Tre didn’t seem to notice the urgency, so she grabbed the phone out of his hands.
“Now hold on, Little Miss Grabby Hands.” He wrestled the phone from her. He was a lot stronger than he looked.
“That’s an interesting selfie to take.” Tre examined the picture she and Lyric had taken with them holding today’s newspaper. “It looks like a proof-of-life pic kidnappers use when they send the ransom email.”
“That’s what I told her.” Harmony pointed to her sister. “She insisted we needed today’s newspaper. We had to borrow it from the neighbors.”
“I just wanted to prove that we took the photo today.” Lyric made it sound like the most logical thing in the world.
“What are people saying about it? Has anyone noticed that I’m not Lyric.” Harmony tried to read over his shoulder. “I need credit for the mess last night.”
“That was you?” Tre sounded so relieved. “I thought Wonder Woman had lost her mind.” He crossed his legs. “Wait a minute, why on earth would you want credit for last night?”
She told him all about Momma, the bakery, Food Network, and winning Cupcake Cage Match.
“Hold the honey buns, that was you?” He looked her up and down. “It was you. Those chocolate pecan pie espresso cupcakes looked fantastic.”
“Wait, you were at the finals in Las Vegas?” She’d never met anyone in real life who knew about Cupcake Cage Match. It had only aired on TV once as an hour-long special.
“Of course. My ex was an underground baker. He wasn’t very good so he didn’t even make it to the state championships.” Tre sighed dramatically. “He was so pretty to look at but so dumb. Perfect abs, though. I’m a sucker for a six-pack.”
Harm threw out a fist. Tre was good people. “I hear ya.”
Lyric nodded. “So do I.”
His phone buzzed with a new notification.
“Uh oh.” He pressed the phone to his chest so no one could read the screen. “I’m afraid I have some bad news.” He tilted his head to the left and then shook it. “The media thinks the photos are faked. TMZ just reported that they’re photoshopped.”
Harmony threw her hands up. “This is crazy. How is this even possible? I can’t catch a break.”
“Calm down, Super Girl, I’ve got this.” His eyes raked over her dirty T-shirt and comfy short-shorts. “First, we need to go shopping.” He waved his hand up and down her body. “This, needs some coverage. I get the whole femme-fatale-meets-badass thing you’re trying to pull off, but it most certainly is not working. Second, we’re going to call a friend of mine who works for the morning news program, Wake Up Fort Worth. We need to get you on TV ASAP.”
“Really?” Normally Harmony had a hard time accepting help from anyone, but there was just something about Tre that made her feel better already. And if he’d managed to fix Lyric’s plane disaster, she was more than willing to give him a shot at fixing her mess too. “Lyric was right about you, you’re just the right person at just the right time.”
He put his arm around Lyric. “I do what I can.”
“I can’t go shopping. I have work to do.” Lyric started typing again. Clearly, astrophysics involved lots of typing since that seemed to be all her sister freakin’ did.
“Your family is in crisis.” Tre looked down his nose at her. “Family first. Shopping second. Work third.”
“I don’t know if ruining my sister’s reputation is actually a crisis, but I guess this can wait.” Lyric closed her laptop.
“Good, now we need to think couture. I feel like we need to establish your different personalities through your clothes.” He looked at Lyric and then Harmony and back to Lyric. “Correction, it looks like you’ve already done that. We need to establish the personalities I’m going to assign to you through your clothes.” He put a hand on top of Lyric’s. “I appreciate the Kat Von D meets Betty Crocker thing you’ve got going on, but I think we need to glam it up. There’s a fine line between sexy and trashy.” He patted her hand. “You’re just south of sexy.”
“That’s harsh.” Harm brushed some flour off of her T-shirt. “These clothes don’t define me.”
“Well, thank God for that. You look like a hobo hooker.” Tre stood. “Now, someone point me in the direction of a guest room with a shower, because I just got off a red-eye I worked with Jolinda. She’s a little heavy-handed with the perfume, so I smell like old lady.” He pointed an index finger at Harm and then at Lyric. “You two need to get dressed.”
“I am dressed.” Lyric pointed to her T-shirt.
“Sure you are, Wonder Woman, but I meant in something that didn’t come from T-shirts.com. Did your parents dress you like that and that’s why y’all don’t know any better?” He sounded like he was honestly trying to figure it out.
“You should meet our mother.” Harm rolled her eyes. “She’s just like you, only a little taller, a lot bitchier, and way meaner. And she only wears Chanel.”
“So your wardrobes are some sort of rebellion, then.” He thought about it for a second. “I admire rebellion, but this,” he pointed to the T-shirts, “has moved into mutiny territory. And the only people you are hurting are yourselves.”
“I take it back. Mom’s not half as bitchy as you are.” Harm stood and stretched. “I’ll show you to the guest room across from mine.”