9. Mandy
9
MANDY
“ T he horrors persist,” I declare, “yet so do I.”
Jess snorts. “Sorry, I was on the phone when Little Miss Intern pranced in there. I couldn’t stop her. I’ll buy you an apology coffee.”
“Don’t bother. It will probably just end up all over my shirt.” Pepper jumps up into my lap—well, tries to, anyway. The corgi struggles then gives up and slides to the floor.
“So, who’s the hot babe you found for Salinger?” Jess waggles her eyebrows suggestively. “Also, how much is the going rate for an escort these days? I’m feeling like I need a new job, one that pays me to dress up and go to parties.”
Leaning back in my chair, I lace my fingers behind my head and allow myself a smirk worthy of Salinger Svensson. “Like I’m paying my sister. ”
“You bad bitch!” Jess screams then claps her hand over her mouth. “But what if he falls in love with her?” She lowers her voice. “What if he becomes your brother-in-law?”
“Seriously?” Scoffing, I pull Pepper up onto my lap. “If he couldn’t handle Alma, there’s no way he’s going to want to spend any more time with my sister after the charity function.”
Gleefully, I continue. “I can just imagine his face when Lauren’s hanging on his arm, sprinkling her gold digger dust all over him, not-so-subtly telling him how a real man provides for his woman. He’s going to be so mad.” I laugh maniacally.
Jess nods approvingly. “The gloves have come off. Remind me never to get on your bad side.”
No one deserves to have my sister thrown at them… except one person.
Salinger Svensson.
He and my sister are a match made in cluster-B personality-disorder hell.
“You got me a date? Mandy!” Lauren motions me over to my bed, where she’s set up shop with her phone and laptop, posting breakup videos on social media. “Is he rich?”
“So rich!”
“Eee!” She kicks her legs under the covers. “I’m going to get nice presents, then I’m going to get married and have a baby. I’ve stopped taking my birth control. I’m not listening to a guy anymore when he says he doesn’t want kids right now. My clock is ticking.”
Alarm bells. Big, loud, out-of-tune alarm bells .
Do I truly hate Salinger enough to saddle him with Lauren as a baby mama? Also, do I really want his child at family functions for the rest of my days?
“I thought you wanted a husband.” Trying to act casual, I pick up some of the empty skin-mask packets my sister has strewn all over the floor and stuff them in the trash can.
“I need a man to support me. Child support is support.”
“Lauren, you can’t baby-trap a man.”
“Uh, yeah, I can.” She adjusts her bun. “It’s not that hard—you just lie and say you’re on birth control, then, Oh my gosh! I just, I want …” She makes porno noises.
“Shh! The neighbors are going to hear.”
“ I want to feel your hot cum in my pussy. ” She lets out a long, loud moan.
“Lauren.”
Salinger might not be stupid enough to marry my sister, but he is definitely stupid enough to sleep with her.
“Lauren. Listen, Lauren!” I grab her shoulders. “Do not sleep with him. Please. Salinger is my boss. I need this job. You cannot sleep with him on Friday night, understand? Promise me.”
“Fine.” She rolls her eyes, like we’re teenagers again and I’m telling her to stop stealing my makeup.
“You need to be on good behavior.” I’m worried now. This really wasn’t a good idea. I should have just hired a professional escort. Lauren is chaos. “You’ll have to take Pepper—it’s a pet charity. And I have files of the people on the guest list. You need to study these, okay?”
“Study?” My sister’s mouth drops open. “I thought I just had to look cute and go to a party with a rich guy. ”
“You are there in a support role.” A headache has begun to settle in my temples. “You can’t blow this for me. I’ll lose my job.”
“You should just quit your dumb job and get a husband.”
“No. A man is not a plan.”
“Uh, yeah, he is.”
“Lauren.” I’m desperate now because I tell her, “This could be your meal ticket. Just act classy.” Hopefully not, but I need her to focus. “Don’t blow it.”
“Did you put me on this email list?” Salinger snarls at me after lunch the next day.
Stuffing the rest of my pastry into my desk, I turned to face him, wiping crumbs off my mouth. “The list?”
“The list from the fucking dog-pound people. I’m getting three emails a day from them, wanting more cash, wanting a testimonial, wanting to foist a geriatric rabbit on me.”
“They’re just very grateful for the donation.”
“Get me off the list.”
“Probably want to wait until after the charity dinner tonight.”
His handsome features settle into a glower. “I don’t want to see another mangy dog in my inbox. And this evening better be successful, or I’m taking that charity donation out of your paycheck.”
“He can’t do that, right?” Jess whispers to me after he storms back into his office.
“He won’t—he’s just stressed.”
“Look at you, making excuses for a man’s toxic behavior without even the benefit of getting to ride his cock at night. Ow!” she yelps when I poke her in the shoulder .
“Gross. I would never. Besides, I’m the exact opposite of his type.”
“Please. I’ve seen the girlfriends he’s paraded around here. The man likes a nice pair of tits.”
I look down at my own and sigh then pick a chunk of fried dough out of my cleavage. Then I eat it.
“Man, it’s rough out here.” Jess sighs.
“You have no idea.” I guzzle more coffee. “I was awake until late trying to get my sister up to speed. She spent half the time on her phone.”
“I hope he jerks off before the party.” Jess turns back to her computer.
“What the hell?”
Jess’s eyebrows raise. “I’ve been around your sister when she’s on the prowl for a man. She’s, like, the definition of sex kitten. Salinger’s going to need some post-nut clarity before he deals with her.”
“Everything is fine,” I tell myself in the elevator. “You get to leave early. You’re going to an expensive dinner, and Pepper got a free grooming. Everything is fine.”
Pepper, a chunky ball of corgi floof, whines unhappily when I pick her up from the groomer.
“How was my baby?” I coo, lifting her up.
The groomer has a professionally neutral expression on her face. “Was this her first time at a groomer?”
“Er… No, it’s just been a while…”
“I see.”
There’s a long awkward pause.
I swallow loudly. Pepper tries to burrow in my shirt. “I’ll just pay then. ”
I drag Pepper out after leaving a generous tip—on Salinger’s card, of course.
“Lucky for you, I can’t afford to let you go back there again,” I tell her, “because they were not big fans of yours.”
Normally after she’s had a stressful day, I would take Pepper home and feed her snacks while she snuggles under the covers.
“I need you to dig deep,” I tell the dog as I truck her up the stairs of my walk-up apartment. “You cannot be the weak link. Salinger needs this contract. And who knows? He might give us a bonus. That lawyer I found is pricy.”
And hopefully won’t be necessary. The cops hadn’t shown up for Pepper or anything. Maybe Jaxon had just been blustering.
“We have bigger things to worry about. Salinger does not like tardiness. He also doesn’t like failure.”
Which is a problem because this is about to be the biggest fail ever.
When I open the door to an empty apartment, I want to collapse on the floor. “Oh god. Lauren. Lauren! Where are you?”
I search the small apartment frantically, as if she’s just hiding in a cabinet or something.
“Lauren!” My voice has a hysterical edge to it.
Hands shaking, I scroll to her contact on my phone.
No answer.
“Lauren!” Panicking, I yell it into the phone. “Lauren, pick up, I swear to god…”
End the call, call again. The phone rings while I send a frantic, misspelled text. “Pick up your freaking phone.” I dial her again, hands clammy, nausea burbling in my gut. “Oh my god. Pick up, pick up. ”
The fifth time I call, Lauren answers. “Oh my god, what is your problem?”
“You!” I shriek. “We’re late. We need to go to my boss’s penthouse.”
“Relax, gawd. I’m on a date! I met this cute guy. I think he could be the one. The party’s not ’til eight, so chill!”
“I’m not going to chill—don’t tell me to chill. Where are you? I’m going to come get you.”
“Just text me the address,” she says. I can practically hear her roll her eyes. “I’ll meet you over there. You’re putting so much pressure on me. It’s not healthy.”
The line goes dead. It takes all of my willpower not to throw the phone across the room. “We cannot afford a new phone.”
It rings again.
Salinger.
I send it to voicemail.
Lauren better show up, because there will be hell to pay if she doesn’t.