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“Best believe I won’t forget that,” Jaxson said with a laugh.
They went their separate ways. Jaxson walked back into the jewelry store, heading for the back room that held the security cameras.
Gabby briefly looked up, smiling. “How’d your conversation go? Who were you talking to?”
Jaxson chuckled. He knew she couldn’t hold back too long, inquiring more about his supposed call. Yet, it wasn’t funny. He didn’t want to say Dane because more questions would emerge. But he also didn’t want to lie. He had never lied to Gabby in his life, and he wasn’t about to start now.
When he didn’t immediately respond, she arched a brow but said nothing. From there, they went back into work mode and ignored the elephant in the room. For the first time, Jaxson didn’t share with her.
He always shared with her. His thoughts, how he was feeling, his irritations. Everything.
Man, he would so get back at Dane for this.
One, making things awkward between him and Gabby.
Two, he didn’t know shit about throwing a party. A small—epic—one at that.
3
“Hold still. I know you get antsy when I get near your eye, but you have to hold still,” Mia said delicately as she applied a bit more mascara. She had already completed the eye shadow. The mascara was the worst for Stella every single time. And she never allowed eyeliner to be applied. After one serious blowup about it, no one ever asked her again.
She knew Stella hated doing her makeup. Some liked to call her a prima donna because she always asked others to do it for her. Most of the performers did their makeup without an issue, unless the production had a huge star set to appear. Then, of course, they had a team of people who did everything for them.
But Mia understood. Stella just wasn’t comfortable doing her makeup. Mia never asked why, and Stella never offered a reason. Unlike other people, Mia wasn’t going to pry. She knew fear when she saw it. She had lived it once upon a time, and she would never stand by and let someone live in fear if she could easily do Stella’s makeup for her.
Stella sat rigid in the chair as Mia did a few more brushes to give her eyes a nice full look. Then she stepped back, shuddering in unison with Stella, but for completely different reasons. Stella trembled, grateful the makeup session was over. Mia shivered because sometimes memories popped up when she least expected it. Thinking of Stella and her fear made her own experiences spring forth front and center. Her childhood wasn’t pretty, and no matter how hard she tried, it was difficult to forget.
A slow smile emerged on Stella’s face. “As always, you do a magnificent job, Mia.” Their eyes met through the mirror, appreciation shining from Stella’s depths. “You’re too good to me. You have no idea what it means to me. If I ever hit the big leagues, I’m stealing you. You’re coming with me.”
Mia chuckled, as it was something quite a few people had said to her. She’d probably make more money hiring herself out to people who wanted her services rather than working for the small theater, but she loved the older couple who ran the productions. They were the best artistic directors she had worked for thus far. Not too picky about things, but also had a good sense of business on their shoulders. They budgeted well, but at the same time put out great productions every single season.
“I love strawberry wine and white chocolate-covered pretzels. Just saying,” Mia said with a wink.
Stella stood up and turned around with a wicked smile. “Lifetime supply. Just saying.”
She wouldn’t say she could be bribed, but if Stella gave her a lifetime supply, she’d follow her to the ends of the earth. She could live off white chocolate-covered pretzels. No joke. She always carried some with her in her tote bag. Gabby always teased her, asking if she had gotten sick of them yet. Of course, being the bestie she was, Gabby had her pantry stocked with plenty of bags in case Mia needed a refill.
“Well, I have to pop in with Gerald. Have a great night.”
“You are a true gem, Mia. Truly.”
Mia never knew how to respond to compliments, although people loved to give them to her. Her usual response was a gentle smile and a slight nod. No words ever seemed good enough. At least, not in her mind. She applied makeup on very rare occasions as it technically wasn’t part of her job description. She helped with the wardrobe as well. Sometimes, because she couldn’t resist when someone asked for her assistance, she even helped set up the stage. But her main job was creating the beautiful designs the performers wore. Every time someone walked out on that stage wearing something fabulous and perfectly fitting the part, that was all her. She did her job, and she did it damn well. Not that she’d ever admit that out loud or be that cocky to anyone, but it was the truth. In her eyes, at least. By the compliments from other people, she’d have to say they agreed as well.
She finished with Gerald, helping to put on his wig that he always had a hard time keeping on, no matter how many bobby pins they used. It was the constant shoving a finger underneath it to scratch his scalp that always knocked it sideways a bit. She threatened—in a nice, soft-spoken voice—she’d glue it to his head if he didn’t knock it off. Which, of course, garnered a smile and red cheeks from him that Mia feared was partly from embarrassment and partly from attraction. He was a sweet guy but not her type.
Helping with wigs also wasn’t in her job description. What could she say? She didn’t mind helping others, which wasn’t a secret around here. Most people came to her for this or that, and she rarely said no. And if she did decline, she always had a good reason. Of course, she didn’t always tell it to the person’s face, but she had a reason, nonetheless.
As she grabbed her tote, said good-bye to a few people as she headed outside, she wondered what her type of guy was.
She had dated a lot of guys. The sweet, down-to-earth kind. The cool, calm, collected kind. The expensive, I-have-too-much-money kind. The jerk kind. The super I’m-bad-don’t-bring-me-home-to-your-parents kind. No worries there as both her parents were dead.
Her life had irrevocably changed when her mother died. A part of her soul had withered away when her mother took her last breath from the cancer that broke her body.
Although, it had never broken her spirit.
Not like her father had.
And him—a day didn’t go by where she wasn’t thankful he didn’t grace the earth anymore. Not that she’d ever voice that to anyone. Not even Gabby, and she had been there when the world righted itself from a wrong.
