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With Belle extremely busy at the library trying to do everything she can to keep it open, and with me spending pretty much every waking moment of the last week naked with PJ, Ariel has been handling things like a champ, answering hundreds of emails and fielding tons of phone calls. I’m a little freaked out that so far, I’m the only princess anyone has booked for a party, but it makes sense, since all of these people were customers at Charming’s the night I danced. My first job is next weekend in the next town over for a bachelor party, and as long as I don’t completely screw it up, I know it will only be a matter of time before word-of-mouth gets around.
It feels kind of strange that out of the three of us, I was the one to take that first leap and put myself out there. I thought for sure it would have been Ariel, but she’s been acting weird ever since that night at Charming’s. I’ve asked her a few times when she’s going to take her turn, and she just keeps telling me, “soon.”
The three of us decided that no one would take a booking until we’d each had our turn on Charming’s stage, to get rid of whatever insecurities we have and to get the practice in there before we did our own party. I updated the website yesterday by putting “Available Now!” above my photo, and “Coming Soon!” under both Ariel and Belle’s. It’s not like Ariel has any insecurities, nor should she because, good lord, her body is insane. But it’s still a rule we made, and we’re sticking to it. I thought for sure she would have jumped at the chance to get up there right after I did it, but no such luck. Even so, I try one more time.
“So, you want me to talk to PJ and have him put you on the schedule?” I ask softly as she continues answering emails and doesn’t look up at me.
“Nope. I’m good.”
With a sigh, I pull out a stool and sit down next to her.
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing’s wrong. I’m just busy. Your hot, sexy ass got us a lot of business, and I need to get through these emails,” she explains, but I know she’s lying.
“Ariel—”
“Uuggghh you’re annoying.” She cuts me off with a huff, slamming the laptop closed and staring at the top of it, still refusing to look at me. “I had to sell an entire closetful of my antiques this week to pay my mortgage. I know, it’s stupid and it’s just stuff, but it pisses me off. And don’t you dare feel sorry for me. We all have problems. Right now, I think it’s best I stay in the background so my bad mood doesn’t transfer to customers and scare them off. Focus your energy on getting little miss bookworm here to come out of her shell. Preventing the town’s library from shutting down and getting her the hell out of daddy’s basement is a lot more important than a bunch of old junk. Operation Free Belle From The Basement is now in full effect.”
We both glance over at Belle to find her nervously tapping the end of her pencil against the counter.
“Did you know female kangaroos have three vaginas? And the Romans used to clean and whiten their teeth with urine? Also, the Facebook Like button was originally planned to be named the Awesome button,” she rambles without looking up from the day planner.
“Belle, what’s wrong?” I immediately ask, concern lacing my voice as she resumes scribbling things on the calendar, still avoiding eye contact.
“Nothing is wrong. Why would you think anything is wrong? I’m fine. Everything is fine,” she replies with a tight smile.
I feel like the worst friend in the world. All this time I’ve been complaining about my own money troubles when Ariel and Belle are struggling just as much as I am, and until now, they haven’t said one word. Ariel doesn’t really talk about the antique business she used to own, and we always seem to congregate at my house, so I’ve never seen her things, but I know how hard it is to sell the items around you just to keep your head above water. I can only imagine how devastating it must be to her, knowing that these things were important to her. Things she spent years searching for and collecting. And don’t even get me started on Belle and how at twenty-five, she still lets her father run her life. She’s definitely not fine. Sure, she’s still spouting random facts off the top of her head, but for the first time, they have absolutely nothing to do with what we’re discussing, which is a huge red flag. She’s distracted and nervous and keeping something from us, but I don’t want to push her if she’s not ready to talk about it.
