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"We'll deal with that then," she said firmly. "Or better yet…"
"Yeah, yeah," I replied. "Don't mess up. I've gotta tell you, and I know you won't believe this, but it's true." I took a deep breath for dramatic impact and said, "I ain't perfect."
"I'm shocked," she said dryly. She tilted her head slightly. "No one expects you to be perfect."
"The hell they don't," I muttered.
"Just perfect in public," she finished.
"No pressure then," I said. "Maybe I should live in a locker. You can drag me out for games, then stuff me back in again." I didn't try to keep the bitterness from my voice.
"That's actually not a bad idea," she replied. One of her eyebrows twitched.
God help me, but for a moment there I actually thought she was serious. Not about the locker, specifically, but keeping me under wraps in some way.
"That is a hard fuck no from me," I said. "No one ties Bam Clinton up or down. I'm like a bird, born to fly free and all that shit." Velvet handcuffs, maybe, but not rope.
"Some birds can't fly," she pointed out.
"Yeah, well, this bird can." I puffed out my chest like it had a whole lot of feathers on it. "No cages for me."
"Just a light wing clipping?" she suggested.
"Not even that." I looked at her through my thick eyebrows. "If you want my cooperation, you'll need to give me some room to move. Lots of it."
"You'll have all the room you need," she assured me. "You'll just need to attend a few events, smile, say a few words—we'll rehearse those—and the rest of your time is your own."
"Why do I feel like I got sent off to finishing school?" I asked dryly.
"Now there's another good idea," Grace said. "You could learn to walk with a book on your head."
I snorted. "What the hell for?"
She smiled and shrugged one shoulder. "I have no idea. I think it's supposed to make you keep your back straight, or something."
"All it would do is make me look like a total idiot," I said. Then again, it was me. I'd look good doing it if I did, which I wouldn't.
"Right." She picked up a pen from a cup on her desk which was covered in pictures of cats. "We'll put that in the 'maybe' pile."
"I prefer the 'hell no' pile," I said. "Right along with the locker, the clipping of wings and anything that involves me wearing a suit."
"About that," she said.
I groaned.
CHAPTER 6
GRACE
I checked my lipstick in the mirror as I stepped past. It looked as perfect as it had when I checked two minutes ago. My black evening gown, borrowed from Bec, was still not wrinkled, and still fit me. My silver pendant, in the shape of a love heart, hadn't fallen into my cleavage.
Yet.
My nerves were getting the better of me. Of course they were. This gala was about much more than Bam Clinton. Everyone who was anyone in Norfolk, and in fact the whole state, was here tonight.
I had pulled some major strings to get myself on the guest list, and to get Bam invited to speak. He wasn't the only one, but he was one of the biggest names on the bill. People had parted with good money to come and hear him, and to raise money for homeless people.
I walked past an open door and rubbed my hands up and down my arms. Winter was settling in. That was why this event was held tonight. If guests were reminded of how cold it would be to sleep on the streets, they'd open their wallets wider. In theory anyway.
