Brit with the Pink Hair (The Rockin' Austen Series, #1)

by Bryan, Rebekah N.

  That was her father’s levelheadedness, but she wondered if he would feel the same if he knew how Vincent was playing Daisy and putting moves on Brit.

  Lander nodded along with Lonnie. “OK, OK, you’re right. I’ll give him one more shot.” He put up one finger to emphasize his point.

  “I think that’s the right decision. How’s wedding planning going?”

  “Oh my goodness. No offense, but your daughter has some opinions!”

  “She has good taste.” Lonnie smiled fondly.

  “She picked Abednego Lander after all,” gushed Brit. She leaned over to give Lander a hug from behind and breezed out of the room, reaching for her phone as she went. She couldn’t believe that the run-in they had made Vincent up and leave. Hopefully she wasn’t the reason he wasn’t going to deal with her family anymore. She wanted to text him, “You better show up for the gigs Lander set up for you, you little ungrateful shit.” Lander didn’t take chances on just anyone.

  “Oof!”

  Brit slammed into a body and dropped her beverage, which spattered on the floor in a puddle of frothy thick cream.

  “I heard about Vincent,” said Cord.

  “You don’t know the half of it.”

  One of the bartenders walked by. “You need a mop?”

  Cord grabbed the mop from the bartender and swept it across the floor.

  Brit reached for the handle. “You really don’t have to do that. I’m the one who ran into you.”

  “Don’t worry about it. Cleaning is therapeutic for me.”

  “Oh man, I need to remember to clean my apartment the next time you come over. You probably developed a tic wanting to clean the place.”

  “There’ll be a next time, huh?”

  “We’re going to be family. I’m sure there will be another time.”

  “There’s the weekly breakfast, right?”

  “We rotate those. The next one is at my dad’s house.”

  Cord grumbled. “Breakfast at my boss’s. Maybe I’ll skip that one.”

  Brit lay a hand on his arm. “No, you should come.”

  “Hey, Brit-nay.”

  Brit spun around when Lander came out of her father’s office.

  “Speaking of punking out, J.J. rescheduled. August first is the new date. Thinking we’ll do a nice dinner, maybe drinks, maybe dancing if we want to get real funky. You want in?”

  “August first? I think I can do that.” She had the celebrity daughters’ event, but she could work around that...or really show J.J. a good time with a few local socialites who also happen to be beautiful women. If that didn’t make him want to stay, nothing would.

  Lander noticed his brother was standing there. “What’s with the mop, bro? Anyway, you can attend the dinner too if you want.”

  Cord dropped the mop against a wall, and it knocked against the painted cement. “I’ll be there.”

  Brit trailed Cord into the conference room for the company meeting. Brit only sporadically showed up for things like that—when there was an event coming up that she cared about or that her father wanted help with. Whenever she helped out, she felt like she was making the club better, whether other people noticed or not.

  “Look who graced us with his presence,” Brit said as she selected a seat next to Sharnita. “Long time, no see, Mike.”

  A tall, thin man with thick dark hair and glasses leaned back in his chair at the end of the table, his long legs stretching out to the side. “Oh, hi, Brit.”

  “Yes, we are delighted to have Mike back with us.” Lonnie looked delighted too. He was leaning forward on his elbows at the other end of the table, his fingers tapping against each other in anticipation for whatever wisdom Mike was about to impart on the assembled staff today. “What’s first on your agenda, Mike?”

  The fact that Mike was even leading this meeting after being away for weeks was ludicrous, and Brit glanced around the table to see if anyone else shared her opinion. Cord caught her eye, and they shared a good-natured eye roll and smirk.

  “First, I wanted to tell you about the scouting and some of the deals I’ve been closing.” He told the group about one of the clubs in London, England, that Lonnie was considering buying and about some ideas for needed improvements.

  As Mike spoke, Lonnie’s eyes lit up, and he nudged Cord with his elbow every so often and pointed to Cord’s open laptop to signal to him to make a note of whatever Mike had just said.

  Rube reached for the bagels in the middle of the table and smeared cream cheese over one of them. Then he whispered to Sharnita to pass him the champagne and orange juice so that he could make himself a second mimosa. These semi-regular meetings always included breakfast and often included mimosas. Rube almost never participated in the actual meeting except to spout off some random tidbit about a celebrity or about the good ole days. Otherwise, he was just there for the free food and drinks. He tipped over his cup with the little orange juice he had left before moving to pour himself some more.

  “Someone cut him off,” quipped Brit.

  Cord laughed.

  Mike looked disturbed at the interruption and took a moment to re-center himself and remember what he had been saying.

  “Go on, Mike. We’re listening,” said Lonnie.

  “That was about all I had. Does anyone have any other new business?”

  Brit raised a finger. “Someone needs to get that door fixed off the lobby. I got stuck in the stairwell the other night.”

  “There’s really no reason anyone needs to go in that stairwell. We could seal off the door,” said Mike.

  While some of the other employees were careful and respectful around Brit, letting her do pretty much whatever she wanted, Mike did not have that instinct in him. It was the only thing that bothered Lonnie about Mike. Not his lack of presence, but the fact that he didn’t spoil his daughter like he expected everyone else to.

  Brit opened her mouth to answer, but Lonnie cut in. “Now, Mike, we can get a handyman on that, can’t we?”

  Mike sighed. “I can fix it. I’ll grab my tools after this meeting.” The good thing about Mike was when he was present, he really was a hands-on manager. Brit had witnessed him get behind the bar, sweep up broken glass on a busy night, or greet people at the door when Rube “needed” a break. Needed, in quotes, of course. Mike was useful. He just wore too many hats.

  “Appreciate you, Mike!” Brit sang.

  Mike nodded curtly. “How did the DJ Knight show go?” He slurped from his Mountain Dew can, choosing to eschew the orange juice concoction.

  Half the table looked toward Brit, but she shook her head. “I wish I knew. That’s when I was stuck in the stairwell. It got good reviews from a couple journalists. I do have some news though. I don’t think Vincent, the opener, will be back.”

  “Oh why?” asked Sharnita. “I liked him.”

  “He’s a flake,” said Brit. “And if anyone noticed the Zotz gone, that was his doing too.”

  A collective gasp sounded around the table. Lonnie put his hand up to protest, which Brit acknowledged.

  “OK, so maybe not a flake. But he did ghost Lander, which does not seem like a wise move in this industry.”

  “Ohhh,” a few people cooed, but most of the table still muttered about their lost candy.

  “Drama!” added Rube.

  Brit nodded and checked her phone under the table after it vibrated. It was Daisy.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  DAISY SONGBIRD: Brit, I really need to talk. Was tempted to message Isaiah again. Help!

  Daisy could not be left alone. Of course she’d run back to Isaiah after Vincent did her wrong. Isaiah was actually nice, Brit hated to admit.

  BRIT: You wanna come here? We’re almost done with this meeting, and then we can hang out.

  “Oh Mike, Isaiah the liquor rep is stopping by in a little bit,” said one of the bartenders. “He wanted to meet with you about some sort of promotion their doing. He stopped in yesterday looking for you, but I told him you wou
ldn’t get back until today.”

  Eek. Brit texted Daisy back.

  BRIT: On second thought, why don’t we meet on Queen Street? Retail therapy is just what we need.

  DAISY SONGBIRD: “I’d love to, but I can’t afford that.

  BRIT: I owe you one. No arguments.

  Rube peered over her shoulder, sneaking a peek at her text. “Ooh, you ladies are going to Queen Street? I wanted to get some more moisturizer at The Cure.” Rube patted his face, miming putting moisturizer on. “Mind if I join you?”

  Brit suppressed a groan. Actually, it was a good idea. If Rube was there, maybe Daisy would be less apt to talk, and more importantly, not think about Isaiah and Vincent the whole time. And Rube was kind of a hoot sometimes. It might be fun.

  “Fine, you can come.”

  Rube clapped his hands. “This will be perfect. You, Daisy, Saffron, and me. What a little party we’ll be.”

  “Wait.” Brit dropped her phone on the table and ignored the clatter. “Saffron’s coming? Why would she come?”

  “She just got into town. And you know how close she and I were. Your dad and her mom used to bring her into the club all the time, and I would look after her while you and Barbara were off at school. That little girl. So precocious. So sociable. We had a blast. Didn’t you know she was coming into town?”

  “We don’t really speak.”

  “Oh right, your little drama.” Rube waved it away like it was nothing. “You’re sisters. You’re supposed to fight. Just let her come. It’ll be fine.”

  “If it’s not, I’m taking Daisy, and we’re out of there. You and Saffron can entertain yourselves, but it’s not going to be on my credit card.”

  “Whatever you say, dear.”

  When the meeting wrapped, all the bartenders had left to either go back home if they didn’t work that night, or start cleaning and setting up if they did. Lonnie pulled Mike aside, encouraging him to give him more details about all the ideas he had and everything he had seen while he was in London. Cord was the only one who lingered, still working on his laptop, either seriously busy or faking it to hear the end of Rube and Brit’s conversation.

  “I’m going to use the little boys’ room, so I’ll meet you outside in three. K?” Rube plucked his Gucci man-bag with wolf appliqués off the seat next to him and exited the conference room.

  “I’ll be there.” Brit picked up her phone but tossed it back on the table and brought her fingers to her chin. Her younger sister was back.

  Cord’s blue eyes searched Brit. “I know it’s none of my business, but can I ask what that was all about?”

  “I’ll tell you later. Sometime. It’s just my sister. My half-sister obviously, not Barbara. It’s nothing I can’t handle.” Brit rose and threw her purse over her shoulder. “See you later, Cord.”

  “Have fun. I hope it’s therapeutic.”

  Brit offered him a weak smile and met Rube outside.

  INSTEAD OF DRIVING, Brit and Rube walked to Queen Street. Brit had been texting Daisy, and Rube had apparently been in contact with Saffron, planning where to meet. They decided to start at The Cure.

  A girl with light brown hair with honey blond highlights was standing in front of the painted white storefront of The Cure, pulling her hair into a high bun. There’s Saffron with her perfect hair. It had been light blond since birth and for the first few years of her life, hence the name Saffron. But since she was a teenager, she had been lightening it to keep it that way. Saffron was a little shorter than Brit, which made her quite a bit shorter than Barbara with her modelesque height. Still, she would be considered more average than short. She had round hips like Brit, but unlike Brit’s, Saffron’s legs were built by muscle—not shaped by takeout food and ennui. To Brit, everything about Saffron seemed like a better version of herself.

  “Hi. It’s been a while.” It didn’t feel right going in for a hug, so Brit offered a lame wave instead.

  “Hey, Brit. I like your hair. I think it was blue last time I saw it.”

  Brit thought for a moment. The last time she saw her sister was about five years ago. Darn, she was right. Her hair had been blue. “Just the tips.”

  Saffron smirked. “Right.” Saffron looked past Brit.

  Brit turned around to find Daisy shuffling her feet with her head tilted down. Swinging her arm around Daisy, Brit wanted to make it perfectly clear that Daisy was a solid part of their group, as opposed to Saffron. “This is my friend Daisy. Daisy, this is Saffron.”

  Daisy’s expression flickered acknowledgment when her eyebrows bobbed, and her eyes flicked in Brit’s direction. Brit had told Daisy about her sister, and Saffron was not a name that was easily forgettable.

  “Now that we’re all here, let’s get this party started.” Rube pushed past the group and into the shop.

  The wood flooring underneath their feet creaked as each wandered into a different area of the shop. Saffron lingered back by Daisy.

  “What do you do, Daisy?”

  “I’m a musician.”

  “Oh, so that’s how you know these two.”

  “Brit’s been so great. She got me a gig at the club. It was amazing.”

  “That’s cool.”

  “What do you do?”

  Brit’s ears perked up at this question. She wasn’t even sure what Saffron was doing these days. Barbara would update her occasionally, but Brit tuned out at the faintest whiff of her younger sister’s name.

  “I just graduated from college—or university, I guess you call it here—so I have some job interviews lined up in Toronto area while I’m visiting my dad.”

  “What did you study?”

  “Engineering. I’m interviewing at manufacturing companies and stuff like that.”

  “Wow, you must be really smart. You didn’t want to go into the family business then?”

  “In a way, I did. My grandfather on my mother’s side was an engineer. Growing up, I would help him build bird houses and little robots, and he would show me how to fix my bike when it broke.”

  Deep down, Brit knew it was jealousy, but she couldn’t help bristling at the fact that Saffron knew exactly what she wanted to do and she had a family behind her supporting her. Brit didn’t have any grandparents. The only other family she and Barbara had besides their parents and Saffron was an aunt in Holland.

  “So you’re here to stay then.” Brit picked up a tester pot of face cream and smelled it. Mmm, lavender.

  “Possibly. There are...other factors”

  “Such as?”

  Rube swept by and grabbed Saffron by the elbow. “You don’t mind if I steal her, do you? I have something I want to show Saffron.”

  “Be my guest.”

  Daisy appeared at Brit’s side. “Are you going to buy that?”

  Brit didn’t realize she was still clutching the pot of lotion. Daisy leaned over and sniffed it.

  “It does smell good. I could use some moisturizer myself.” She picked up another pot but quickly set it back down upon seeing the price tag. “Yikes.”

  “You know what, it’s yours.” Brit picked up two pots—one for each of them—and marched to the checkout counter with Daisy rushing behind her, trying to protest. “Daisy, I’ve caused you nothing but trouble lately. Let me spoil you a little bit. We have to hit Deluxe next.”

  “What’s that?” asked Daisy.

  “A really cute boutique. I’ve bought some clothes there as gifts before.”

  “Makeover time!” sang Rube.

  Daisy shrank in anticipation.

  Inside the sunny shop, metal pipes ran along both of the side walls, displaying choice clothing options not found in department stores. Brit ran her fingers over the lace of what she thought was a cute top, only to find it had knickers attached to it, making it a bodysuit.

  “OK, I love this, but I never got the point of clothing that’s trying to be two things at once. Like, I can tuck my shirts in myself. I don’t need helpful underwear attached.”

  Rube
snatched the lacy garment from the rack and held it out to Brit. “Try it on.”

  Brit pushed it back at him. “You try it on.”

  Rube sighed and tapped his free hand on his cheek. “Hmm, it probably would look better on me. But you try it. I want to see what it looks like on someone else.”

  “No, it’s a stupid garment, and I won’t justify its existence.”

  “I’ll try it on,” offered Daisy.

  “See, Daisy’s a team player. Thank you, Daisy.” Rube grabbed a nearby skirt and tried to hand it to Daisy, but Brit had to intervene.

  “No. At least pick something cute to go with it. That skirt does not work with that bodysuit monstrosity. High-waist black pants or nothing.”

  “I thought you weren’t getting involved.”

  “I never said that.” Brit flicked through the hangers on a pants rack and selected a pair of high-waist straight-leg pants in a size 2.

  “How’d you know my size?” Daisy peeked at the tag.

  Brit pursed her lips and shot a look at Rube. “Lucky guess. Also, it’s the smallest size available.”

  Rube snickered. “Funny, that’s my size, too.”

  Brit heaved a labored sigh as she migrated to a rack of black clothing.

  “What do you think of this?” Saffron held up a black fringe leather jacket.

  “Is that really your style?” asked Brit with a curl of her lip.

  “I meant for you.”

  “Well, I love it.” Brit hungrily slipped the buttery leather over her shoulders without putting her arms in the sleeves. She moved her shoulders back and forth and let the fringe slap against the sides of the jacket. Saffron did have an eye. She was just glad Saffron didn’t have an eye for what Brit wanted.

  They parted ways for dinner, but Brit had to admit that she had been having an OK time. She had warmed up to Saffron at least for a few moments, but she still didn’t necessarily want her to stick around forever. She hoped she wouldn’t have to get too comfortable with her sister.