I love your IG account. You’ve really found a way to elevate yoga, open more eyes to the art and soul of it all.”
Trying not to gag, I nodded along with his smarmy compliments.
Jessie blushed, tossing her braids over her shoulder. “I hope so,” she said.
“Beautiful stuff,” Ford added. “This is my girlfriend, Emzee, by the way.”
She nodded at me, her smile dimming just a little, but mine bloomed. I hated that I got such a thrill out of this dumb, pretend game that Ford and I were playing.
“Emzee’s also a huge fan of your work,” Ford said.
“That is so flattering,” Jessie said.
“I’m a professional photographer as well,” I told her. “You have such a wonderful eye for color and form.”
Her smile ramped back up again. “Thank you,” she said. “This is my boyfriend, Jonathan.”
The older man reached out and shook Ford’s hand.
“Jonathan Albright?” Ford asked. “Of the Albright Foundation?”
My eyes nearly bugged out of my skull. The Albright Foundation was involved with nearly every worthwhile charity in Chicago. I’d been dying to get them interested in mine.
“Indeed,” Jonathan said, looking around the room appreciatively. “Your mother certainly knows how to throw a party.”
“That she does,” Ford said. “But enough about my mother.”
Everyone laughed, and Ford put his arm around me.
“Emzee runs an amazing charity that works with women transitioning into new careers in photography; perhaps you’ve heard of it. It’s called See Yourself.”
Jessie looked interested. “Wait, I’ve heard of them. That’s your organization?”
I nodded, grateful for Ford for teeing me up as well as he had.
