Don't Kiss the Bride

Megan: I miss having you here. Everyone is gossiping, of course. Some are saying you punched Paige, someone said you were fucking her dad, some are saying you’re a queen for giving that bitch what she deserves.

My stomach churns with anxiety. I don’t want any more drama in my life, I just want it all to stop.

Me: Great :-(

Megan: Don’t worry, I’m setting the record straight. I got your back.

Me: Thank you. I’ll try to call you later.

Megan: Okay. Love ya.

Me: xo

“Good morning, naughty girl,” Rebecca says when I arrive at the boutique. My heart jumps into my throat, and my brain scrambles to figure out how she knows I got rammed doggy style last night and then submitted to a cum massage by my angry, drunk, fake husband. “Even though it’ll be nice having you here a few extra hours this week, let’s try not to get suspended again, okay?”

I gulp in relief. “Agreed.”

Smiling, she tosses a package at me. “This came for you this morning.”

I hold the light-gray, padded envelope and look at it with curiosity. “For me?”

“Yup.”

I take it to the break room and cut it open. There’s a pretty card laying on top of something wrapped in purple tissue paper.

Dear Skylar,

We are very impressed with your photographs and captions for Belonging’s Boutique. We have followed your personal account, @thatvettegirl, and we love your outlook and style. We would be honored if you’d accept this blouse, and if you love it, you can share photos of it with your followers and give them the special discount code below. You will receive 10% from each sale. If this is something you are interested in, we would love to work with you more in the future and increase your percentage.

There is no obligation if you are not interested in being an influencer, or if our products are not of interest to you, but please keep the blouse as a gift from us. We are a small, woman-owned company, and we appreciate young, fresh, and innovative women like yourself.

Keep up the amazing work - we see great things in your future!

Best wishes,

MaryAnn Rockport

CEO of BlueHueToo Fashions

Oh. My. God.

An influencer opportunity! I don’t even have the coveted ten thousand followers yet! I run to Rebecca to show her the gorgeous white peasant blouse and the note.

“Wow!” she says. “This is amazing. I’m so proud of you!”

“Is it okay if I do it? On my personal profile?”

“Of course! Why wouldn’t it be? I love seeing you succeed.”

“I just don’t want to create a conflict of interest.”

She smiles warmly at me. “I’m totally fine with it. Who knows where this could lead for you? I think it’s wonderful.”

My mouth hurts from smiling so much. “Thank you.”

“The blouse is to die for,” she says, touching the soft material. “I’m going to be the first to buy one using your code.”

I start to mentally plan my day—deciding which products I want to take photos of. The holiday items are starting to roll in, and Rebecca wants to run some sales since people will be buying gifts. I ordered rolls of fake snow, and I hope they make the pictures look cool and wintery and not like a tacky mess.

Out of habit, I reach into my back pocket for my phone, but it’s not there.

Frowning, I grab my purse to see if I threw it in there. I want to send a quick text to Jude before I start taking photos, just to let him know he’s on my mind.

I can’t help wondering if he’s been thinking about me today like I’ve been thinking about him.

After dumping the entire contents of my purse onto the floor, I realize I must have left it at home when I was texting with Megan.

“Crap,” I mutter. I’m going to have to drive all the way back home to get it, then come back here.

Frustrated with myself, I tell Rebecca I’ll be back and make the drive home. As I drive across town, my mood takes a dive. Not only do I not have my favorite playlist because it’s on my phone, but I really miss my car. It might sound strange, but driving my Corvette always put me in a good mood and made me feel free. The car was a reminder of all the talks my grandfather and I had—like when he told me life will get better as long as I never give up hope. The car was symbolic of my life—a bit of a mess now, but with the potential to be beautiful with some patience, love, and care.

Someday, I will get my ’vette back from Jude.

When I get to the house, I realize I must’ve been more distracted than I thought I was this morning. Not only did I forget my phone, but the front door isn’t shut all the way.