No Pink Caddy (ACE Book 1)

by Layne Harper

  “Kiss me, Tripp. Kiss me like there’s no tomorrow.” Has there ever been a worse line? I’m trying here. I’m pleading with my heart to feel something. Anything. Just a spark will do. One flicker and I will never talk to Aaron again.

  “You sure?” he asks as he sits down next to me.

  “Absolutely.” I nod in confirmation, looking much more confident than I feel.

  Awkwardly, he scoots closer and places his left hand on my hair. I lean into his touch. We both turn our heads in the same direction and bump noses. Then we try to correct and both go the other way.

  His breath smells of champagne and vanilla. It’s okay. I can live with that.

  We both lean forward and our teeth clank together as his tongue slides in my mouth. My tongue twists with his and they stroke each other, almost as if they’re petting. Please let me feel something.

  There’s no romance. No sparks. No fireworks. There’s not even an ounce of this being okay. I feel as if I’m drowning in spit.

  I end our kiss by pulling away and grasping his dear face between my palms. His eyes look dreamy, and I pray I’m just imagining things and that he didn’t think that was good. “See, Tripp? No chemistry.” I kiss the tip of his nose. “You and I were always meant to be just friends.”

  He leaps to his feet and shoves the bottle of champagne at me. I grasp it as it sloshes out of the bottle and onto my dress.

  Tripp storms out of the pool house with the parting words, “A good marriage isn’t based on fucking, MK. It’s friendship, and I don’t understand why you can’t see how great we could be together.”

  The French doors slam so hard behind him that the windows vibrate, and so does my soul.

  “God, my life,” I mutter. In the span of four days, the two people closest to me have essentially said the same thing. Tripp just echoed Bella’s words. At thirty, do you have to start settling? Bella seems to think so. Tripp is perfect on paper, but the thought of kissing him like that every night for the rest of my life makes me queasy. My head falls into my hands as his words rattle my bones. Maybe Tripp is right. A marriage isn’t based on sex, but there has to be some sexual attraction, right?

  I take two more gigantic swigs from the bottle and pour the rest down the sink. It’s sad saying goodbye to such yumminess, but three-fourths of a bottle of champagne before Grandmother has even joined her event is a horrible idea.

  Dragging myself back to the ballroom, I feel like the worst human being alive. My family already adores Tripp. Why can’t I have feelings for him? My life would be so much easier if I could convince my brain that Tripp was the person that I was supposed to spend the rest of my life with.

  As I enter the ballroom through the commercial kitchen entrance, I hope against hope that the fire alarm has gone off and all the party-goers have been evacuated. I’m not wishing for a fire, just a false alarm.

  Of course, this doesn’t happen, and the party is still in full swing. Maybe I should wish instead that I have mutant powers like one of the X-Men. I’d want to be able to camouflage myself to the surroundings. That way I could people-watch without being caught.

  I hang out on the periphery of the crowd. The U.S. Senator for the great state of Louisiana is talking to an author who has made a ton of money writing vampire books. I’ve met her before. She’s eccentric and fun. I’d love to visit with her again, but it looks like they’re having a deep discussion.

  Then, I see the owner of the company I work for. Michael and his wife are not invited, but Grandmother and Michael’s father are longtime friends of our family. My plan is to try to avoid speaking to him. He’s a nice enough man, and he treats his employees well, but he always feels the need to remind me of the generosity he showed in giving me my job.

  The women are decked out in their jewels tonight. Large diamonds accentuate earlobes and colored stones hang from necks. One of Grandmother’s friends has diamond rings on six of her ten fingers. Discreetly, I extract my phone from the dress’s built-in bra and snap a few pictures. Fortunately, the crystal chandeliers put off enough light that I can get decent images without needing a flash. I tweet the pictures to my followers who seem to really enjoy seeing how well dressed all the ladies are.

  The air is rich with perfume and the scent of the flowers which decorate the ballroom. This year, the floral designs were done by a company out of Los Angeles. Some of the arrangements are taller than me.

  Out of the corner of my eye, I catch Tripp visiting with my mother. Guess there’s no way of avoiding this uncomfortable situation. My shoulders roll back, my stomach sucked in, and my boobs are pushed out as I make my way to the laughing duo.

  “Darling,” Mother gushes. “Aren’t you just gorgeous?” She wraps her arm around Tripp’s waist in a sideways hug and kisses my cheek. “Tripp here tells me you’re considering going skiing with his family in March. I think that’s a lovely idea. It’s been . . . what? . . . probably five years since you last went. You just have to be careful. Everyone knows poor MK has a knack for injuries.”

  Tripp and I are about to engage in a social dance. He’s smiling a smug smile, and it takes all of my manners to not roll my eyes.

  “Oh, Tripp. Don’t you remember? I couldn’t get off work.” My features are relaxed, but I want to dig my spiked heel into his big toe for putting me in this position. My parents adore Tripp, and his family passes the old New Orleans money test. They can’t understand why we aren’t married yet.

  Tripp throws back his head and laughs. “Mrs. Landry, I bet you could persuade MK’s boss to let her off work. We could go talk to him now. I just saw him a few minutes ago.”

  Fortunately, I’m able to distract my mother with a bit of gossip about one of the families I went to high school with. She’s so consumed with the details she forgets about my skiing trip with her hopefully future-son-in-law.

  “Excuse me,” a man dressed all in black says. “I’m here to photograph the event. Would you two mind posing for a photo?”

  My mother graciously steps to the side, and Tripp and I stand together. I think the photographer meant he wanted a picture of my mom and me, but he’s too polite to correct her.

  I’m tight against his ribs while he rests his hand on the small of my back. His touch is wrong and unnatural. My smile is fake and plastered on as the photographer takes a few shots from different angles. Then, he thanks us and moves to another couple.

  “You’re an asshole,” I whisper. “Why did you tell her about the ski trip?” I say all of this through a smile. “I told you I wasn’t interested in going weeks ago.”

  “Apparently it’s time to play dirty, MK,” he says, and he brushes a kiss on my cheek before he walks away.

  Spinning on my heels, I head in the opposite direction. My goals for the rest of the night become to avoid Tripp, stay at the ball the minimum amount of time to keep Grandmother happy while still maintaining my sanity, and get a good enough buzz to make this evening tolerable.

  A waiter walks by carrying a tray of champagne flutes filled with bubbly. As I snag one, I spy one of my sorority sisters who is the morning news anchor at the local ABC affiliate. Jeannie is as stunning as she was when she was nineteen with her perfectly coiffed blond curls.

  We greet each other with a kiss on the cheek, and she introduces me to her boyfriend who plays football for the New Orleans Saints. Tony is his name, and he’s a legend in the New Orleans social circles. He’s tall, muscular, tanned, and has a face that makes girls hand him their panties. He’s played his whole career here and made his way around single, under-the-age-of-thirty girls.

  “Tony,” I greet him with a peck to the cheek. “Your boyfriend and I’ve met before.” I leave out the part where we had crazy sex on his balcony in the French Quarter about five years ago. He’d wanted a relationship, but I wasn’t dumb enough to date the playboy football player.

  Jeannie is always polished. Even if you ran into her at the gym, she’d look like a million bucks. It’s annoying. Tonight, she’s weari
ng a gorgeous shade of green, which reminds me of a spring meadow. I adore her, but she’s not the sharpest tool in the shed.

  “How have you been? I’ve heard your website is really doing well,” she gushes.

  Bella must have told her. “It is. Bella and I are enjoying working on it.”

  Jeannie turns to Tony. “MK has a site called NoPinkCaddy.com. Isn’t that clever?”

  We fake laugh.

  Tony replies, “Like your name is Mary Kay, but you don’t have a pink Cadillac like what those ladies who sell the makeup earn.”

  “That’s right. Like I’m not the same Mary Kay who owns a cosmetics empire.” Wow. This is a super conversation. How much longer do I have to be here?

  “We’d love to feature you on the morning show,” Jeannie says. “Maybe you could cook for us or do something like that.”

  “Sure,” I politely reply. I will not hold my breath.

  “I saw you’re here with Tripp. Are you two an item again?” she asks conspiratorially.

  “He’s my really good friend.” Another polite smile. The waiter with the champagne tray walks by, and I swap my empty for a full.

  “Tripp is so cute and rich,” she gushes. “I mean who’d have guessed the silly, awkward kid from college would grow into such a handsome businessman.”

  I glance at Tony who just looks bored. I don’t blame him.

  With no response from me, Jeannie keeps going. “Have you heard who is supposed to be here tonight?”

  I take a swig of my drink. “Who?”

  She looks over both shoulders before she whispers, “Johnny Knite.”

  I spit my drink all over the front of Tony’s tux. It’s epic and looks like a skit from Saturday Night Live. “Oh my God. I’m so sorry!”

  “Are you okay?” he asks as I fake cough, and he uses his hands to wipe his tux.

  “Went down the wrong pipe,” I reply while hitting my breast bone.

  Out of nowhere, a waiter appears with a stack of napkins. Jeannie and I grab handfuls and begin sopping up my mess. Fortunately, Tony is good-natured and laughs it off.

  “So anyway,” Jeannie continues, as if the whole coughing and spitting fit didn’t happen. “He’s supposed to be in town working on his new album. Rumor has it that he’s gotten out of rehab and lost his mojo. Like he writes music but has some sort of mental block against lyrics so he’s come to New Orleans, looking for inspiration.”

  Her words ping-pong in my head. Rehab? I guess rehab was one of the things Aaron wanted me to find out about him. Does that scare me? I do a quick gut check and realize it really doesn’t.

  She keeps going. “All I know, girl, and sorry, Tony, is that man is number one on my list. He’s so damn sexy and talented.” She uses her hand to fan herself. “Wow. Need a cold shower just thinking about it.”

  “Excuse me.” I turn around as my eyes sweep across the crowd. I’m searching for a fedora but spy none. Is he coming? How did he get invited is a better question. Grandmother wouldn’t invite famous A-list actors who’ve made New Orleans their home.

  I make my way through the crowd and up to the bar since my last glass of champagne wound up on Tony. I need to do something with my hands so I decide to fill one with a glass of alcohol. Desperately, I want to text him and see if he’s coming, but then again, why didn’t he tell me he was invited? Does he know I’ll be here tonight—that coming here was my plan and Tripp was my date? Grandmother does have a different last name than mine.

  “Chardonnay, please,” I tell the bartender.

  He fills a glass and hands it to me complete with a cocktail napkin that matches my dress.

  Slipping back into the crowd, I try to distract myself by visiting with Grandmother’s and Mother’s friends. They all ask the same questions: Are Tripp and I engaged yet? How’s MKPinkCaddy? I have to correct and remind them it’s actually NoPinkCaddy. I can thank my mom for their slip-ups, and apparently my mom has shared the fact that I’m thinking of opening a store on Magazine Street. While the thought has entered my mind, I don’t have near the capital to do it.

  I’m extremely flattered, though. The support I have for my website is amazing. More and more, I’m believing it’s time to see if I put my full-time efforts behind it if I can make it into something more. But I’m terrified. I’m already considered the Landrys' other daughter. The one who is still single and has an average job. I’ve heard my mother’s friends console her, saying things like what a pity she hasn’t found someone. I can’t imagine the talk behind my back if I was single and the owner of a failed business.

  I spot my sister. Her exaggerated hand gestures tell me she’s passionately explaining why New Orleans needs better and more free medical clinics to the Senator. I hate to interrupt her noble work, but well, I’m going to anyway.

  “Excuse me.” I smile my best debutante smile at the two of them. “May I steal Bethany for just a second?”

  The Senator makes a sweeping gesture with his hand, and I thank him as I pull her out of earshot. “Did you know Aaron was on the guest list?”

  Her mouth puckers in confusion.

  “Johnny Knite. Did you know he was invited?”

  She smiles. “Your rock star. Grandmother’s party planner said she was sending him an invitation.”

  “How did he get on the list? He’s not old money.” I can’t believe he was invited. It seems impossible.

  Bethany tilts her head. “Don’t you remember, MK? He’s the one who donated the start-up funds for my organization.”

  “You mean the money to fund your doctor house-call project?” It’s like my ears must be filled with water because I can’t believe I just heard her correctly.

  “Yeah. I don’t take a salary and neither do the doctors who volunteer. But we still need money to pay for medical supplies and vaccines and medicines. He has an angel foundation. I applied for a grant and he chose my organization, gifting us the money. When I heard he was in town, I asked Grandmother to invite him as a thank you.”

  “So when I told you upstairs that I was seeing him, you didn’t think to mention any of this?”

  Her hand goes to her hip, and her head turns in the special way she does when I’m about to get lectured. “Gee, MK, I just assumed you knew. This has been my pet project for the last year, and tonight my charity is the beneficiary of all the money raised. It’s just about the only thing I’ve talked about.”

  Guess who’s the worst sister ever? This girl! I hug her. “I’m sorry. I just forgot.” Truth is my mother and sister have probably discussed it at length in front of me, but I’d have tuned them out. Usually they talk about stuff I don’t care about, like who’s pregnant and who is having an affair with who. Guess I should have paid attention to this one. I mean, I knew Bethany had received a grant, I just didn’t know where the money had come from. She probably did tell me Aaron was invited, but when she said it Johnny Knite meant nothing to me.

  I release her, and she fluffs my hair over my left shoulder. “He’s got issues, as I’m sure you know. But if he makes you happy, go for it.”

  The band switches to background music. “May I have your attention please . . .” The bandleader pauses for a moment to let the crowd settle. “And now, let’s all greet Mary Katherine Sovell and her husband Grant, and thank them once again for hosting such a lovely party.”

  The double doors swing open and Grandmother and Grant enter, greeting their subjects like my sister and I did. Everyone applauds. Then the band begins playing a waltz and Grandmother and Grant begin dancing, officially opening the dance floor.

  A hand rests on the small of my back. I look over my shoulder and see Tripp with a slight smile on his face. He takes my hand, but his touch feels wrong against my skin. I long for callused fingers.

  We walk to the edge of the parquet dance floor. Towards the end of the song, my mother and father join in and so do Bethany and Ben. Tripp and I are expected to as well, but as he tries to lead me onto the dance floor, I dig in my heels. Yes, he’
s my date for the evening. Yes, I knew he had feelings for me and I probably shouldn’t have asked him to escort me tonight, but I can’t dance with him. What if Aaron is somewhere in the crowd and sees me dancing with another guy? My goal is for Tripp and I to survive this rough patch and truly come out as friends—in both of our hearts. I want to attend his wedding and hold his babies. That won’t happen if I continue pretending to the world that we are a couple. Decorum is just going to have to take a flying leap tonight.

  Thankfully, the song ends. Tripp whispers in my ear, “You owe me a dance.”

  Turning around, I smile, but through my teeth, I reply, “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

  The tic of his cheek tells me how angry he is, and I flee into the crowd, praying I won’t see him again this evening. I find an unoccupied corner of the room near the side of the stage, needing a moment to regain my composure. The ballroom buzzes with energy. The band plays an up-tempo song, and the dance floor is filled. People smile and laugh. Drinks flow. The food doesn’t seem to be touched, which will probably mean there will be some drunken antics later.

  My grandmother works the room like the professional entertainer she is. Mom always says I get my love for decorating and cooking from her. She’s so much bolder than I am, though. She loves to be the center of attention. I like to hide behind my keyboard.

  Something catches my eye—or should I say someone. The molecules of air shift around him. It’s as if Moses himself has parted the sea of people. All heads swivel to the set of double doors in the back of the room. I can’t see what’s happening, but the butterflies in my stomach begin beating their wings in anticipation of seeing him.

  Grandmother walks through the parted crowd to greet Aaron. He kisses her hand, so suave, and walks to my sister, giving her a hug. I’m watching the man my body reacts to interact with my family. It’s surreal. Does he know I’m here? Did I scare him off this morning? I’m paralyzed with doubt. I’m a nobody—certainly not a model or actress. Why would he be interested in me?

  But he’s here, greeting your family, and they seem charmed by him.