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It’s noisy in the background. Feeling crappy, I figure it’s clear she’s already at the salon.
“Sorry… traffic is awful.”
“Knock it off, Tess,” she snaps. “I already talked to Brance.”
“Well, I guess we’ll be there in ten.”
“Fine.” The line goes dead.
I throw my phone in my purse disgusted as I lean back.
I glare at Brance. “Don’t even.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it.” Biting his lip, he looks out the window. “I’m assuming since you have a huge hickey, you will be wearing your hair down tonight?”
Horrified, I reach for my bag, trying to find my compact with a mirror. “What? No, no, no.” I gasp. Sure enough, there is a bright red hickey on my neck.
“Unbelievable!” Pulling my long, wet hair down, I shiver as I toss my compact back in the bag and cross my arms.
“Let’s not blame all of this on Reed. I had no idea you were so vocal.” His lips twitch. “I figured Reed would fuck like a champ, but my sweet, darling Tess…”
I cover his mouth with my hand. “Brance!”
He sticks out his tongue. I jerk my hand away. Both he and Jay start laughing again.
“Shh. I’m mortified. I had no idea you could hear us.”
He snorts. “Why do you think I was outside?”
Jay chuckles again. “Come on, Tess.” My eyes jerk to his in the mirror. “We’re just having fun. Don’t get upset. Your face is turning red.” He pulls over to the curb.
I put my hands to my cheeks. “I don’t want to talk about it! Thank God we’re here. I think I’d rather face Lana than you two.” I pull on the handle before Jay can even open it.
Lana is pacing on the side patio of the salon. Aluminum foil pieces cover her hair. A cigarette dangles from her fingers.
I stop, causing Brance to bump into me. Reaching for his arm, I say, “Oh God. She’s smoking.”
Lana glances over at us, and I wave enthusiastically. She glares and turns her back.
Brance chuckles. “Still want her over Jay and me?” I throw him a dirty look but grab his hand for support.
Taking out his phone, he starts typing. “I’m having a couple bottles of Cristal delivered. I don’t think we can make it through this day without it.”
I want to argue, but he might be right. Lana is going to be hysterical because of my mom. That and my dad coming out publicly that she is his mistress.
“Good thinking,” I whisper as we approach the reception girl to check in.
“Hi, sorry we’re late. Tess and Brance for Brigitte and Sal.”
She looks at her screen. “Of course. Can I get you two anything?” We look at each other.
“No, thanks. If a Hispanic man asks for me, please send him my way.” Brance flashes her his killer smile. The poor girl blushes and stutters a yes.
Brance extends his arm for me to go first. “Let’s make Reed happy and turn you back into a brunette.”Five hours later, Jay drops Brance and me off at the penthouse entrance. I’m exhausted and slightly tipsy. The day took forever. Getting my hair back to its original color was a challenge. Brigitte had to take a good three inches off my length to keep it healthy.
I’m pretty sure Reed is going to hate it. Twirling a silky piece of it in my hand as we ride the elevator, I try to imagine his reaction. Brance has gone from being a happy drunk with Lana to full-on having no filter. Which sucked earlier—Tilly had just finished her makeup when Brance informed Lana how bad it was going to be tonight, causing her to burst into tears.
I eye him as we ride the elevator. His head is resting on the mirror, his eyes closed. “Are you going to be okay tonight? We have to leave soon.”
He opens one pretty brown eye, reaching for me. “Come here, Pretty Girl.” I’m facing the bright light of the elevator as he inspects my face.
“Tilly did a fantastic job on you. Is it possible you have grown more exotic?”
“God, Brance you’re drunk! Please pull yourself together. I need your help tonight.”
I drag him out of the elevator into our lobby, which is not easy because we also have large shopping bags in our hands.
The Sex Pistols engulf us. Johnny Rotten’s screeching is so loud, the windows look like they are moving with the beat. Reed had some elaborate sound system put in. I can never figure it out. Besides, I like silence when I’m home—or opera.
“Reed! We’re home,” I yell.
“Christ, Tess, make it stop!” Brance covers his ears with his hands. “I’m going to get dressed.”
Unfortunately, the whole apartment is wired so he’s not going to get any relief when he shuts himself in the guest room.
I grab the remote from our coffee table and start pushing buttons like an idiot. The flat screen bursts to life.
