‘Great?’ I scoffed loudly. ‘Working with you again is not the highlight of my life, that’s for damn sure.’
I took my hands away from my face; it seemed safe again, since nothing was popping out. ‘Do you seriously not know the difference between a face cloth, a hand towel and anactualtowel?’
‘Apparently not. According to you, anyway.’
‘Well, maybelearn, okay? Look into it. Google what a towel looks like, ask ChatGPTif you’re so confused, something, anything. Please!’
He suddenly stood up and took a big, exaggerated step. A very, very dangerous move, given the state of the towel. I yelped as that thing under the face cloth swung like an elephant’s trunk. ‘Cam!’ I grabbed a pillow off the bed and tossed it at him. ‘Stay back!’
‘You’re really going to have to drop that aggressive attitude when you become Amber’sBFF.’ He continued walking towards me, still merrily swinging away. ‘And you’re also going to need a . . . how do I put this? A bit of a transformation.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘You know, turning you from prickly, unapproachable and quite frankly rather unfashionable—’
‘Fashion is subjective,’ I snapped.
‘Exactly, and you keep choosing the wrong subject.’
‘Ha ha!’ I said in a flat tone. ‘How long have you been storing up that lame line in your arsenal of bad comebacks?’
‘For a while, actually. I’ve been waiting for the right person to use it on, and look . . . you’re here.’
‘Stop!’ I held my hands up. This time he ground to a halt. ‘And by the way, I have fashionable clothes. Have you seen my bikini?’
‘I think everyone saw that bikini.’ Cam looked down at me on the bed. I didn’t like that, so I stood up and made myself as tall as I possibly could.
‘I think it’s going to take more than a bikini for Amber to let you into her inner sanctum.’
‘And what do you suggest?’
‘Neon toenails?’
‘I’m not painting my toenails neon.’
‘Maybe a manicure, then. What about some false nails?’
‘I’ve never worn false nails in my life, and I don’t plan on starting now.’
‘If you want Amber to warm to you, you’re going to literally need to fake it. Fake nails, fake lashes, but not fake designer bags. Someone like her can probably spot one of those from across the island.’
‘You want me to buy a bag?’
‘Yes, a shiny designer handbag, and maybe a gold belt. She was wearing that gold beaded sarong yesterday. And those glasses – Versace, weren’t they?’
‘You want me to buy Versace glasses and a gold sarong?’
‘Well, it’s not like you’re short on resources. Your employer is soon going to be one of the wealthiest women in the country.’
‘Fine,’ I huffed. The idea of shopping sounded like absolute torture. I’d only recently been shopping with Philly, and that had completed my annual quota.
‘And what are you going to do while I’m being aesthetically tortured?’
‘I’ll be planting listening devices in their room, digging up extra dirt on him, you know, general recon,’ he replied.
‘So while I’m out suffering, you’ll be doing fun stuff,’ I shot back.
‘Fun? Crawling through windows and rigging a room with bugs?’
