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“Well, then … carry on,” he says, but I know he won’t back down that easily.
“As if we need your permission.” Jo adds.
They turn around and move toward the other side of the store, with Carol and I following closely behind.
“Guys, I appreciate you sticking up for me, but you’re gonna get me in trouble.” I whisper. “Mr. Doyle can’t say anything else to you, but the moment you both leave, he’s gonna take his anger out on me and Carol.”
“Emmy, you need a new job. Seriously. That man is awful to you. What are you still doing in this place?” Jo asks me. “How many times have you said that you want to be a freelance makeup artist? What happened to that dream?”
“Nothing happened to that dream, Jo! But it costs so much money! I’d have to buy an entire kit, invest in advertising, and get my name out there. Where am I supposed to find that kind of money? On the street?”
“I told you a million times that I’d be more than happy to give it to you! And you know Evan would give you the money as well!” she says.
“Come on. I don’t need charity from my rich friends, thanks,” I tell her. “And Evan—oh man, I was waiting for us to meet so that I could tell you guys in person. I had breakfast with him a few days ago and he…” I stop talking when I notice that Carol is, once again, eavesdropping.
She’s leaning against a glass counter, not even hiding the fact that she wants to hear what I have to say. “Are you guys talking about Evan? Oh, great! I love gossip!”
Larisa, Jo, and I stare at her for a moment, not sure what to make of this.
“Umm … not at the moment, Carol. We were just about to look at some of these perfumes here. So, which one did you want for your wedding day, Larisa?” I ask, trying to take the conversation in another direction.
“How about this Chanel one?” she answers, catching my drift.
I take the bottle, and spray some on her wrist.
She takes a whiff. “Mhm … great, I smell like toilet cleaner. Seriously. Who wears this?”
“What’s the problem? You don’t want to smell like a fancy toilet on your wedding day?” Jo jokes.
“I think I’d rather smell like a fancy, you know, bride!” Larisa answers sarcastically.
“Booooriiiiing,” I add and we all giggle.
“How about this Gucci one? It has notes of bergamot, vanilla, uuummm … peaches … here, let me spray some for you,” I say.
Larisa puts out her hand. “I like it. I don’t know if I love it, but I’m definitely into it. Smells a little like … fruit cake?”
“I was going to say my Aunt Myrna’s fruit punch.” Jo smirks.
“Who invited you today?” Larisa laughs. “Don’t you have some billionaire wifey duties you need to be doing right now?”
“I do, but I put them all off for you.” She smiles.
“Lucky me.”
“Guys, come on, let’s focus,” I tell them as I see Mr. Doyle watching us like a hawk nearby.
“So, what were you saying about Evan?” Larisa whispers to me.
“Oh, just that we had a very interesting conversation a few days ago. He told me something that took me entirely by surprise.”
Jo approaches us and leans in, curious to hear more. “What did he tell you? Are they experimenting on people at that hospital of his? Because I read something on Reddit that said they’re—”
“What? No! That’s not what I meant, Jo. And stop believing everything you read on Reddit.” I roll my eyes.
“Fine, but you should know that the experiment thing is real. And you should totally ask Evan, since he works there,” she says.
Both Larisa and I frown at her.
