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She sighs, defeated, and I know I have her. “What’s the event?”
“A stupid fucking charity ball. It gets held every year. It’s actually an auction, I think. Who knows, I just donate. All the proceeds go to a charity that has been chosen by the organizers. I think this year it’s for homeless kids and shelters. As CEO, I’m expected to go.”
“Well, you haven’t given me much choice, then, have you? When is it?”
Fluttering my eyelashes, I smile to give it the full effect, and promise that she can have anything that she wants. “This Saturday.”
“And will the sexy Everett go too?”
“Of course. We’re going together. I’ll also need you to do my hair.”
“Done. Come by late afternoon. You’re gonna be a knockout. Not that you aren’t already, but I’m talking drop dead fucking gorgeous,” she says before taking a big sip of wine.
“Was me telling you that I was going with Ev all you needed to be on board?”
“Reagan, Everett Brooks isn’t just a man. He is the man. I don’t think you need me to tell you that.”
She’s not lying. Everett has been so successful with his company, he made it on the front cover of one of New York’s biggest magazines. He was one of the most eligible bachelors in the business. Not anymore though.
“You know what you could do for me? Find me a wealthy man. I’ve heard these things are full of them, so it shouldn’t be too hard.”
“Rue, no. I’m not setting you up a date with a stranger, wealthy or not.”
“You could find me a sugar daddy. I wouldn’t have to work again…”
“You, not work?” I laugh way too much at that.
She scowls at me. “If the right man came along, I could give everything up and become his personal sex slave.”
“Oh please, you wouldn’t give up your salon if the guy was a fucking billionaire. You forget how well I know you, Ruby Spencer.”
“And no one is a bigger workaholic than you, Reagan Quinn.” Her tongue pokes out from between her lips.
“Mature. But I agree with you on that. Wanna order pizza?”
“Good call. I’ll open another bottle of wine too.”She went into my kitchen and grabbed another bottle from the fridge.
“So, you never actually gave me an answer. Will you come shopping with me?”
“Oh, for fuck’s sake, Reagan. Yes, I’ll go, but you owe me big time for this.”
I launch myself at my best friend and hug the shit out of her. “Love you, Rue.”
Twenty-Eight
Reagan
Stepping into my long blue dress, I inch it up the length of my body, threading my arms through the straps. It’s a long royal blue off the shoulder bodycon dress with a split sitting mid-thigh. As soon as I saw this dress, I knew it was the one. I didn’t want any kind of lines to be seen so I left my bra off, but I also couldn’t wear panties, because no matter what type I tried on, you could see panty lines. Not that Everett will mind anyway.
Before I go get my shoes, I plug my curling iron in to heat up. As I looked around the ten-by-twelve space, I can see how it would seem a little crazy to any normal person. All forty pairs of heels are in their own little pigeon-holes, one side contained all my evening clothes, and the other my work clothes. There is a chest of drawers for all my casual clothes and underwear. On each wall is a full-length mirror so I can get full view of everything I wore before I stepped out.
I grab the heels I want and set them by the door before doing my curls.
I spray some Paco Rabanne around my neck, put on some simple jewellery and I was done.
My cell chimes with a message and I assume it will be Everett making sure I’m not running late. When I look at the screen, I see that it’s from Ruby: Don’t forget to give any sexy and wealthy men my number.
I can’t help but giggle at her insistence.
