As she hovered her face over the cup, the lilting steam released enough of the stuffiness in her nose to let her inhale. A temporary relief. She would still need medicine to get her through this day. With the tea soothing her, Brit revived herself enough to pull her alternative outfit options out of her closet.
It was supposed to be a party environment as she understood it. Most of the people there would be photographers and press, but she was allowed and encouraged to bring friends to make it look like a full crowd. Autumn from SMS had rented out a hip-looking vacant space with exposed brick to give it a sort of underground feeling.
Brit wanted to come off as fashionable, but not a fashion victim. On the other hand, she also wanted to seem down-to-earth and the clothing to be attainable. If people wanted to dress like her, that was a good thing. That’s what she could contribute as good press for the club.
When Brit was asked to do this interview, she knew she wasn’t going to be the most famous one in the trio. The other two girls’ fathers were still in the public eye, and her father was more of a high-end business owner, who would only be remembered by those who were listening to music in the 80s.
If she were still friends with Vincent, Brit would have asked his opinion. He seemed to have a good handle on style. Unfortunately, things didn’t end up like that.
Brit set down her cup of tea and tried on each of the outfits, wincing at her battered knee in the mirror. The fact of the matter was that the pants would cover up her bruise better. The shirt was fussy, which was not something she had the energy to deal with, but she also didn’t know if she had the energy to pull off “sexy,” like the black dress would require. Sure, she could’ve found another option, but she wanted to trust her instincts of the much healthier, sound-minded, fashionable person she was yesterday instead of the rundown, shell of a woman she was today. The top and the pants it was then.
But first, medicine.
Her phone blipped. It was Autumn from Sweet Maple Street. “Carrie, Marta, and I are getting started early today with some breakfast before the shoot. Care to join?”
Brit considered her offer. Maybe if she got the medicine, she’d be able to rally. She tried standing. Nope.
“Love to, Autumn, but I can’t. I’ll see you this afternoon.” She wanted to tell Autumn about her cold, but she didn’t want that information to show up in the SMS article. She was too tired to come up with a fake excuse. Autumn would just have to deal with a polite no.
Brit tucked her hair into a baseball cap, grabbed her bag, and trudged to the elevator of her complex. Must find medicine. The tea had helped, but once Brit hit the air conditioning of the lobby followed by the heat of outside, her nose stuffed right back up in protest.
She walked a couple blocks and down an escalator to Toronto’s PATH, an underground walkway and shopping mall populated mostly by commuters heading to work or on lunch breaks. It housed the closest pharmacy to her apartment. Each time people passed her, fully garbed in their suits for work, Brit pulled the bill of her hat lower. She should’ve probably put a bra on before she left.
Inside the pharmacy, she beelined for the cold and cough aisle and snatched the package of Dayquil off the shelf.
“Brit.”
Of course she would run into someone. She straightened up and tugged at her tank top and peeked out from below the bill of her hat.
“Cord. What are you doing in this part of town?”
Despite his light-colored gray suit and his similar job function as an accountant in the entertainment business, he still looked out of place to Brit among the sea of financial district worker bees.
“I come down here for breakfast a lot.” He pointed further into the mall. “There’s a market over that way that makes the best granola bowls.”
“There’s also a gourmet donut shop down that way.” Brit nodded down the walkway. “If you’re into that sort of thing. Which I’m not because I’m on a diet. Sort of.”
Cord looked contemplative. “Huh, I’ll keep that in mind. What brings you here?”
Brit held up the box of Dayquil.
“Oh, that sucks.”
“Especially because I’m meeting with Sweet Maple Street later today for a feature on me. You can come, if you want.”
“To your interview?”
She sniffed and resisted the urge to wipe her nose with her tank top. “It’s supposed to be a party setting. They told us we can invite whoever we want as people to hang out in the background.”
“I’ll see what I can do.”
“You don’t have to go out of your way or anything. It’s not a big deal.”
“No, I’d like to. I just have to check my schedule.”
“Oh. OK.” Brit suddenly felt very exposed. “Well, maybe see you later.” She waved and shuffled past him, jogging up the escalator.
Back safely in her bedroom, she was only slightly mortified. It would’ve been worse had it been J.J., who she also wouldn’t mind seeing at this event. She picked up her phone to text him.
BRIT: I have this lame thing later today.
She filled him in on the details.
J.J. MACKDADDY: “Sounds hella cheesy. I’ll be there.”
Brit smiled. Maybe today wouldn’t be so bad after all. But now she was considering the showier black dress again.
AT PROMPTLY FOUR IN the afternoon, Brit breezed into the specified building where she was supposed to meet Autumn and the other two celebrity offspring, Marta Franklin and Carrie Amaryllis. Barbara couldn’t make it, and she hadn’t invited Lander because he was too big of a name. He might’ve distracted from the three supposed stars of the day. Sharnita said she’d bring some friends, which was promising, and a couple more of the bartenders might join them. Brit encouraged Daisy to come. She was going to try to convince Autumn to mention up-and-coming songbird Daisy in the article.
Autumn approached her just as she was walking in the door, a perfect picture of her typical sausage curls, and her stilettos clacking against the stone floor.
“Great to see you again, Brit. You look amazing. I love that outfit.” Autumn kissed both her cheeks.
Brit had chickened out on the dress. She had gone with the comfort of the culottes and the top. Better to show only a sliver of belly than all of it. Especially when she anticipated doing a lot of sniffling and sneezing. And bonus, the exaggerated sleeves could be used as tissues. Ha. Ha. Great, now she was delirious. The Dayquil had kicked in sufficiently enough, although Brit couldn’t shake the tickle that threatened to turn into a sneeze.
“Some of your guests have been filling in. We’re going to have a great crowd. Why don’t you mingle, and the photographer will get some test shots.”
“My pleasure.”
Brit approached Daisy first and gave her a quick kiss on the cheek.
“How are you doing?” she asked.
“So sick. I haven’t been this stuffed up since my nose job, but let’s keep that between us. I’m trying to be fabulous.”
“That shouldn’t be a problem for you.” J.J. slid an arm around her waist and brought Brit in for a hug. “I hope you don’t mind, I invited Saffron. Lander and his wife encouraged it.”
Brit pursed her lips. “Totally fine.” She spotted Sharnita and her group of fabulous friends and scooted away to visit with them. “Talk to you later.”
While she was catching up with Sharnita and her friends, Cord came up next to them, and Sharnita began the introductions again.
Cord bent down close to Brit’s ear. “I see the medicine kicked in.”
Brit nodded but put her finger to her lips, signaling not to mention her cold.
“You still look like you’d rather be in bed,” he said lower.
“You have no idea.”
“Did I miss a secret?” Autumn materialized in the middle of the circle. “Brit, can I borrow you? We’re going to get the interview portion started.”
Autumn led Brit to a couch where Marta and Carrie were already situated. Brit squeez
ed into the last spot on the couch between the two other women, and Autumn sank into a nearby antique chair.
“OK, first, ladies, thanks so much for coming here. What a great party, right?”
“Super great!” chirped Marta.
Brit scanned the room as the other women did. Her eyes fell on Cord and Saffron hovering near the fake bar. Did that bartender even have any booze back there? Brit hadn’t thought of getting a drink at a fake party. What could they be talking about? Brit wanted to yell, “Her hair’s not truly blond!” Cord belly laughed at something Saffron said, and Brit’s ears steamed. Or maybe those were her cold symptoms creeping back up.
“Brit? Can you tell us a little about your father?”
“My father is Lonnie Byers, who had the hit song ‘Some Kinda Peace’ and used his superstar status to start Club Stanza, the most popular and exclusive music club in Toronto, possibly in Canada.”
“You sound very proud. So you and your father have a good relationship then?”
“Absolutely. My dad’s the best. He has so much love in his heart for his family...and his family includes all his employees. He is the most honorable man alive. Hands down.”
Autumn addressed all three women next. “Do you see yourselves following in your fathers’ footsteps?”
“In a way, yes. I’ve been competing in figure skating since I was five.” Carrie looked like a figure skater with her poised straight back and graceful hands.
Marta’s father invented revolutionary medical equipment that helped cancer patients, and since then started a medical TV talk show. She and Brit had gone to school together although Marta was a couple years younger.
“Oh no, my daddy’s a genius. I haven’t come up with any inventions. I’m more into philanthropy. I started several charities including...”
Marta rattled off all her accomplishments, and Brit tensed up. Autumn would come to her next. What had she accomplished?
“It’s wonderful what you do, Marta,” gushed Autumn. “Brit?”
“Uh, well, I don’t sing or play an instrument, if that’s what you’re asking.” She giggled stupidly and glanced at each of the women beside her. “I think I’m still figuring out how I want to make a difference in this world. I do help out at the club sometimes.” She was sinking, and there were no life jackets left on the ship.
“Actually, Brit’s a huge help.” Cord strode by. “Sorry for interrupting, ladies, but she’s selling herself short. Brit’s going to run that club someday.”
The girls swooned in his wake.
“Ooh, we have a potential entrepreneur among us.” Autumn rubbed her hands together.
Brit mouthed the words, “thank you,” to Cord’s smiling face as he retreated. “Soak it up, ladies. He’s single, too,” said Brit.
Autumn wrapped up the interview, the photographer took a few more pictures, and the fake bartender got paid.
J.J. draped his arm over Brit’s shoulder. “Hey, you wanna get out of here?”
“Absolutely.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
BRIT POKED AT HER POACHED egg. “How does Saffron eat this?”
Daisy didn’t answer. Instead, she pushed her quinoa around in her açaí bowl.
“What’s up, Daisy?” Brit had a feeling it had to do with Isaiah again.
Daisy toyed with a dreadlock that framed her face. “It’s Isaiah.”
Yup, she was right. “He messaged you again?”
“Worse. I haven’t heard from him in days. I’ve seen him posting Snapchats around town, having fun at all sorts of bars. I’m having a case of FOMO.”
Brit reached for the Sriracha sauce on the table and drizzled it onto the egg. She scooped a piece into her mouth, buying some time. The hot sauce helped, but it was still bland. What a lame diet Saffron was on, but she did say she lost ten pounds in a month, and Brit’s pants were feeling tight lately.
“Going out to bars is literally his job. He’s a liquor rep.”
Daisy harrumphed. “I know. I just wish he wasn’t having so much fun while doing it. Do you think he’s maybe trying to make me feel jealous?”
“Nah, he doesn’t have it in him.”
“Did you leave with J.J. last night?”
Brit smiled through her cranberry juice. “Yeah.”
“Spill!” Daisy pushed her bowl aside, her food completely forgotten about now.
“It was no big deal. We grabbed dinner at this Thai place he’d been wanting to check out. We stayed there for an hour after our bill was settled. He paid.”
“Aw, classy!”
“We had so much to talk about. He told me everything about how he got his music career off the ground, and I gave him advice I’ve picked up over the years and told him about my family situation.”
“Wow, you must really like this guy. Did the night end there?”
Brit remembered J.J. saying goodnight. He had kissed her, but it was a quick peck and then a long hug. It could’ve been something he’d do to his mother, or it could be something more. Brit couldn’t tell.
“He left after that. No lame excuses, which was nice. He just walked me home, said goodbye, and left.” She didn’t mention the kiss. Brit wanted to figure it out on her own or hash it out with Barbara before she made too big a deal out of it.
“That’s so great. Do you think he has any single friends?”
Brit dropped her fork in mock dramatics. “You mean you’d let me set you up again?”
Daisy lowered her eyes to the table. “What do I have to lose, right? As long as it isn’t anymore creepy online guys.”
“Deal.”
AN HOUR LATER, BRIT stepped into the employee entrance of the club. With the interview behind her, meeting with younger girls who were far more accomplished than her, Brit wanted to get started working for the club as soon as possible.
A brightly colored man greeted her.
“Rube, what are you doing here? There’s no mimosa bar here today, you know.”
Rube shook his head at her. “I know that. I’m here to gossip.”
“OK, what do you got, Rube?”
Rube smirked as Cord passed en route to Mike’s office. “Morning, Rube. Brit.”
Rube nodded and pulled Brit into the conference room, grabbing a Diet Coke from the fridge for himself and a Sprite for Brit. He put the can in front of a chair and motioned for her to sit down.
“You know those sodas are supposed to be reserved for meetings,” Brit reminded him.
“This is a meeting. Besides, what do you care? You don’t even work here.”
“Not yet.” Brit cracked the Sprite can.
“OK, Ms. Byers. Whatever you say, Ms. Byers.”
“Just give me the scoop, Rube. I have work I wanted to do today.”
“I read the interview in SMS, and I must say, I’m a little hurt I wasn’t invited to the party.” He pressed his hand into his heart.
Brit smiled sweetly, seeing an easy way out of this one. “They didn’t want us to bring any big names to detract from the three subjects. I couldn’t invite Lander either.”
Rube’s chest swelled at the comparison to the great Abednego Lander. “In that case, you’re forgiven. Saffron told me all about it. Sounds like it was a short party anyway. And is it really a party if it’s still daylight?”
“Moving right along.” Brit made a circle with her wrist to encourage Rube to get to the point.
“Our boy Cord did a favor for your little sister yesterday. It was the sweetest thing. He convinced her to stay at her father’s place, and then he went with her to check out of her hotel room and move all her stuff in at Lonnie’s. I guess they had dinner at the hotel too. It’s sweet he’s trying to bring the family together like that, don’t you think?”
“Why did you think I’d be interested in this? And aren’t you and Saffron friends?”
“Of course, I ran this by her first. She gave me her blessing to tell you. She knows you’re somewhat of a matchmaker extraordinaire and thought you migh
t have some insight into Cord’s actions. The girl respects you, you know.”
“Sounds like she respects someone else more,” Brit muttered. “Wait, my dad wasn’t even home last night. He left for a business trip yesterday morning.”
Rube shrugged, and Brit stewed.
OVER THE NEXT FEW DAYS, Brit noticed what she had selfishly feared the whole time—the world had begun to revolve around Saffron. Her father returned from his business trip, and now that Saffron was crashing at her father’s place, they became inseparable. Without anything else to do, Saffron followed Lonnie to work at the club every day he had to go in. Saffron hadn’t gotten the job she interviewed for, so Cord was helping her with her resume.
J.J. and Saffron seemed to appear together in the most random of places. J.J. would be at a meeting with Lander while Saffron and Barbara stopped into the office after a lunch date. When Brit invited J.J. over to the club to give him a tour of the place, Saffron popped out of her father’s office.
Saffron had been a bartender in the States, not that she really needed the money. She was the type who liked to work, and her mother didn’t like Saffron getting exorbitant handouts from Lonnie. Besides telling her father her life story in his office, Saffron divided her time hanging out with the club bartenders, learning the signature drinks.
Barbara and Brit were still closer, but just barely. They shared constant text messages, and Barbara always let Brit complain without criticism.
What Brit needed was a distraction. Something else to plan that had nothing to do with love or sex or Saffron. A promising phone conversation with Barbara gave her an idea.
“Abednego’s been really stressed lately.” Barbara’s voice was unusually strained and sounded far away like she had Brit on speakerphone. “He needs to learn how to delegate. It’s great that he wanted to take J.J. under his wing and everything, but I really think he should pass him off to someone else. Right now, he’s trying to find a venue for J.J.’s album release party.”
Brit with the Pink Hair (The Rockin' Austen Series, #1) Page 16