Page 73 of The Last Special Thing

She left Madisson and stepped out of the car. Straightening her back and rolling her shoulders, she channeled Mirror Amelia from the acid trip. If anyone could pull it off, it would be her scary and overly confident alter ego.

A bell dinged overhead as Amelia shoved the liquor store door open, and she scanned her options. An older woman in her mid-forties who was grabbing milk, no. An elderly couple purchasing lotto tickets, definitely not. A man who appeared homeless standing in front of the energy drink cooler, maybe. He’d probably do it, but that was way too weird.

Then she found him. Her target appeared to be in his early thirties, with a thin mustache, and was reaching for a bag of Flaming Hot Cheetos. Not exactly a muscled hero, but he would do.

She adjusted her V-neck. Showtime.

“Excuse me, sir, can you do me a huge favor?” Amelia asked, her voice an octave higher than usual, as she approached him.

He took her in, eyes pausing where she knew they would. Her stomach turned.

“Sir?” he asked with a smirk, enjoying the word too much.

She forced a flirty giggle. “I forgot my ID, and I was hoping you could grab me a bottle of Pinot Grigio.”

They referenced the wine on a Bravo show she watched with Lauren. She had no idea what the differences were between wines. She mostly drank beer or mixed drinks, whatever was handed to her at a party. But her first day in L.A. was the occasion for something sophisticated. Adult.

She pulled out a $20 bill and handed it to him.

The man licked his lips, and Amelia smiled through her disgust.

"Sure, sweetheart. I’ll see you outside.” His voice was slow, and she was itching to put space between them.

“You’re such a lifesaver.” Amelia turned, feeling his eyes on her ass as she exited the store. Only when she was out of sight did she exhale and let her shoulders drop.

She had done it; Art would be proud.

Madisson caught her eye from the car a few stalls away. She shifted her thumb up and down in question.

Amelia thumbed up and mouthed, “I think.”

Madisson nodded, but her body was stiff.

A few minutes later, the man approached with a brown bag. "I hope you don’t mind,” he said with a slight grin. “I kept your change as a finder’s fee.”

“Oh yeah, totally,” Amelia said, reaching for the bag. He released it, but didn’t move away.

“So where are you headed next?” His eyes raked over her again.

“Oh, out with my friend. Great meeting you!” she said, then spun on her feet and beelined for the car.

She had left the engine running for Madisson’s music, which made it easy to get into the car and then quickly reverse. From the rearview, he kept his eyes on her. While she accomplished her goal, she also felt slimy. It had worked, but Amelia wasn’t disillusioned that it was a good idea.

“I’m definitely going to need to ask Art where he got his fake ID.” Amelia forced out a laugh.

Madisson bit her lip. “Are you sure that’s a good idea?”

Amelia’s face contorted in confusion. “Much better than asking random men to do it.”

Madisson averted her eyes and picked a new song on the playlist.

Amelia shrugged off her lack of agreement. Madisson didn’t need to worry about it. Max was nearly twenty-one, and all of his friends were older. Amelia didn’t have the same advantage.

When they pulled into the Crossroads parking lot, Madisson asked, “Do we need a wine opener?” She pulled the white wine bottle from the brown bag.

“Oh shit,” Amelia responded, taking the bottle from her. Relief filled her when she realized it was a screw top. She twisted it, breaking the seal, and returned it to Madisson.

Madisson wiggled her eyebrows devilishly at Amelia and took a sip from the bottle.