Page 16 of Bridesmaid for Hire
“Oh, is that part of the bathroom package? Okay, sure, hit me up, dude.” I hold my arms out awkwardly, and he sprays me on my neck, my chest, and my waistline, just above my crotch. I look up at him with a raised brow, questioning the placement of that last spray, but he just returns the bottle back to me and saddles up in his position one more time.
“That was…different. But thanks.” I then take the linen jacket off the hanger and drape it over my arms and shoulders. Christ, this is coming off the moment I walk into this welcome reception—because the wedding of the century needs an extra reception at the beginning too.
I pair the rest of the outfit with a brown belt and brown loafers, knowing my feet will soon be sloshing around in sweat.
I look up in the mirror, adjust my short hair, styling it in the messy way that makes it so easy to not have to worry about my hair, and then tug on the lapels of my jacket.
“Not bad for someone who just spent over eleven hours travelling and threw up on a boat.” I smirk at myself. “Looking rather dapper if I do sayso myself.” I turn to the side and lift the back of the jacket to check out my ass. I give it a slight shake from side to side. “Yup, looking really good. Those glute exercises in the gym have been paying off. Look at this thing,” I say as I turn toward the bathroom attendant. “If I knew you’d do it, I’d permit you to give it a good squeeze. But you won’t talk to me, so I doubt you’ll test the pure steel of my ass.” I straighten up. “Your loss.”
I pack up my things, shove them into my suitcase, and then zip it up. I’m going to leave the suitcase with the bellhop and hope for the best.
I roll my bag over to the attendant and stand in front of him. I reach into my wallet and pull out a twenty-dollar bill only to place it in the jar on a table next to him.
“I was going to give you ten, but the spritz to the dick doubled your tip. Thanks for the help, man.” I clasp him on the shoulder and give him a squeeze.
Just as I’m about to leave, he shocks me by saying, “You’re welcome.”
“Hey, you do talk.” I smile at him.
He stares back at me.
I smile bigger.
His brow creases.
Did I anger it?
Him, I mean him. Did I anger him?
No time to figure it out. I start to leave again, just as he grabs the door for me and whispers, “Mr. Hopper hates linen suits.”
And then he shuts the bathroom door behind me.
Crushing my confidence with five words.
Well…what the fuck?
MAGGIE
Maggie:Does this dress make me look too slutty?
I stare at the mirror, taking in the tropical print maxi dress. The top is a little precarious, one of those tops that you sort of make up as you go. Basically, it’s two long straps connected to a flowy skirt, and you loop and tie them around your body to cover the goods.
When I purchased it, I was dreaming of bulges in Speedos, but now that I’m wearing it to a business function, or at least I hope that I am, I’m second-guessing the design. Unfortunately, it’s the most modest item I have in the closet.
My phone dings with a text.
Hattie:Some might say not slutty enough.
I knew she was going to say that.
I gather my clutch, key card, and slip my sandals on before exiting my bungalow. I’ve always dreamed of staying in a place like this, waking up to a view of the ocean. I have my plunge pool that comes with privacy fences so if I want to dip in naked, I can. There’s also a private dock that leads into the crystal-blue water of the lagoon.Money well spent.
Not to mention, it comes with a personal golf cart and bikes to get around. How cute is that?
I step into the golf cart, set my clutch down and call Hattie, knowing it’s really late in California, but she’s probably awake given the type of sex schedule she has with Hayes.
She answers on the second ring.
