Total pages in book: 142
Estimated words: 137443 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 687(@200wpm)___ 550(@250wpm)___ 458(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 137443 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 687(@200wpm)___ 550(@250wpm)___ 458(@300wpm)
Me: He’s not my man, and no, I didn’t send it to him. You better not either!
Stephanie: Making no promises. Scottie was meeting with me when the text came through. His jaw hit the floor. You may have converted him.
This time, I snort out loud, and my technician glances at me with amusement.
“My lawyer is trying to make a joke,” I chirp.
The entrance bell rings, but I’m too distracted thinking of a witty reply to look up. Just when the perfect reply comes to mind, a chill races down my spine. I peer to the wall of mirrors and catch a woman’s profile as she bends over the display of polishes. There’s no need to see her face to know who it is.
Constance Webber, with her best friend, Blaire. My eyes scan and see two pedicure chairs now open toward the front. For some reason, the blonde from earlier catches my eye, and I can’t miss the change in her attitude. The smiley, bright-eyed woman is now sitting stone-faced, her jaw set hard, her eyes blank, and she’s staring straight ahead. It strikes me as odd, but I don’t have to wonder long because, on the way to their chairs, Connie stops by the woman and sneers down at her, speaking loud enough for everyone to hear.
“Andi, funny seeing you here, considering I’m still waiting on that email.”
“I told you the last four times you asked. There is no information available.”
“And I told you to find a way to get it.”
I should look away, take measures to be invisible knowing Connie can’t possibly recognize me. It’s been a long time, and I’m a totally different person now. Hair, weight, shape, clothes, style… nothing about me is the same as the girl she once knew. But I can’t tear my eyes from the woman as she attempts to ignore Connie, who badgers her.
My eyes dash around the area, and for a split second, they cross Blaire. There’s a flicker of recognition, and she immediately bends forward to whisper something in Connie’s ear. I act fast, grabbing my earbuds out of my purse and popping them discreetly in my ears, then lean back and smile my best smile down to my technician as she smears exfoliator over my calves and wraps them in a warm towel. “That feels wonderful,” I tell her, not turning my head when the body stops beside my chair.
“Darby Graham,” Connie snarls, venom pouring from her voice, and causing heads to turn our way. Once again, I notice the look on the blonde’s face.
“Hello, Connie.” I throw my best saccharine-sweet greeting her way.
“Heard you showed your face back in town.”
“You heard right. Hello, Blaire.” I add the same sugar to the woman who used to be my friend.
She has the decency to look uncomfortable and taps Connie on the shoulder, gesturing to the chairs up near the front. Connie shakes her head. “I think these two chairs will do fine. You don’t mind, do you, Darby, if Blaire and I sit here? We have so much to discuss, and this area is much better to carry on girl talk.”
“Oh, not at all.” I wave to the chairs. “By all means, enjoy yourselves. I happen to be working.” I tuck my hair behind one ear to show my earbud and go directly back to typing on my phone.
My technician gives the arch of my foot a deep push, bringing my attention to her, where she’s raised an unhappy eyebrow. I jerk my head once to let her know I am fine and lift my glass for a refill. She speaks over her shoulder, and in a second, another employee is at my side, refilling my flute.
“I want a glass of that,” Connie barks snidely.
“Sorry, Miss Graham is receiving the VIP package. I can offer you water or wine for a fee,” the lady tells her, and I hiccup down the giggle.
“I’ll have wine,” Connie grates out, and I begin typing quickly on my phone, which has been vibrating like crazy for the last few minutes, all messages from Stephanie.
Me: Chill your ass down. Connie Webber and Blaire just walked in and proceeded to sit next to me. We can talk about my hair and makeup later.
Stephanie: Perfect fucking timing. I couldn’t have planned this better. Wearing that outfit, looking like you do… this is the beginning of your sweet revenge. Do you need me to call?
Me: No, I’ve got this. Talk soon.
Stephanie’s right about my outfit. I thought twice this morning about choosing the one-shouldered, asymmetrical, short romper, thinking it was too dressy. It’s not completely formal, but the Gucci label and price tag make it a little much for a day of pampering in Charleston. However, catching a glimpse of envy in Connie’s eye has made this the perfect choice.