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Jules thought about this for a second. No packages had arrived. The little living room at home wasn’t crammed with tupperware or protein drinks or weird smelling candles or anything. Nope, she didn’t have a clue. With a sigh, she had to ask. “What kind of business?”
Cass grinned at Amelia and then they both said together: “Spray tanning.”
“Spray… tanning,” Jules repeated slowly. She squinted at them, saw Amelia’s stunningly white hand on the bar next to Cass’s dark black one and frowned. They weren’t exactly poster children for spray tans.
“It’s a big thing now,” Amelia said. “Just you ask Josh, all those Strictly Come Dancing people get spray tans. Everyone’s doing it, and it’s easy to get into.”
“We just have to go on a day’s course,” added Cass. “And the equipment’s cheap as chips.”
“We’re renting to buy,” said Amelia.
Jules sighed. “Is this like the meal in a bar project that left us eating grape flavored protein bars for six months?” she asked. “Or more like the aura reading thing that got Cass punched and meant I had to double lock the front door for months?”
“Neither,” Amelia said. “This is a solid business. We’ve got a business plan and everything.”
Jules shook her head. “Spray tanning,” she said.
“What of it?” asked Cass.
“It’s just…”
“Is it because I’m black?” Cass said. “You can say it. This is Whitebridge and the twenty first century, you can say I’m black. Hey Dave.” Dave looked up from the other end of the bar. “What do you call someone that looks like me?”
“Bit of a looker,” he said with a leer.
Jules laughed and Cass growled but looked secretly pleased.
“Nothing to do with being black or white,” Jules said. “And everything to do with me not wanting the living room being turned into a tanning parlor.”
“Which it won’t be,” Amelia said hurriedly. “The beauty of spray tanning is that it’s movable, we go where the demand is, we’ll—”
“Be needing the car during the week,” finished Jules. She sighed again, then shrugged. “I suppose you’ve already rented the equipment and all.”
“There’s work enough for three,” Amelia said.
“I’ve got a job,” said Jules. “One that I’m very happy with.”
“Well, you can just help out during your days off then,” Cass said as though the matter was settled.
Jules rolled her eyes but didn’t argue because Alea had stopped singing and was thanking the small audience in the pub while her guitarist walked around with a hat. There was the desultory clink of change.
Jules straightened up and flattened her blonde hair with her hands to try and make herself look a bit more presentable.
“Heartbreaker,” Cass whispered.
“Charmer,” said Amelia.
Jules grinned. They were both a pain in the arse. But they were her pains, and it was nice to have a little encouragement.
“Drink?” she asked Alea coolly as she walked over.
“Wouldn’t mind a half,” said Alea, her green eyes crinkling a little at the corner when she smiled her thanks. “I’ve got to drive home, Mick’s lost his license again.”
“Drink driving?” asked Jules, horrified that anyone at the pub would have served someone they knew was going to drive.
“No, literally lost it,” said Alea. “And we get stopped more nights than not when we’re driving around the countryside. Not worth risking the van for something as stupid as a lost license, not when we’re so close to the tour.”
Ah. The tour. Jules had been very carefully not asking about the tour for at least two months now. “Right,” was all she said. She put the glass in front of Alea and wondered what it would be like to trace her fingers over the dark tattoos that covered her upper arms.
