I let out a sigh, reaching up to massage the space between my eyebrows. “I’m well aware,” I deadpanned. “You’ve said it many, many times.”
“Swear to God above, that girl has the smarts of a blowup doll. First time I met her, I wondered if she’d somehow managed to bleach out all her brain cells.” She lifted a finger in the air and declared, “Natural blonde my ass. If that dummy was a natural blonde, then I have the ass of a Kardashian.”
Snickers and laughs filled the air, and I struggled to keep from smiling myself, knowing just how accurate Gram’s description of my ex was.
“Then she went and left you for that beady-eyed weasel cousin of yours, proving that she really was the dumbest lump of skin and bones this side of the Mississippi.”
“Wait.” One of the other stylists who obviously hadn’t been working the day Gram told the whole sordid story stopped in the middle of folding a strip of foil in her client’s hair to look at my grandmother in confusion. “She left one grandson for another?”
Gram blew out a raspberry and batted her hand in the air. “Please, like I claim that other one. Knew that boy was going to come out wrong when his parents decided to name him Chandler.” She curled her top lip up in disgust. “What the hell kind of name is Chandler? And sure enough, he was born just as rotten as the rest of them. Bad apples, the whole freaking lot of them. Only one who wasn’t spoiled from the get-go was him.” She threw a thumb in my direction. “The rest are a bunch of money-grubbing disappointments, determined to drive the Kingsley name into the dust.”
Ms. McClintock spoke next, her blunt, no-holds-barred manner wrapped around every word. “So if it’s not the neighbor, and it’s not the overgrown dumbass Barbie who’s finger you put a ring on, then what’s the big deal with being set up with a nice, sweet girl?”
I opened my mouth to offer up a reason, but nothing came out. The only legitimate excuse I had for turning down these ladies’ offer was because I had no interest in a blind date, but something told me “Because I don’t want to” wasn’t going to fly.
I silently cursed myself just then for not waiting in my car while Gram got her hair done, or just dropping her off and going to do my own thing while she cooked under one of those hair dryers or whatever. But no, I had to go in with her. I had to be a good grandson. I could actually feel my balls drawing up inside me the longer I sat there, surrounded by these women. I felt like I was under a microscope as they waited for me to come up with a believable lie that would get me out of this goddamn mess.
I ground my molars together as I glared at Gram’s grinning face. “I’ll think about it,” I finally relented a minute later.
“Oh good!” She clapped her hands and looked at Nona through the mirror as she declared. “Make sure whoever you come up with is a looker. And smart. Smart is very important. I don’t think I could survive him bringing another dummy home. Oh, and see if you can find one with childbearing hips.”
With a groan, I dropped my head back and squeezed my eyes closed. “Fuck my life.”
4
Layla
I stood tall, tossing my hair back over my head, and hit my final position just before the song beating through the speaker ended.
“Awesome! Great job, ladies,” McKenna called out from the front of the studio as she gave us a clap. “That number is going to look amazing on stage next week.”
My muscles were stinging, my skin was hot and misted with sweat, and I was grinning like a lunatic. It wasn’t an actual performance, just a rehearsal for the latest Whiskey Dolls number, but even without a crowd in front of us applauding, I got the same endorphin dump in my blood stream that I would if we were dancing front and center in the packed club.
I loved being a Whiskey Doll and performing at the club that heralded the same name. Whiskey Dolls had once been a strip club by the name of Pink Palace— major ew. It had been a serious blight on the entire county, a lot like a big, honking pimple on prom night.
McKenna—lovingly nicknamed Mac by all of us—had been a dancer there back in the day. It was where she’d met her now-husband, Bruce. He’d been a Pink Palace bouncer who was crushing hard on the little blonde pixie of a woman. When the place was all but condemned, they bought it and built it into something glorious.
Now Whiskey Dolls was a burlesque club that was so popular, people came from all over Virginia and the surrounding states just for a chance to see us perform and to experience the utter cool that was the club. The shows we dancers put on were the talk of the town and beyond, and the atmosphere of the whole place was unrivaled. In other words, it was cool as hell, and I freaking loved that I got to work there.
Moving to where my gym bag rested against the back wall, I grabbed my bottle of water and sucked the cool, refreshing liquid back as I patted my sweat-damp chest dry with a clean towel.
When I lowered the bottle, I saw my friend Marin sauntering my way from across the room, a shit-eating grin on her face as she was trailed by a few more of our friends. “Hi,” she chirped as she came to a stop in front of me. “How’s it going?”
I narrowed my eyes in suspicion. “Fine. How’s it going with you?”
“Great,” she chirped happily as the other girls stopped behind her, forming a kind of semi-circle. “Absolutely fantastic.”
Tossing my water bottle back into my bag, I crossed my arms over my chest and arched a brow. “All right, what’s going on? Did you sniff glue before rehearsal or something? You look like you’re high right now.” I sucked in an affronted gasp. “Swear to God, if you made magic brownies and didn’t share them with me, I’m going to be super pissed.”
She rolled her eyes dramatically. “I’m not high, you dummy. I’m just really, really happy right now.”
“Yeah? Why’s that? You get the good stuff from Pierce this morning?”
“Well that’s a given,” she declared with a snort. “But it’s not why I’m so giddy right now.” She clasped her hands in front of her and did a little hop. “Charlotte, you want to tell her why I’m so happy?”
I looked to our friend Charlotte, lifting my brows in question as a grin pulled at her lips. “So, I went to get my hair done yesterday, and Nona was telling me about this guy she wants to fix up—”
Son of a bitch in six inch heels. I lifted my hands, palms out, and cut her off. “Oh hell no. Not going to happen.”
Marin squealed excitedly. “That’s the best part! You can’t say no. You have to go on a blind date!”
“Like hell I do!” I cried indignantly as I stomped my foot on the floor. “I’m not gonna do it and you can’t make me.” Okay, so I might have been pouting, but who could blame me? Blind dates were the absolute worst.
Marin’s smile turned into an evil glare as she planted her hands on her hips and cocked one leg out to the side. “Oh yes you damn well will. This is payback for the blind date you set me up on. Remember?”
One time. I tried dipping my toe into the matchmaking pond one freaking time, and Marin refused to let me live it down.