CHAPTER 7
Two hours after meeting Doc in person—while unfortunately under Frankie’s evil eye—Scott found himself once again summoned by a woman. This one just as terrifying but in a mysterious do-gooder way.
Ms. Birdie Faraway had sent an invitation via messenger for him to join her for afternoon tea. He hated tea but would never dream of saying no to, among other things, the corporate owner of Naked Runway, which was her least impressive title as far as he was concerned. He much more liked thinking of her as the President of the Fairy Godmother Project. It had badass written all over it…sort of like Doc when she was hiding behind her microphone and standing on her soapbox berating his column.
He couldn’t help but wonder which was the real Doc. The dynamic, opinionated woman, or the woman who downplayed everything about her appearance as if she wanted to be invisible.
Arriving at his destination, he stopped and squared his shoulders before pushing open the doors of an establishment called Whispers of Java. He was five minutes late, something Ms. Birdie would frown upon.
As he stepped inside, the cozy, welcoming ambiance of the coffee shop engulfed him, and some of his stress from the day dissolved. With its warm, sun-kissed yellow walls—adorned with an eclectic mix of local artwork and vintage coffee advertisements—it would be the perfect place to slip away and get some work done. In no small part because it reminded him of his favorite coffee shop in Shiretopia. The place he, his best friend, and the woman Scott had been arranged to marry had first concocted the plan that had led to Scott leaving his country.
“Ah, there you are, my dear boy.” Ms. Birdie beckoned from a corner booth.
He waved as he approached and leaned down to kiss her cheeks before sliding into the booth. “My apologies for being late, but Father called and insisted we talk.”
She raised a brow in response and pushed a drink toward him. She was the only person in Manhattan who knew of the dilemma that faced him should he return to Shiretopia. “I took the liberty of ordering you today’s special, the Spring Blossom Latte.”
Scott eyeballed the drink, which was adorned with a single white flower petal. “Is it safe?” he teased. “Or did you have arsenic added to it when I failed to arrive in a timely matter?”
“Of course it’s safe. I always wait for an explanation before deciding to poison young men,” Ms. Birdie said with a touch of a smirk. “A call from your father is something you should never put off.”
“My thoughts exactly.” Scott wrapped his hands around the cup and glanced around. The space was a maze of mismatched tables and chairs, some plush loungers, and even a couple of loveseats that looked like they’d been plucked straight out of any one of the many quaint living rooms in Shiretopia. “Have you been here before?”
“This is my first time,” Ms. Birdie said. “One of my former clients just opened it. Isn’t it just the loveliest shop?”
“I would like to meet her interior designer. My place could use some touches of…warmth.” He’d been about to say home, but to allow Ms. Birdie to know he was homesick didn’t feel wise unless he wanted to become her next project.
She eyed him as if reading his mind. “Now that the pleasantries are out of the way, shall we get down to business?”
He pulled at his tie. What exactly was her agenda? Did he even want to know? “Does this meeting have anything to do with the Fairy Godmother Project?” The secret, nonprofit organization made things happen with money, influence, and connections instead of magic.
“You’re such a bright young man.”
He waited for her to expand. She didn’t. Which she wouldn’t, because confidentiality was a huge thing with her. “And am I right to assume you have another ‘life-changing opportunity offer’ for me?” That’s how she’d framed her request the first time she’d asked him to assist in one of her projects.
Ms. Birdie’s eyes twinkled with secrets and promises. “Oh, this is better than life-changing, darling. This is matchmaking magic.”
He raised a brow. “Ah, so you’ve upgraded from fairy godmother to witchcraft.”
“Nonsense,” she declared. “My fairy godmother bag has all the tools I need. The witches of this world can keep their spells and curses.”
He winced, recalling he was now under not one but two curses. The family curse and Luxury’s prediction his penis would soon fall off. Not that he was concerned about the latter. It wasn’t an actual curse.
Ms. Birdie reached across the table and patted his hand. “Stop fretting about stuff you can’t control. Life has a way of working these things out.”
The first time he’d assisted Ms. Birdie with a project, she’d asked him about his family curse. She’d been quite inquisitive, rattling on about a delightful woman she’d recently met—Molly Thorn—and how Molly could quite possibly assist in bringing the curse to an end if only she knew the name of the wicked witch who’d set the whole thing into motion.
When he’d queried Ms. Birdie on why she thought some random woman could help, she’d replied that it was on a need-to-know basis. And though it was his family curse, he didn’t need to know. After careful consideration, he’d given Ms. Birdie the name of the witch, and then promptly forgotten about the conversation until now.
“Are you ready to hear why you’re here?” Ms. Birdie asked.
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Actually, I have two requests. The first concerns a damsel in distress…”
“Who needs rescuing?” he asked when she didn’t finish the sentence.
“Oh, goodness no. What she needs is a little assistance in rescuing herself.”
“I see.” He trusted Ms. Birdie. If she said there was a woman in need, there was a woman in dire need. To get on Ms. Birdie’s radar, things had to have gone terribly wrong in your life. “Happy to come to her aid.” The moment the words left his lips, an uncomfortable thought struck him. “As long as her name isn’t Luxury Stone.” That was one damsel he could not help.
Ms. Birdie wiped the corners of her mouth with a cloth napkin. “I’m afraid that is exactly who it is.”
“Then you’ve been duped,” he said. “If ever there was a woman who didn’t need a fairy godmother, it’s her. She’s quite capable of handling life on her own.”
“Nonsense. If ever there was a lady in need of a sprinkling of fairy godmother hope, it’s her. She may be strong and independent on the outside, but on the inside, she’s fractured.”
The only thing fractured about Doc was her ability to put together a decent wardrobe, and Ms. Birdie did not need his help in that arena. Besides, Frankie was taking care of that issue even as they spoke. He’d tried to drop in on Doc’s makeover but had been turned away and told that under no circumstances would he see her before tonight’s meetup. “I have a lot of phrases for Doc but fractured isn’t on the list.”
Ms. Birdie pursed her lips. “How can you say that with a straight face? That lovely girl is now the butt of hurtful internet memes thanks to you.”
“Me?” he interjected. “She started it with her insufferable opinions about my column.”
“But were they insufferable?” Ms. Birdie asked.
“Before you go any further,” Scott replied, choosing not to argue the point, “you should know Frankie has pitted Doc and me against one another in a winner-take-all scenario.”
“Oh, dear.”
“Unless you have the power to veto the game afoot, it is not possible for me to be Doc’s wingman in wisdom.”
Ms. Birdie chuckled. “Very clever. I like that term. Do you mind if I share it with the rest of the staff of the Fairy Godmother Project?”
“Be my guest.” He’d love to know how many were actually involved in the organization.
“Thank you,” Ms. Birdie said. “Now, back to the matter at hand. I’m afraid—whatever this nonsense is with Frankie that you’re talking about—it is my fault.”
Scott stilled. “How is this your fault?”
Ms. Birdie went into a quick explanation of how she was currently serving on a hiring committee at Columbia University, and that was how she’d learned of Luxury Stone and the lawsuit. Then Ms. Birdie went on to explain how she’d pressed Luxury to go to Frankie and try to fix things. And how she’d warned Luxury not to apologize but instead offer an intriguing solution that included her proving herself correct.
“But I thought you believed in my relationship advice,” he said when she had finished.
“I do. But I had a plan. One that will no longer work. It never dawned on me Frankie would set up a Hunger Games scenario where one of your careers survives, and the other doesn’t.”
“If that never occurred to you, you don’t know Frankie Peterson very well. She’s vicious. Can you get her to change her mind?”
Ms. Birdie frowned. “Part of her contract when she was hired at Naked Runway included a snippet in which I agreed not to interfere with her decisions during her first year on the job.”
He sighed. “That’s really too bad.”
“There was a plus side to making that agreement. You see, when she made that demand, it opened the door for me to require certain concessions that worked in my favor.”
“You’re nothing if not shrewd.”
Ms. Birdie waved off the compliment with the flick of a hand. “Tell me everything that was said in your meeting. Any little detail could assist me in fixing what I’ve unwittingly broken.”
Scott took a sip of his beverage and then dove into the details of Frankie’s plan.
When he had finished, Ms. Birdie smiled. “I can work with that.”
“How so?” He and Doc were as incompatible as a mime and a karaoke machine. “Given my curse, there’s no way I’ll fall in love with her in that timeframe. And I can’t imagine her capturing the heart of another rake that quickly, either.” He exhaled a heavy sigh, the weight of the situation settling like a stone.
“Darling, I am not at all worried about the outcome for you. I believe in your techniques. Granted, they are sexist, and that is what gets under Luxury’s nerves, but nevertheless, they work on rakes. She just needs to find one that falls in love with her at first sight. Which, I believe, is how most men like you lose their heart.”
He ignored the men like him comment. “The chances of her meeting the one rake who is going to fall for her instantly are preposterously low. Let’s face it, I’m playing on the losing team.”
“Granted, the turnaround time we have is a wrinkle, but I’m quite good with an iron.”
He rubbed the back of his neck. The conversation was giving him whiplash. “Then you are rooting for me and not Luxury?” That made no sense. “A moment ago, you hit me up to be her wingman.”
“I am rooting for you, and you will be her wingman…in the sense that you will equip her with the necessary tools to win the heart of any man. Which is exactly what Frankie has asked of you.”
“Not just any man. He must be gossip-worthy with a tendency toward scandalous behavior. And I’m still not following your logic.”
“The confidence that will come from having a man like yourself declare his love to her will help soften the fall for Luxury when she loses her career no matter the outcome of your challenge.”
“No matter? I’m still not following.”
“After viewing all the social media buzz, her reputation is in tatters. As a result, I fear the hiring committee will be directed to cut our losses and go with our second choice for the position. And, as much as I’d like to fight them on Luxury’s behalf, I’m not sure they would be wrong to do so.”
He sighed.
“This is why I’ve decided to be an invisible fairy godmother to Luxury to ensure she has a soft landing, and your visible fairy godmother to ensure you win the challenge.”
“That sounds like a fairy godmother conflict of interest.”
“Not at all. With my help, you will still have your career when the challenge ends, and she will have love, with the side bonus of my helping her to find a new career. Win-win.”
“Why are you going to so much trouble? There have to be other candidates waiting for a fairy godmother who are more deserving than either myself or Doc.”
“The two of you may have made the initial mess that started this whole quandary, but I’m afraid my meddling exploded the mess. Thus, it’s my sworn duty as a fairy godmother to clean it up.”
Before leaving to meet Ms. Birdie, he’d checked his socials. He’d been tagged in two new memes. One was an image of Lux with the words written underneath: ‘Just say no to ugly.’ The other meme was a shirt-torn image of him and a group of women who were reaching for him like he was some damn rockstar they just wanted to touch. It had been an advertising stunt for Naked Runway. For RAKEish. Under it had been the words: ‘Just say no to rakes.’ The first had caused him to grimace, the latter to chuckle.
“You mentioned you had two favors to ask of me? What is the other?”
Ms. Birdie’s eyes danced with a hint of mischief. “Darling, you’ll be delighted to know, I saved the best for last.”
He raised an eyebrow, skepticism running rampant within. “Considering the first favor was to help Lux, I’m certain the second will be better.”
Her smile widened, exuding an enigmatic confidence. “Not just better. This one’s a true game changer.”
“Dare I ask?” he said, intrigued.