Page 59 of Billionaire’s Game

Chapter Eleven

“I can’t believeI’m wearing these,” Emmaline said as she pulled on the edges of her shorts. They were super short. I was surprised that her butt managed to stay in them.

“They’re hot pants. They’re supposed to be short,” Misha responded as she shifted uncomfortably in her shoes.

“I feel like my privates can’t breathe.”

“They’re not supposed to feel comfortable,” Misha said again, “They’re supposed to be sexy. Stop complaining.”

Misha then started yanking at the fabric of her dress which kept riding up her thighs. “This stupid dress won’t stay down.”

“Oh, so it’s alright for you to complain, but not me. Point taken,” Emmaline said as she fought with her shorts.

“Ladies, ladies, let’s not fight,” Lacey said, stepping around the car. We all looked at her and couldn’t help but laugh. Ever since she had shown up dressed like a member of the Bee Gees from the seventies, we couldn’t keep it together.

She had on a curly blonde wig, tight bell-bottom pants and a shiny, blue metallic shirt. She was also about six inches taller since she was wearing platform heels.

“My feet already hurt,” she complained. “You guys are lucky you’re wearing go-go boots.”

“Yes, I’m lucky that my feet are covered, but my butt might fall out any time.”

“Well, if it falls out, I’ll tell you,” Lacey said, clearly tired of the complaining.

Emmaline was Lacey’s other best friend whom she’d met in college. Emmaline, Misha, and Lacey were a dynamic trio and closer than most sisters I knew.

I adored them and seeing them all bicker with each other brought back fond memories.

“It would be a fun break from the kids, you’d said,” complained Misha.

“It’s going to be so fun, you’d said,” complained Emmaline.

“And instead we look like very old and very unsuccessful prostitutes,” finished Misha, finally giving up on tugging her skirt down. I directed my eyes away. She was dangerously close to flashing everyone.

Lacey tossed her hands up. “Well, this is what happens when you don’t go with me to pick out your costumes. I gave you guys a chance and you were all like, ‘Just pick whatever, Lacey,’” she said in a whiny tone. “So I picked whatever.”

“As punishment—” Misha said.

“You know, I don’t like your tone. I’m giving all of you a break from suburbia and this is how you thank me?”

“I thought you were going to get me a fairy costume?” Emmaline whined.

“Yeah, and I thought I was going to be Gene Simmons from Kiss,” Misha said, folding her arms over her chest, which made her dress rise a tiny bit more. Yep, she was wearing polka dot panties, and by the end of the night everyone in the building would know it.

“You guys. It’s a seventies themed party. None of those costumes would have made sense.”

There was more grumbling of unhappiness when suddenly Lacey stomped her foot, making me laugh, and said, “Listen, we’re not here for us. We’re here to provide some moral support. Ok. Is that clear?”

Emmaline, Misha, and I looked at each other and then back at Lacey. “What are you talking about? Moral support for who?”

Lacey pointed at me. “For Lesli. Do you guys just tune out when I talk or something? I mean this is ridiculous.”

“What? Why do I need moral support? What are you even talking about?” I was totally caught off guard. I felt like I spent nearly every day since leaving West Virginia caught off guard in some way or form.

“Because your best friend, you know, Violet, is dating your man!” Lacey said in disbelief as if she couldn’t understand why I wasn’t more upset.

“What?” Misha growled. She looked ready to fight someone.

“Seriously? What kind of friend is she?” Emmaline added. “Stealing your man!”