Chapter 1 #2
Cassie put a hand up to stop her, fingers spread, the birth of an idea. “Wait. I got it. Girls Gone Mild!” She grinned at her own brilliance, teeth a near blinding ice white. “Dibs on the hashtag.”
“I am not mild.” Annabel’s toast popped up. “It’s a tea dress!”
“What’s a tea dress?” said Cassie.
“A dress you have tea in.”
“So, wild guess. This novel of yours? Big on tea dresses?”
Annabel slow-stirred her tea, ignoring Cassie’s dig. “Well, it’s set in the Regency. And they pretty much invented the tea dress.”
“Hm. I should invent the matcha dress. Kidding. You go, girl.”
“I’m showing it to my boss today. The novel.”
“She’s the agent, right?”
Annabel nodded, pouring tea through a strainer into her floral china cup. “I’m hoping she’ll at least read it.”
“Queen,” said Cassie, with another look up and down. “But maybe you should change first? Into something more . . . main-character energy?”
Annabel opened her mouth to object, when the doorbell rang.
“That’ll be Billy,” said Cassie, heading for the door. “He better have my matcha.”
Annabel settled into her usual spot in the nook next to her father with her tea and toast when Cassie reappeared with Billy.
He had a laid-back, “whatever, dude” vibe, cute but shambolic, hair like a tossed salad, baggy clothes, beat-up Vans, a skateboard under his arm, and a little brown bag in hand.
“Billy, Mom, Dad, A-bel.” Cassie pointed around the room, vague introductions. “A-bel, Mom, Dad, Billy.”
Billy raised a hand. “Hey.”
“Billy’s my ‘creative consultant’ on the show,” said Cassie with air quotes.
“Whoa,” said Billy. “That sounds so . . . professional. Like a career or something.” He shivered, like it gave him chills. “I think of it more like vibes management.”
Cassie rolled her eyes, a mannerism she’d perfected over the years. “Which mostly means he holds the camera, gets free drinks, and occasionally says something dumb enough to go viral.”
“Recurring character, actually. Her followers love me.”
“My followers tolerate you.” Cassie topped her espresso with foam. “And he’s secure enough in his masculinity to carry my purse if I need him to,” she said to the room.
“A hundred percent,” said Billy.
Annabel considered them both. Whatever Billy was to Cassie, with her flirty-but-over-it attitude, he was no doubt part of her menagerie of loyal exes. She marveled at the way her sister seemed to collect men like lip gloss, one in every pocket, in a variety of flavors.
“I’m personally a big fan, Billy,” said their mother.
“Appreciate you,” Billy said, then turned to Cassie, offering the brown bag with a flawless English accent. “Your matcha, milady.”
“Wow,” said Annabel. “Good accent.”
Cassie looked at Billy with a bored eye roll. “Isn’t she adorbs?”
“I didn’t know you had a sister.”
“I told you I had a sister.”
“Everybody, shhh!” said their mother, turning up the volume and making YouTube full screen.
“Here we are at the hottest venue in the city!” said on-screen Cassie, boobs spilling out of her top, surrounded by ravers at a hip, happening club, replete with fire dancers and a fog machine.
“They call it the Bushwick Arts Club, but I personally see zero art. Not that I’d recognize it if I saw it, but it’s, like, literally a million party people and cool dance vibes. ”
She was shouting over the deep booming bass of the giant subwoofers.
Annabel mindlessly buttered her toast, watching people around Cassie cheer, pour drinks on their heads, peel off various articles of clothing.
“What’re you wearing?” said her father, squinting over his readers to the laptop screen. “Is that a—?”
“Corset,” said Cassie.
“Well, it looks like a bra. An expensive one.”
“It’s kind of a bra-slash-corset,” said Annabel helpfully.
He looked at the bill one last time. “Yep, we should own it free and clear by the end of summer.”
On-screen, Billy appeared in a drenched T-shirt.
“Okay, back by zero demand but lots of misplaced affection is Billy Bronson!” Cassie said. “Who’s livin’ the dream, right, dude?”
“My current dream has been to actually break a beer bottle over my head,” said Billy, slightly slurring, “like, total determination.” He held up a broken beer bottle. “And it finally happened. Tonight. It was a true historic moment.”
“Not that we’re the History Channel,” said Cassie. “Not that anyone would confuse us.”
“Not with those boobs,” said Billy, with a fist bump.
“Not that we’re the Boob Channel, either, but hey, we kind of are!”
“Look at your followers!” said their mother. “You’re exploding!”
“Out of her bra-slash-corset,” said their father under his breath.
Annabel caught it and smiled.
On-screen, Cassie turned back to her audience. “Next time you see us, we’ll be live from Lon-don!”
“Yo, wild on Notting Hill!” said Billy. “It’s gonna be sick.”
Annabel stopped buttering her toast, shoulders sagging. “You’re going to England?”
Cassie turned to her. “Like I said, travel show?”
“But you hate England.”
“True. But we have sponsors. Who apparently love England.”
“It’s gonna be awesome,” said Billy. “Bloody awesome,” he added in his accent.
“Okay,” said Cassie. “Enough with the bit.”
Annabel, having lost her appetite, stared at her toast. “England. Wow. I’ve never even been once.”
Cassie swept by to snag a bite. “You know, I don’t know if you’re aware, but you say ‘wow’ a lot.”
“I like it,” said Annabel.
“Who doesn’t? It’s just, there are other ways to say it. Slay, queen, sick, lit, fire, if it’s the good kind of wow. Burn, ouch, snap if it’s not.” Cassie returned the toast to its plate. “You just make up words, you know, mix it up a little?”
“I think I’ll stick with wow.” Annabel stood and slung her tote on her shoulder.
“You do you.” Cassie shrugged.
“Anyway, wish me luck?” Annabel said to the room in general.
“Yo, dude, good luck,” Billy said. “For whatever.”
“What he said,” said Cassie.
“Real estate, sweetie. In your future,” said her mother. “I’ll send a link.”
“Good luck, Annabel,” said her father. And then, as an afterthought, “But if Bloomingdale’s happens to send you a card, cut it up right away?”
Annabel smiled and paused in the doorway, already restored to her default setting: hope.
“Bloomingdale’s means nothing to me!”