Total pages in book: 86
Estimated words: 88228 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 441(@200wpm)___ 353(@250wpm)___ 294(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 88228 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 441(@200wpm)___ 353(@250wpm)___ 294(@300wpm)
Those first three posts, though… How am I going to top them? Especially the last one, where I stood in front of Braden’s window wearing a sheet, a black mask, and Cherry Russet lip stain?
I have to top them. I have no choice.
I’m an artist. A photographer. This is what I do.
So why do I feel so inadequate?
Easy.
I know the answer, and I don’t feel like dwelling on it.
Braden and I didn’t make plans for dinner this evening. Maybe I should have accepted Tessa’s invitation to have drinks with her and Betsy. I could use some time with friends—with people who know me and accept me for being simply Skye. So what if I can’t dish about my boyfriend?
Too late now.
I jerk when my phone buzzes. Hmm. Not a number I recognize, but I don’t hesitate to answer. It might be opportunity knocking.
“Hello.”
“Hi, is this Skye?”
“It is.”
“Great. This is Kathy Harmon. We met at Bobby Black’s. Remember?”
“Oh, sure. How are you, Kathy?” And why are you calling me?
“I’m fine, thank you. This may sound a little out of the blue, but I was wondering if you were free for dinner tonight. My treat.”
If only Braden and I had made plans…
Now what?
“Sure. What did you have in mind?”
“I just want to bend your ear a little. About influencing.”
“I’m pretty new at it,” I say.
“Oh, I know, but you certainly know more about it than I do. How about Ma Maison at seven? I’m in the mood for some escargots.”
“Sure. Sounds good. I’ll see you there.”
“Looking forward to it. Ta!”
I text Braden quickly.
Your father’s girlfriend, Kathy, invited me to dinner tonight at seven. Will I see you later?
The three dots move.
Be at my place by ten. Don’t be late.
Okay, I text back.
Three hours for dinner with Kathy will be more than enough. Especially once she finds out I don’t know shit about influencing.
Chapter Forty-One
The escargots at Ma Maison are scrumptious. I take a selfie. Maybe the restaurant will appreciate a freebie. Their food is delicious.
Snails, anyone? The escargots at @mamaisonboston are fabulous! #yesieatsnails #escargots #frenchcuisine
“I find what you do fascinating,” Kathy says. “It’s so amazing that people are interested in what you’re eating.”
“I won’t lie,” I say. “It’s pretty surreal.”
“Like I said. Fascinating. Do you mind taking a selfie of us together?”
Publicity. That’s what she’s after. She’s not interested in influencing at all. But what will it hurt? The more I post, the more I seem like a normal person to the people I’m trying to influence. Why not post that I’m having dinner with a new friend?
“Not at all. Come around to this side of the table.”
She nearly jumps out of her seat, her head bobbing. “Do I look okay?”
“You look great. But don’t even worry about that. I edit all my photos. You’ll look great no matter what.”
“Perfect.”
I click a few photos of the two of us and show them to Kathy.
“Use that one.” She points.
I shake my head. “There’s a glare in the background. The third one’s the best.”
“But I don’t look as good.”
In reality, she looks identical in each one. “Don’t worry. You’ll look amazing when I’m done.”
“Oh, perfect! Don’t forget to tag me!” She smiles wide.
“What’s your Insta handle?”
Her cheeks flush.
I raise my eyebrows, waiting for her response.
“It’s at Harvard law hottie,” she finally says. “Underscore between each word.”
I hold back a chuckle. “Got it.” I quickly make the post.
“So how are things with you and Braden?” she asks.
“Fine.”
“He’s an amazing catch,” she says.
I’m not sure what to say to that, so I simply nod.
“His father’s a tiger,” she offers.
Yeah. TMI. I smile and pop another escargot into my mouth.
“When he first asked me out,” she continues, “I almost said no. I mean, you know. The age difference and all. But he’s so handsome.”
Am I supposed to comment? “Yes, he is.”
“My father about had a nervous breakdown when I told him, but my mother’s thrilled.”
“Oh?”
“Well, of course. Isn’t yours?”
“I haven’t really talked to her about my relationship with Braden.” Try not at all.
“You haven’t?”
“No. My parents live in Kansas.”
“So? You haven’t told them anything?”
I take a sip of water. “I’ve told them I’m seeing someone.”
Her eyes are round as dinner plates. “Someone? You’re not seeing someone, Skye. You’re seeing Braden Black.”
Kathy makes a point. Why haven’t I told my parents more about Braden? Or that I lost my job with Addie and am now influencing on my own? We have a perfectly fine relationship. I speak to them once every two weeks or so, but that’s it. They’re not really into email or social media, and neither of them has an Instagram account, so they know nothing about my recent posts.
It’s just that… It’s all so new. So…different. Especially the relationship with Braden. Not that my parents need to know the kind of sex we have. It’s not like I ever described my sex life with any other boyfriend.