“Wingman me, please!”
Frowning, I glanced at Charlye, who was lying beside me on the bed. After the reception, I’d walked her upstairs to her suite, and she’d asked me to stay until she fell asleep. We’d spent the last hour just staring at the ceiling, talking about random shit, and not talking at all. It was our thing. Back when we were kids, we called it everything and nothing. “What?” I asked.
She finally met my gaze. “I’m assuming that’s what you’ve been doing. Helping me with the Kelvin situation. Boosting my confidence.” She smiled. “Actually,thatshould be your name. Professional Confidence Booster.”
I chuckled. “Really?”
“I mean it. You’re like a confidence coach, always in my ear, encouraging me to do some different shit.” She snapped her fingers. “Like that movie with the man who feeds all the lines to the fine man who can’t talk?” She kept snapping and pushing at my arms. “You know what I’m talking about. The guy." She motioned to her nose. “Long nose. He was inFather of the Bride.” She struggled to stand up on the bed. Gesturing to the ceiling, she said, “He was in a tree or something. He had earphones so he could tell him what to say.”
I raked my gaze over her—her emerald green toes, her legs in those shorts she liked to wear to bed, her plain white tank. I knew she was self-conscious about her body, her curves. To me, she was perfect.So beautiful.
“They were at the fire station,” she blurted out.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Okay, that was a little lie because Ididknow the movie. I’dseenthe movie. Right around the time I’d decided to become a Wingman, I’d binged on several romance movies with my sisters, fromPretty WomantoPretty in Pink. I’d immersed myself into that type of shit because I felt like it would help me fine tune my already innate skills. My mother had always taught us to “study to show ourselves approved”. It’s Biblical,andtrue.
“Come on, Dex.”
I smiled as she acted out another part of the movie with sweeping hand gestures and different voices.
Finally, she fell back onto the mattress, out of breath. “You know what I’m talking about. One of those 80s films. She was inSplash, with Tom Hanks?”
Finally, I took pity on her and laughed. “Roxanne. With Steve Martin.”
“That’s it.” She beamed. “That’s you.”
She was right. I’d taken a special interest in that movie because it essentially gave me a blueprint for how I wanted to operate my business. Except, I didn’t waste time with earpieces. Most of my time was spent coaching women for a date, whether that meant tagging along, delving into their past to figure out why the fear of dating was there or advising them if a potential date or their current man was full of shit. Which was why I worked well with my sisters. Bliss was a matchmaker. Once she made the connection, she often sent her clients to me to get them ready to meet their possible Bae. Blake was The Breakup Expert. She referred clients once they decided to break up with their men and I helped them close the door. My oldest sister, Paityn, was a sex therapist and… Well, let’s just say, some women needed help in that vein too. Lastly, Dallas brokered marriages and negotiated pre-nuptials. While I didn’t really do as much with her clients, she often consulted with me when it came time to evaluate her cases.
“Dex!” Charlye exclaimed, pulling me from my thoughts.
“Hm.”
“Are you sleepy?”
“No.”
“Sure?” she pressed. “You did have bourbon tonight.”
“I’m good.”
“So will you do it?”
I sat up and picked up the bottle of water on the table next to the bed. “Maybe you need to drink more water.”
She gripped my shoulder. “I’m not drunk. Not even tipsy. I’ve just been thinking a lot.”
I glanced back at her. She looked like an angel with her hair fanned out beneath her head, like she was floating. “About?”
“I’ve wasted a lot of time on losers like Kelvin. I knew he wasn’t right for me. Nothing like I envisioned for myself. He’s a dork. He can’t dance. He wears flannel pajamas. He even sleeps in his socks.” She pushed herself up on her elbows and whispered, “He wears briefs. Tight ones.”
Cracking up, I said, “You’re silly.”
She let out the cutest giggle. “So not sexy. Then, he didn’t…”
“Didn’t…?
Charlye had never been shy about talking to me. I’d seen her that way around other people, especially her father, though. I loved that she felt comfortable enough to share her life.
She sighed. “I guess I’m just tired of investing so much time into these men who don’t do it for me. Do you know I’ve never been kissed until I could feel it in my toes? I’ve never even had an orgasm. I’ve been faking the fuck outta them since I started having sex.”
