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I put my earbuds on and test out another embroidered pumpkin spice latte. It turns out perfectly. Spending some of the money from Timothy’s parents on this machine was a good investment.
It’s nice to daydream about the lease, but I won’t take it. My to-do pile shrinks as the finished pile grows, and maybe I’m not ready yet, but I’m moving in the right direction, one step at a time, the way it should be. I’ll leap one day when it isn’t so far.
Timothy comes up behind me, bending to kiss me on the cheek. He pulls out my earbud. “We’re going to have a few people over. That okay?”
“Of course.” I stretch my arms up and around his neck and he nuzzles into the crook of mine for a bit before Nic calls him away. I could use a break anyway. Since I know Timothy and the kind of friends he has, I put my embroidery machine in the garage so it doesn’t get broken during an impromptu game of in-house football.
It’s not just the machine, though. My stuff is everywhere. Boxes of finished and unfinished products are stacked in corners, cluttering the coffee table. My foldable sewing table. Bolts of fabric and plastic containers filled with notions. It’s all got to go.
Timothy and Nic help me move the bigger things but when people start arriving, Timothy leaves to play host and Nic gets to work making drinks, leaving me with a handful of smaller boxes.
Timothy and I have very different definitions ofa few people. These aren’t just stunt people, either, although they’re here too. There’s a social media influencer, a couple of models, a washed-up pop star, a few actors, and a couple of young athletes. A lot more people I don’t recognize.
Almost everyone is dressed in something fashionable and I’m hauling boxes in yoga pants and an old T-shirt.
I drop the last box in the garage and run upstairs to change clothes. When I come back down…
Three women—the influencer and a couple of models—are wearing my thongs, and nothing else. The box they found is open, panties all over the floor, while they pose for selfies.
I can’t sell these thongs and who knows how many from the box they’ve tried on. I’m going to have to start over, sew another fifty.
My chest tightens and I don’t know what to do. Most people would kill to get their clothes on these women, but if my brand is recognized in their photos…
Most people don’t hyperventilate at the thought of an already long waitlist of customers exploding.
I can’t afford to go big before I’m ready. What do I do?
Timothy is nowhere in sight, and I don’t know if that makes this better or worse.
Nic hands me a drink. “I told them not to.”
Panic hasn’t made me stupid. I raise an eyebrow at him. “You tried to stop a trio of attractive women from getting naked?”
He looks at me likereally?“No. Of course not.”
I want to punch him in his too-handsome face, but I settle for holding a grudge. “Do you have any idea how much money these women cost me?” I can’t demand they pay for the thongs. People like them get this shit for free and I should be grateful they liked them enough to notice.
“They’re thongs.” Nic sounds exasperated. “How much can they cost?”
“You were married to a lingerie model, what do you meanhow much can they cost?”
“Fine. I’ll pay you. Remind me later.” He starts to walk away but stops, pointing at the influencer. “She could make you a million with these pictures.”
I want to throw something at him. “Not if my brand blows up, I can’t produce, and I get a ton of backlash.”
He shrugs, spots Timothy wrestling a massive alligator floaty toward the pool, and heads that way.
I follow. I make it two steps before Danny crushes me into a hug. “Mina!”
Ugh. I want to scream. I want to grab my thongs, run to my room, and spend the night hiding.
“So, it finally happened, huh?” Danny says, holding my arms and studying me. “Always knew it would. You two have been circling each other for years. I’m happy for you. Take care of him, yeah?”
Then Danny’s gone, following my new thong-clad friends out to the pool. They jump right in the water and start splashing each other—at least until Danny strips to his boxers and cannonballs right in the middle of them.
Serves them right.
I drain my drink, then grab the box and the thongs that have spilled all over the floor and stuff them into the garage, away from my other stacks. I can’t bring myself to put all that hard work into the trash right now.
