And Jada, who has consumed twice as much pink bubbly as the rest of us, screams, “Tabitha! Cocktail hour on the Flying Fox megayacht!”
And all eyes turn to me. Because cocktail hour on the Flying Fox megayacht is not a phrase that would generally appear in a sentence with my name.
I feel my jaw unhinge. “Uhhh.”
Jada claps her palm over her mouth, eyes wide. “Shit!” Needless to say, this does not dampen interest. Nor does the fact that she screams, “Forget I ever said that!” when she removes said palm.
“You’re going on a megayacht?” Vicky asks. “What?” Vicky has Smuckers on her lap, and she’s petting him into oblivion, but even Smuckers looks interested in the megayacht news. His little tail is going a million miles an hour.
“I can’t tell,” I say. “I’ve signed something, and so has Jada.” I give Jada a hard look.
“We signed something,” Jada confirms.
“Is that a yes? To the megayacht?” Mia asks.
“Look, I sooo wish I could tell you guys, but we both signed such serious NDAs, both Jada and I. And if it gets out, we are so screwed. Forget you heard it.”
Vicky frowns. “Are you cutting hair?”
“I really can’t tell you?” I wince. “But I swear it’s not a sex thing.”
“Cone of silence,” Jada says.
“I assumed you were visiting your mom,” Lizzie says.
Jada shakes her head with major drama. I grab a tank top nobody wants and throw it over her head. “Stop emoting!”
“I’m sorry!” Jada says from under the shirt.
“You guys,” Lizzie’s sister-in-law, Willow, says, “a nondisclosure agreement is a really serious thing. These two could get in trouble for revealing even this much.” She looks around with a dark expression. “We must completely forget that our Tabitha is going on a Flying Fox MEGAYACHT!” She pumps her fist in the air. “Woo-hoo!”
Everybody is laughing.
Vicky throws the maxi dress at me. “Try it on!”
I go in Mia’s bedroom to try it on. I’m kind of glad they know. Everybody just assumed the two weeks was about visiting Mom in her sad assisted-living facility up north. I hated the dishonesty—my girlfriends are everything to me. Living in this place near this clan of women is more important to me than any of them knows. They just have no idea.
I come out in the dress and do a Spanish dancer pose, and everybody’s clapping. No way can I wear it, though. Rex’s personal shopper took me out this week and fixed me up with a new wardrobe composed entirely of brown, black, and white garments, with zero fun patterns unless you count stripes, which I don’t.
Mia gives me tips on what silverware to use when—she was just in a Downton Abbey sort of play where she had to learn it all.
Jada feels awful she told. She’s making all seven women do a cone of silence oath that they won’t tell. “It’s really important that this doesn’t leave this room,” she says over and over.
Vicky goes in her case and pulls out a Smuck U pendant where Smuckers is wearing a sailor cap and blue bow tie. Smuck U is her fun line of jewelry with animal faces that’s going for top dollar in the hippest stores. “I knew I made a Smuckers sailor dog one for a reason. I want you to have it.”
“I get to bring Smuckers!” I say, so touched and grateful. I can tuck it inside my outfits, a way to bring my girlfriends along. And with Rex’s check, I won’t have to move away from them. Unless the place gets torn down, that is.
“I’m sending a box of megayacht cookies to share,” Lizzie says. “Maybe I’ll try to find a picture of the actual Flying Fox brand of yacht and make cookies to match. They are gonna be completely cute.”
I press my hand to my pounding heart, feeling like I have a team of fairy godmothers on my side.
Chapter 4
Rex
Clark walks up to where I’m standing at the foot of the air stairs, just outside the hangar. It’s a cool, crisp, sunny day. Perfect for a flight to Miami, which is where we’ll board Gail’s yacht.
“Everything’s loaded in,” he says.
“Where’s my fiancée?” I ask.
He glances at his phone, then pockets it. “Near.”
“She hits the items on my list?” I ask.
“Definitely.” He regards me nervously. “Maybe you should’ve signed off.”
“I hardly have time to sign off on every random person who takes a minor role in my organization. My fiancée is nothing more than a paid prop. This trip is already wasting enough of my time.”
“She’ll be portraying your romantic partner,” he says. “It’s not so minor. In terms of a role.”
“She’ll be my partner for all of the two minutes I plan to be on deck per day.”
Just then, a black car comes into view. The car pulls into the hangar and up behind the car we arrived in. The driver goes around and opens the door.
And Tabitha steps out.
I straighten. Blink.
“Wait a minute,” I say, unable to comprehend what I’m seeing. “Hold on a moment. What?”
Tabitha waves at us from across the tarmac.
I suck in a breath as she approaches. My mind reels at her transformation. She’s in a brown jacket and skirt set. Her thick, dark curls are tamed with clips, smooth and sleek, and her tan high heels make her legs look…very long.
“No,” I say.
“She fits the list,” Clark says. “Perfectly.”
“Tabitha. The hairdresser. Is the lynchpin to rescuing our billion-dollar account?”
Clark frowns. “She’ll do a good job. Gail will love her. You know she will. You said somebody who irritates you. She irritates you.”
“What were you thinking?” I gust out. “Jesus Christ.”
“Don’t Jesus Christ me,” Clark says under his breath. “She hit every item on your list.”
“Maybe so,” I say, trying to process all of this. “But I didn’t mean…to actually hire Tabitha.”
“Why the hell not?” Clark asks.
I don’t know why the hell not. The truth is, she’s convincing when you get her out of her boots and bangles and Hello Kitty T-shirts.
Beyond convincing.
She’s more of a handsome girl than a classically pretty one, with strong features and a sturdy build. But all put together like this, she looks…convincing. Possibly even compelling. Or something.
“Picking her was a stroke of brilliance, and you know it,” Clark says.
“I thought she was going to Japan,” I mumble.
When she’s a few yards away from us, she puts down her small suitcase and her purse, plants one hand on her hip, and flings the other up into the air. And there she stands, beaming at us, all dimples and sparkling brown eyes. “So we’re doing this!”
Clark laughs. Something churns in my gut. Of course he’d find her amusing.
“Hilarious,” I mumble under my breath.
She picks up her stuff and comes up to join us.
“Hey, Tabitha,” Clark says when she reaches us.