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“I’m sure. I know you’re going to do great though. You’re a successful businessman; if you can’t squeeze money out of these people by telling them about sad kittens and puppies then no one can.”
He shrugged. “I know, but I wanted you by my side. Partners in crime.” His stare lingered on her mouth. Heat sizzled in her veins at reminders of their encounter.
She cleared her throat. “Businesspartners in crime,” she reiterated. Although she had to admit the line kept blurring. Some days when she was telling him what to do, she could swear he was enjoying it too much and then she enjoyed him enjoying it and now it was getting messy.
His expression shuttered. “Of course,” he replied.
She turned away from the expression on his face before it bothered her too much and carried on filing invoices. “I’ll see you in the morning then.”
She couldn’t face his disappointment, or she would blurt out the truth: that she would see him in just a few short hours. “Have a good night. Can’t wait to hear about it tomorrow.”
Then he was gone.
She checked the time and her stomach clenched with anxiety when she realized there was only a couple of hours until the event. Her brain rejected the idea of socializing and crowds but she just needed to do one thing at a time to make it manageable. And the first thing was closing up the shelter and going home.
She checked Parfait had enough food and her kittens were all fine. At three weeks old they were moving around and squawking now. Parfait had taken such good care of them and by the time they were ready to be separated from their mom, the new cattery would be up and running.
Her throat thickened at the thought of saying goodbye to them. “This is why we don’t name you, because we get attached,” she grumbled as Parfait butted her head around Rebelle’s hand.
“Right, the first step was coming home. Second step, shower. You can do this.”
She lathered up, remembering to shave as multiple body parts would be on display this evening. The thought caused the sharp clenching in her stomach again and she tried to distract herself with some breathing techniques and ended up choking on water.
“Third step, clothes.” She headed to her drawers and tugged them open and as she glanced down feeling a supreme sense of satisfaction at seeing her own clothes bundled inside. She dressed, not adding a bra as instructed by Justine so that by the time her dress was on, any strap marks would have disappeared.
“Fourth step, leave and go to Justine’s.” She swallowed a few times, her throat drier than the Sahara. She grabbed her purse and keys, kissed Parfait goodbye and gave herself a pep talk during the drive to Justine’s.
When she arrived; chaos greeted her. Taylor was walking around half-dressed. Christy had one eye made up and her hair in curlers. Justine was fully made up but sat in pajamas eating pizza.
“She’s here!” Justine called around a mouthful of meat feast.
Taylor and Christy squealed, and Rebelle was sucked into the chaos. Pizza was shoved in her face, music was blaring and champagne was in front of her. She watched in awe as the women did their hair and make-up, amazed and envious of the ease with which they did it. The whole atmosphere was joyful, girly and feminine and Rebelle lapped it up, feeling like she was part of something, like she belonged somewhere.Finally.
“How do you want your hair?” Christy asked, clacking the heated tongs.
“Curl it, Rebelle. It’ll look so cute!” Taylor piped up.
“Yes! It’ll show off your jawline and earrings too,” Justine added.
Rebelle tugged on her earlobe. “I don’t have pierced ears.” Each woman stopped what they were doing and slowly turned to her. The music dropped at that moment and there was a significant silence.
Taylor turned to the others with a glint in her eye that filled Rebelle with apprehension. “I’ll do it, I did my own.”
Christy’s eyes also filled with that same glint. “À laGrease!”
Unease skittered through Rebelle. “What’s a grease?”
Christy snorted in disbelief. “How have you not seenGrease?”
Rebelle’s anxiety and stress bubbled over, causing her to word-vomit something she would have rather kept to herself. “Because my husband locked me in the house all day, every day, and never let me watch anything that wasn’t sport or violence…”
Tension filled the room after her revelation, and she panicked that she’d made things so awkward. She was having a nice time and now she’d ruined it because she hadn’t learned not to blurt out inappropriate things in polite company when she was stressed. She wondered if she should start grabbing her things.
“Fucking bastard!” Taylor spat, surprising Rebelle with her vehemence.
“If I could, I’d kill him all over again,” Christy growled.
Was this what it felt like to have someone on your side? Someone who had your back? A family? Rebelle couldn’t help it, she burst into tears.
