Page 24 of Joey

“Which friend?” the scowling one asks.

And I take a risk here. Because it’s possible they know who all those women were outside, but not probable. So I say, “Megan Turrel. She works with foreign agencies. And she had a last-minute booking in Mexico. We’re roommates. So I came instead. But if you’d like me to leave…” I shrug my shoulders.

They picked me out of dozens of women. Me.

I have something they want. I look the part they need played.

And here’s the thing. Playing parts is actually what I do best.

“I’m happy to leave you to”—then I glance at the two other girls on my left and shrug again—“them. If you’d like.”

I get to my feet, take two steps towards the door, and Bossy says, “Sit down.”

I walk back to my chair and sit. Smiling.

“Names,” Bossy says.

“Amanda Hopkins,” the first girl says.

“Linnea Billings,” the other one says.

I tilt my chin up, smile, and say, “Brooke Alder.”

Bossy pushes a button on the phone and says, “Elaina? I need the résumés for Amanda Hopkins, Linnea Billings, and Brooke Alder, please.”

“Yes, Mr. Boston. I’ll bring them right in.”

Mister. Boston. Well, well, well.

That’s some news right there. I’ve heard of the Boston Brothers. Who hasn’t? I don’t know which one he is yet, I’m not that familiar with them. And why he’s here in the lobby offices of Bright Berry Beach Cosmetics hiring women from talent agencies, I have no clue.

But I’m about to find out.

CHAPTER SEVEN - JOEY

Hmm. There’s something suspicious about this Brooke woman. But before I can think about it too much, there’s a knock on the door and Huck opens it and takes the three résumés from Elaina.

I have to grudgingly admit that Huck’s idea to hire an actress to play my pretend girlfriend for this weekend visit to meet Maisy was a good one. At least, now that the paring down is complete.

The first two are both blonde. Very pretty. Very sexy too. They look like they could double as bikini models. The third—Brooke—I’m not so sure about.

She’s also pretty, though her hair is more brown than blonde. That dishwater color. With streaks of brown contrasting with the highlights. But she has a dark look to her. Kind of forlorn. Like one of those hollow-eyed girls up on designer-jean billboards.

Like she’s seen things. Done things. Regrets things.

Which I kinda like, if I’m being honest. The other two are very blonde. The first one looks like she spends a lot of time in the spray-tan booth and the second one is pale, like an ice princess.

But I’m not looking for a sexy bikini model. I’m looking for a sexy mom.

“Here you go,” Huck says, placing the résumés on the desk in front of me. Then he turns to the ladies and says, “First question. What did you do last weekend?” He points to Amanda and says, “Go.”

Amanda frowns at him, then me, eyes a little bit squinty. “What did I do last weekend?”

“That’s what I said,” Huck says. “And just so you know, quick answers with no questions are what we’re looking for.”

“Last weekend,” Amanda rallies, “I was shooting a print ad in the Appalachian Mountains for a new perfume line that will be released at Christmas and getting ready for an audition in a commercial.”

“And you?” Huck points to Linnea.