Chapter 10
Bianca
The color palette wasn’t just right, so I put it down and grabbed another. Liza had finally consented to be a model for one of my videos and it had to be perfect.
We sat on my studio guest bedroom floor with palettes all around us as I tried to get everything lined up for her filming.
The last thing I wanted to do was get foundation on her then have to stop the video because it didn’t match right.
She had about six swatches of liquid foundation and as many concealers all over her fair skin.
I’d finally found a match. “Okay, go wash your face in the bathroom across the hall and come back. We’ll start with your skincare routine. ”
I’d had her start a strict routine last week.
She already used moisturizer and a night cream, so the addition of an eye cream and hyaluronic acid to her normal routine wasn’t too bad.
And Liza swore her skin had never looked better.
Plus, I’d been able to offload some of the product I’d been sent but hadn’t tried.
I could give reviews on the product just based on the difference I’d seen in Liza’s skin.
As she washed up, I got everything organized, still not totally decided between two of the color palettes. She was a cool tone, for sure, but the two brands I was eyeing were my favorites and would look great on her fair skin.
By the time she returned, I’d settled on greens and had everything set up to record. “You ready?” I asked.
“Yep. I’m hoping you’ll be able to work some miracles on my dark circles. I love my clinicals, but they are seriously kicking my ass.” She did look tired.
“I haven’t found a cream or product yet that’s truly effective on dark circles, besides concealer. Have you been checked for allergies?” I asked. “They can cause major circles.”
She shook her head. “No, but I should. I have terrible seasonal allergies.”
Just as I was about to hit record on my handy little remote, my doorbell rang. What the heck?
“Are you expecting anyone?” Liza asked.
Shaking my head, I walked out of the studio and down the hall toward the stairs.
“No, not at all.” And not many people even knew my address.
We’d kept it off all documents, and the lease was even in Dad’s name.
We didn’t want some internet creeper getting ahold of me like had happened with my friend Kaylee.
She used to be a… well, a porn star, really.
And one of her fans found her and would’ve really hurt her if her boyfriend hadn’t shown up in time.
I hurried to the door and peered out of the peep hole. Some guy was standing there. “Who is it?” I asked loudly.
“Delivery,” he said, turning to look at the peephole.
I still didn’t recognize him. “I didn’t order anything. You might have the wrong address.” I’d set up a PO Box for my business. My home address was pretty well hidden.
He looked down, then stepped back and looked over my door. “Nope, this is right. Bianca Newman?”
“How’d you get past the doorman?” I asked.
“The, uh, person who ordered this called ahead.” The man stepped back again, and I could see the pink box in his hands. “I’ll just leave this here, okay? Enjoy!”
I turned and gave Liza a raised eyebrow look. “Well, then.”
I gave the delivery guy enough time to get to his car, then opened the door and peeked out.
Nobody was in the hallway, so I snatched up the box and locked the door behind me.
“I know I seem paranoid, but I’m really careful.
I’ve got an ex-boyfriend that’s being way too annoying, and after what happened to Kaylee, I’m a little nervous. ”
I’d told Liza about Kaylee’s incident already. We hurried into the kitchen and set the box on the counter. “Let’s see what this is.”
There was a card on top, but I opened the box first. Inside was a white cake with pink roses around the edges. Written in small, neat writing in what looked like gel icing was the inscription, “Still think you have bad taste? This is sweet.”
I burst out laughing, and I knew beyond a shadow of a doubt who had sent it before I opened the card.
But I was dying to see what he’d written on it.
Quickly sliding my finger under the seal, I opened it and pulled out a generic card, like from a florist. Written on the front in the same neat writing as the cake was, “Dinner, Friday. If you can resist the cake, you don’t have to come, but if you eat even a nibble, I’ll see you at Olivia’s at eight. ”
Why would he think I couldn’t resist the cake?
Then the smell hit me. “Oh, no.”
Liza snatched the card from my hand, and I unfolded the pink box. Hurrying over to my counter, I grabbed a big knife from the block and moved back to the cake. As soon as I cut into it, I moaned again.
Red velvet cake on top of an Oreo cheesecake. My favorite. I must’ve mentioned it to him at some point when he’d worked for me. There was no way in hell I’d be able to resist this. A lunch date with Wayne was totally worth this cake.
“Cut me off a piece, damn,” Liza said. “That smells like heaven.”
“Wayne fights dirty,” I whispered. With yet another moan, this one of defeat, I grabbed plates and forks and cut us both off generous slices.
When the flavor exploded in my mouth, there was no stopping the moaning. Not at all.
Our slices disappeared quickly. With a full belly and without the slightest hint of guilt at not even attempting to fight temptation, I started to fold the box back up. But I noticed something under the cake. “What in the world?”
Liza walked over and peered down. “Is that an eight?”
I pulled my cake dish out of the pantry and carefully maneuvered the rest of the cake onto it, then covered it and set it aside.
A bunch of icing covered the rest of the writing.
Liza and I made quick work of scraping the icing off with our hands, licking it off of our fingers as we uncovered the message under the cake.
I knew you couldn’t resist. See you Friday at 8.
“Oh, Wayne does fight dirty,” Liza whispered. “Damn. Does he have any friends?”
Giggling all the way, we headed back upstairs to do our live, in considerably lighter, happier moods.
“You don’t have to go,” I whispered to myself. “It wasn’t a contract; it was a cake.” It had been a damn good cake, too. I’d finished the last piece last night, savoring it and eating as slowly as I could.
He’d never know if I ate the cake or not, anyway.
My doorbell rang as I finished putting on my last layer of mascara. Who was that? If Wayne had sent another delivery, I was going to kick his ass.
So, why was I so excited at the thought that he might’ve sent preemptive flowers or chocolates before our date?
But when I looked through the peephole, it was just my sister. Damn it. I unlocked the door and let her in. “What are you doing here?” I asked.
She cocked her head at me. “What, you don’t want to see your sister?”
I chuckled and rubbed her belly. “Of course I do, but you’re about to pop.”
With a scoff, she settled down on my couch. “I’m miserable, but I’ve still got ten days until my due date. I’m fine.”
“How’s Hayden?” I asked and opened the closet door for a coat and scarf. “Is she excited?” I knew she was, but I was nervous and wanted to talk about anything.
“Of course she is. What’s wrong with you? You seem nervous.”
Slamming the closet door, I turned back to my sister and shrugged as if it was no big deal. “I have a date.”
She nodded. “Oh, okay.”
“Why don’t you seem surprised? You know I haven’t been dating at all lately.” But then it hit me. I hadn’t told him about my favorite cake at all.
My damn sister had.
I narrowed my eyes at her. “You! You consorted with the enemy, didn’t you?”
Bri burst out laughing. “Wayne isn’t your enemy. You guys just clashed at a bad time in Wayne’s life.”
I grabbed my shoes and sat beside Bri. “What do you mean?”
“Ask Wayne on your date.” She reached over and fluffed my hair. “You’re wearing your hair like this?”
I sniffed and glared at her. I loved doing skincare and makeup stuff, but hair wasn’t my strongest area. “Well, not now.”
Briana scooted forward on the couch, then did that back-arching stand that only pregnant women could do. “Come on. I’ll fix it.”
I practically had to drag her up the stairs, but we finally made it.
I kept a close eye on my watch, but my sis moved fast. Ten minutes later, she’d fixed me a braid going from one ear to the other and then back behind my head and the rest of my hair curled delicately over and around it.
It was somehow both casual and elegant, perfect for dinner at Miss Olivia’s.
“I’ve missed this,” I said. It had been a long time since Bri did my hair.
She cupped my cheek, careful not to mess my makeup. “I’m always here for you, little sister. I love you like one of my own children.” She pressed a kiss to my head. “I’m never too busy for you, kids or no kids.”
I had to blink rapidly to keep tears from spilling over. I hated waterproof mascara, so if I cried, I’d have to redo my makeup. “Stop it,” I said. “Don’t be sweet.”
“You’d better go.” She tapped her wrist, reminding me to check the time. Shit! I had fifteen minutes to get to the restaurant.
“Lock up for me,” I squeaked and rushed from the room, leaving her to navigate the stairs alone. She’d be fine, just too slow for me.
I hurried to my car. Once inside, I breathed a deep, cleansing sigh, then drove calmly and without speeding. Miss Olivia’s was only five minutes from my apartment complex, max. And I had ten.
Sure enough, I arrived with five minutes to spare. But it was weird. The whole restaurant was dark. Where was everyone?
I pulled out my phone to text Wayne and see if I’d gotten the location wrong, but light spilled from the front door. He came strolling out, waving.
After shutting off the engine, I threw the keys in my bag and started to open my car door, but he’d put his hand on the handle already. I waited and let him open the door for me.