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Chapter 12
Abbi
‘Sparkling Sable.’
‘Sugared Chestnut.’
‘Shimmering Pearl.’
I wonder if I could get a job naming eyeshadows? I mean, I could do better than ‘Red Romance.’ Hmmm, ‘Pillow Talk’ is sort of cute. But what color is that? they must need loads of people working on names. Some of these palettes have thirty colors.
‘Deep Kiss’ is a metallic maroon. Yeah, I can see that. I’ve never really noticed how spicy some of these names are, especially the blushes—‘Nudegasm,’ ‘Fresh Orgasm,’ ‘Red Hot Orgasm.’ I need a fan. Or a margarita.
Or a night of hot sex.
Ha!
Once again, I’m spending my lunch hour shopping my worries away in Smash Beauty. A discreet sign in the window says they’re looking to hire a new manager. God, what a great job that’d be. Makeup and fun customers all day. I can’t handle the stress at Match X at the moment. The best thing I can think of to distract myself is to buy a new eyeshadow palette. And I’m particularly taken with one that’s all about shades of rose gold. I’ve done a pretty decent job of making up one eye with a hygienic sample, I think I’ll buy the palette. It has the fairly tame name of ‘Glistening Kiss,’ although I suppose that could be filthy in the right circumstances.
Ahhh. Why do I have sex on the brain? Maybe because the last time I was with a guy was months and months ago, and I’ve spent way too much time in the last ten days thinking about and spending time with one Dean Lawless.
Sexy, hot, single Dean Lawless.
And let’s not forget that little interlude last week in the alley. Or the almost-kiss at the airfield.
What a pity he’s a client, and I had to send him out on a date last night. And I’m sure this one will have been successful. I only feel slightly sick as the minutes tick by, and my mind runs through scenarios to explain why it’s taking so long for him to call me. They’re probably still together, rolling around in thousand-thread-count sheets. Her cheeks are probably sporting a color just like ‘Fresh Orgasm.’Hmph.
Vvvp, vvvp.
My phone’s tone inserts itself into my mental sex spiral, and I fish it out of my handbag, Dean’s name flashing on the screen. I squeeze my eyes shut, which must look pretty funny, because only one of them is made up. I guess I’m about to find out about last night’s sexploits, ready or not.
As I weave my way to the front counter, I answer the call, distracted and dreading what I’m about to hear.
“Hello, Dean?” I greet, trying to keep my voice light.
“Hi, Abbi,” he says in a flat tone. He doesn’t sound thrilled to be talking to me. Is that good or bad?
“How are you?” I ask cautiously, nervous about getting to the point.
“I’ve been better.”
“Oh really? That’s no good. Are you okay? How did the date go?”
“You set me up with a drunk.”Say what?
“Umm, care to elaborate?”
“Well, we organized to meet for drinks at eight, but Sandra got there beforehand with some friends from out of town and enjoyed herself a little too much at happy hour. By the time I got there, she was bombed. Utterly wasted and barely coherent.”
I gasp in a breath at his recounting of the date. No wonder he’s pissed. He continues, obviously, not done yet.
“Oh, that’s not the best part. The cherry on top was when she asked me to buy her a drink. I said no because she was already obviously drunk, so she took offense and tried to get the bouncer to throw me out.”Oh God. Send help!
The salesgirl rings up my purchase and bags it for me, oblivious to the disaster I’m dealing with. I grab the bag and hightail it out the door. I’ll have to finish the other eye on my next break.
“That’s terrible, Dean. I’m so sorry.” I have to sort this out. Otherwise, I’ll lose my job. What the hell is going on with Dean’s dates? I really put effort into them. “I’m going to fix this. I found one last possible match for tonight, so all’s not lost. Leave it to me, I’ll email you the details in an hour.”
“Listen… I don’t know—”
