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“I was invited, thanks to my…stellar online talents.”
Take that!
Her ex shook his head. “Jesus, Harper, I never figured you’d amount to much, but porn? That’s your plan?”
She stared at him. If she wasn’t still standing, she would have sworn her bones had liquefied.
What the hell did he say?
Vance studied her expression, then burst out laughing.
Was he messing with her?
She had to set the record straight.
“I’m here because I teach neurodivergent learners how to read and write music through my online LookyLoo classes. That’s what I’ll be doing on a larger scale when I’m chosen as the next hot online performer,” she announced, then caught a fair amount of skin out of the corner of her eye. The gals in nothing but pasties and G-strings leaned against the wall, staring at their phones, as more scantily clad women sauntered around outside the ballroom doors.
“Yeah, sure, good luck with your neurodivergent porn gig,” Vance remarked with a smug twist to his lips, when the ballroom doors opened, and a bearded man emerged with a clipboard.
“Bonbon Barbie?” he called, holding the door open with his foot as he glanced back and forth down the hallway.
This was it!
She ignored the swarm of near-naked women and waved to the guy. “I’m here.”
“That’s your porn name? Bonbon Barbie?” Vance could barely get the words out. His body convulsed as he busted out laughing.
What was wrong with him?
Had his celebrity existence and the perpetual party lifestyle left him a few notes short of a measure?
She blew the guy off and hurried toward the ballroom.
The bearded dude eyed her costume, then checked his list. “Bonbon Barbie, you forgot to send in a video.”
What?
She could not be disqualified because of an error.
“You’re mistaken,” she said, her stupid voice rising a nervous octave. “When I accepted the invitation to audition, I attached a lesson I taught on coding sharps and flats with different colored highlighters.”
Confusion marred the man’s expression. “Sharps and flats? Isn’t that musical stuff?”
Was everyone in this city a few notes short of a full measure?
“Yes, it’s musical. I’m a music teacher.”
The guy’s brows knit together. He frowned, then angled his body toward the ballroom. “I need a little help out here.”
A tall man with pasty skin and slicked-back hair joined them. “What’s the problem?”
The bearded guy nodded toward her. “Bonbon Barbie says she’s a music teacher.”
The tall guy sucked in a tight breath and cringed. “Did you say Bonbon Barbie?”
“Yeah, it’s here on the list. But there’s an asterisk next to her name,” the clipboard dude supplied.
An asterisk? Why would they put an asterisk by her name?
