even due until February or something.”
“Did you see her on Kimmel talking about her pregnancy cravings?” Quade asks while typing something into her phone.
“Oh God, I know, so tragic!” McKenna agrees.
I realize now that they’re talking about Paige Blakely. She’s a new client of Selah’s, and we’re working on the shower for her first baby. Since she and her rock-star baby daddy are still unmarried, Selah is hopeful that she’ll also be asked to plan the rumored post-baby nuptials. Paige is a popular country singer ( so you know I love her ), but she’s made some headlines lately for the amount of weight she’s gained with her pregnancy. Personally I think making fun of a pregnant woman’s weight is downright evil, but being mean is nothing new for these two. Maybe they’ll head out later and punch some babies for kicks.
“And you saw her e-mail, right? She wants a duck-themed shower. What is this, 1987? You hire the most expensive event planner on earth and then ask her for ducks?”
“Piglets would have been more appropriate”—McKenna chuckles again—“and the barnyard theme might be a better fit for a country girl, right, Brink—” He spins around in his chair, presumably to mock me too, but his eyes bug out of his head before they can focus on me. At McKenna’s silence Quade rotates in her chair, and her face turns even paler than it is already. Both of them stare in silence, and even though I’m hidden by the door, I want to crawl under the chair and cower from whatever is in the doorway. Finally, I hear the slightest clearing of a throat and then Selah’s voice.
“Paige and I were just headed down to lunch and she wanted to see the office.” She speaks with the menace of a snake.
“Paige, I’m so sorry you had to—” McKenna tries to cover smoothly, and Quade looks like she’s about to be run over by a train. I guess on some level she is. Selah cuts him off.
“No, you won’t apologize. What you will do, both of you, is remove yourselves from my office. You don’t work here anymore.”
If it’s possible, Quade becomes even more ashen. McKenna swallows audibly. It’s like watching a car wreck, and I literally can’t look away.
“Brinkley?” Selah calls out to me, and both Quade and McKenna slide their eyes to me in the corner. I didn’t even know she knew I was back here.
“Yes ma’am?” I step out from behind the door nervously. Selah is boiling mad, but she’s doing her best to mask it in front of the very pregnant blonde country singer standing next to her.
“Will you walk Paige back out to the lounge? I’ll be there momentarily.”
“Of course,” I say, walking forward, “if you’ll just follow me, Ms. Blakely.”
Paige starts waddling through the office with a smile plastered on her face, but as she turns I can see that her eyes are watery. She’s the cutest little thing I’ve ever seen, in her brightly colored maxi dress and her wedge sandals and her big, bouncy blonde hair. She’s short like me, so the added weight is even more noticeable, but she’s still gorgeous and glowing. Screw those A-holes for making fun of her! Before I can think better of it, I say what I’m thinking.
“Ms. Blakely, please excuse my language, but they’re both total assholes. You look fantastic.”
She sniffs and looks up at me. “It’s OK. It’s nothin’ I haven’t heard before.” She sniffs again.
“No.” I’m shaking my head. “It’s not OK. They’re idiots. They couldn’t find their butt if they had both hands in their back pockets.” I scowl.
“My mama always says that.” Paige smiles her first real smile as we reach the lounge.
“Mine too.” I smile back.
“Where are you from?” she asks as she lowers herself slowly onto a sofa.
“West Texas.”
“Half my family’s from Texas.” She smiles sweetly. “Where ‘bouts?”
And just like that both of our accents are going in full force.
“Odessa?”
“Of course I know
“Did you see her on Kimmel talking about her pregnancy cravings?” Quade asks while typing something into her phone.
“Oh God, I know, so tragic!” McKenna agrees.
I realize now that they’re talking about Paige Blakely. She’s a new client of Selah’s, and we’re working on the shower for her first baby. Since she and her rock-star baby daddy are still unmarried, Selah is hopeful that she’ll also be asked to plan the rumored post-baby nuptials. Paige is a popular country singer ( so you know I love her ), but she’s made some headlines lately for the amount of weight she’s gained with her pregnancy. Personally I think making fun of a pregnant woman’s weight is downright evil, but being mean is nothing new for these two. Maybe they’ll head out later and punch some babies for kicks.
“And you saw her e-mail, right? She wants a duck-themed shower. What is this, 1987? You hire the most expensive event planner on earth and then ask her for ducks?”
“Piglets would have been more appropriate”—McKenna chuckles again—“and the barnyard theme might be a better fit for a country girl, right, Brink—” He spins around in his chair, presumably to mock me too, but his eyes bug out of his head before they can focus on me. At McKenna’s silence Quade rotates in her chair, and her face turns even paler than it is already. Both of them stare in silence, and even though I’m hidden by the door, I want to crawl under the chair and cower from whatever is in the doorway. Finally, I hear the slightest clearing of a throat and then Selah’s voice.
“Paige and I were just headed down to lunch and she wanted to see the office.” She speaks with the menace of a snake.
“Paige, I’m so sorry you had to—” McKenna tries to cover smoothly, and Quade looks like she’s about to be run over by a train. I guess on some level she is. Selah cuts him off.
“No, you won’t apologize. What you will do, both of you, is remove yourselves from my office. You don’t work here anymore.”
If it’s possible, Quade becomes even more ashen. McKenna swallows audibly. It’s like watching a car wreck, and I literally can’t look away.
“Brinkley?” Selah calls out to me, and both Quade and McKenna slide their eyes to me in the corner. I didn’t even know she knew I was back here.
“Yes ma’am?” I step out from behind the door nervously. Selah is boiling mad, but she’s doing her best to mask it in front of the very pregnant blonde country singer standing next to her.
“Will you walk Paige back out to the lounge? I’ll be there momentarily.”
“Of course,” I say, walking forward, “if you’ll just follow me, Ms. Blakely.”
Paige starts waddling through the office with a smile plastered on her face, but as she turns I can see that her eyes are watery. She’s the cutest little thing I’ve ever seen, in her brightly colored maxi dress and her wedge sandals and her big, bouncy blonde hair. She’s short like me, so the added weight is even more noticeable, but she’s still gorgeous and glowing. Screw those A-holes for making fun of her! Before I can think better of it, I say what I’m thinking.
“Ms. Blakely, please excuse my language, but they’re both total assholes. You look fantastic.”
She sniffs and looks up at me. “It’s OK. It’s nothin’ I haven’t heard before.” She sniffs again.
“No.” I’m shaking my head. “It’s not OK. They’re idiots. They couldn’t find their butt if they had both hands in their back pockets.” I scowl.
“My mama always says that.” Paige smiles her first real smile as we reach the lounge.
“Mine too.” I smile back.
“Where are you from?” she asks as she lowers herself slowly onto a sofa.
“West Texas.”
“Half my family’s from Texas.” She smiles sweetly. “Where ‘bouts?”
And just like that both of our accents are going in full force.
“Odessa?”
“Of course I know
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