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“I told you they’ve got skills, girl. Shoulda just jumped one of them when you had the chance. Didn’t Theo take you home?”
“Yeah, the rude fuck barely even uttered a word to me.”
“I never said you had to have a conversation with him, Em.” I wink.
“Calli’s right. You are a bad influence.”
“On you, I highly doubt it.”
“Right, enough. I want to show you our costumes,” Calli says excitedly.
“Oh, I can’t wait,” Emmie sings, mocking Calli’s enthusiasm and clapping her hands like an idiot.
“You can be uninvited, you know,” Calli tells her, her tone deadly serious.
Emmie rolls her eyes.
“Let’s see what we’re dealing with.”
A wide smile lights up Calli’s face as she turns to the dress bags hanging on her closet doors.
I glance at Emmie, dread settling in my stomach.
“Oh, hell no,” Emmie announces. “Not a fucking chance.”
Turning back, I can’t help but burst out laughing at Calli’s costume choice for the three of us.
“Wait,” she says, lifting the hanger, “it gets better.”
“Better?” Emmie asks in pure disbelief.
She turns the bubblegum pink jacket around, and instead of ‘Pink Ladies’ like I’d expect to see, we’ve all got ‘Princess’ in sparkly diamantes.
“Fuck right off, Calli Cirillo. There’s no chance I’m walking out of this house wearing that.”
“But the skirt will look so cute on you,” I say, eying the black sixties style skirt with a pink dog on it.
“I don’t do skirts. No way. No fucking way.”
“Aw come on, don’t be a spoilsport. I thought it would be funny.”
“It kinda is,” I say, walking over to the jacket and running my finger over the word. “We are all princesses, after all.” I wink at Emmie.
“Yeah, and I’d rather they,” she says, referring to the guys, “didn’t know about my connections.”
“Dude,” Calli says, exasperated, “your surname is Ramsey and you ride a freaking motorcycle. They’re gonna figure it out if they haven’t already.”
“Whoa, someone’s been doing their research.”
“I know nothing about my life, I may as well learn something about yours. Your uncle is hot, by the way.”
“Cruz? Seriously, Cal. He’s way too old for you.”
“Yeah, I know. Still hot, though.”
“Just like your dad,” I add. “Now drink that pink shit and let’s get ready.”
“I’m not wearing the skirt,” Emmie sulks, obviously deciding that’s a fight she might win.
