Dream Maker (Dream Team 1)

“I don’t like shopping or martinis,” Evie pointed out.

“Well, girls who like to do whatever you like to do then,” Gert retorted.

“I like going to Olive Garden with you,” Evie shot back.

“Evan, you know what I mean,” Gert replied.

“No, I don’t,” Evie said smartly. “I can have whatever best friend I want.” She turned to Lottie. “No offense to you. You’re awesome and I’m so glad you’re my friend. And stuff happens for a reason. It just does. And all this bad stuff brought me closer to you and Ryn and Hattie and Pepper. And we can go get martinis whenever you want. But I’ll probably drink something else.”

“I don’t like martinis either,” Lottie shared.

“Well then, good,” Evie muttered.

“You were gettin’ everyone drinks?” Gert prompted.

“Right, what have you got?” Evie asked.

“Beer. Water. Crystal Light. And prune juice.”

A chorus of five beers, Mag included, sounded and Lottie ordered a water.

Evie moved in the direction of the kitchen.

Mag started to get up to help her, but he stopped when Gert called, “Danny?”

He didn’t correct her on the name. He just gave her his attention.

When he did, she looked deep into his eyes.

“You got the best girl in the world there,” she said.

“I know,” he replied.

She gave him a long, measuring look.

And then she said, “I want some Crystal Light.”Chapter EighteenDefinitely a ConsiderationEvieSunday night (or more aptly, Monday morning), I skedaddled offstage, grabbed my robe, shrugged it on, and when I hit the hall, I paused and gave Boone, who was standing at the end of it, a chin lift.

He returned it, and I rushed into the dressing room feeling bad.

This was because Boone was my bodyguard that night and I wanted to be fast so he could get home, but I also wanted to talk to Ryn so she’d stop avoiding Boone and go out on a date with him.

I was going to work on all the girls, but since I’d had my chat with Auggie, and it was clear Pepper was not (yet) ready to go there, and Hattie seemed a tough row to hoe, I’d decided on Ryn.

I hit the room and saw the girls all there.

That was, all of them except Ryn.

“Where’s Ryn?” I asked.

“Don’t even,” Pepper answered tetchily.

Hattie looked at me and mouthed “Bad.”

“Bad?” I mouthed back.

She gave me big eyes.

“What’s going on?” I asked.

“She and Boone had a thing,” Pepper told me. “So, even before we got the signal, she left the stage, hustled in here, and I can only assume she escaped, seeing as she wasn’t here when I got in here.”

I moved deeper into the room. “She and Boone had a thing?”

“Yeah, after a lap dance,” Pepper replied.

Oh boy.

I couldn’t even let Mag watch me strip. Just the idea of him seeing me do a lap dance made me think I’d pass out.

Not that I did lap dances. I’d tried it once, and it wasn’t any good for me or for the creepy dude who bought it.

Good money.

But serious euw.

“I tried to talk to her, but she told me to butt out,” Pepper continued. “And she wasn’t super cool about it either.”

When I turned my gaze to Hattie, she was giving me a look and she repeated her mouthed “Bad.”

Oh boy!

“Speaking of,” Pepper went on, “are you gonna quit now that you have Mag?”

“We haven’t been seeing each other for even two weeks,” I told her, heading to my makeup station, and more importantly, my towel.

“You’re living together,” Pepper noted.

“Out of necessity,” I reminded her, shrugging off my robe so I could begin to towel off the oil.

“Not sure I’d move on, I bagged me that one,” Pepper muttered.

“You’d have one of your own, if you’d just agree to go on a date with him,” I pointed out.

Pepper decided she was finished talking.

I gave Hattie a look.

Hattie gave me a shrug.

I didn’t push it further, partly because I wanted to get out there so Boone could get me home, and thus he could get home. Partly because I was fired up to have a chat with Ryn, not Pepper. This meant I wasn’t prepared to chat with Pepper and chats like this needed preparation. And partly because I was dying to know what went down with Boone and Ryn, and I could only find that out while interrogating him in his car.

So, I dashed through toweling down, swiping off as much makeup as I could with a few disposable cleansing towels (which I’d ascertained were biodegradable), pulling a brush through my hair, shoving my tips in my bag and throwing on clothes.

I said my farewells, met Boone in the hall, he escorted me out to his black Charger, and we were away home.

I decided not to take the direct approach, but that wasn’t the only reason I started with “Thanks for playing bodyguard tonight.”

“Not a problem,” he grunted, like it was a problem.