Chapter 30 Mac #2
“I am the best,” Fabio puffed out his chest. “And I will make sure your Omega has a wardrobe that is both sensational and, um, nebulous. Like… like a cloud!” He snapped his fingers and strode away towards his assistants, who had managed to put all the shoes back together in their boxes and form two neat piles.
In his flurry to retreat, Fabio knocked their painstaking work over.
He cursed at them as if it were their faults again before disappearing out the front door.
“So,” Tray dropped his arm from my body and boxer bounced away. “She’s a cool winter,” he pitched his voice into what was, I think, supposed to be an imitation of my own.
“She is,” I shook my head. “I also don’t sound like that.”
“You sound exactly like that,” he teased. “Also, our resident church boy’s got style.”
“Church boy was forced to shop with his mother once a month. Church boy learned how not to dress.” I began sifting through the racks again, methodically moving things from left to right and right to left.
Periodically, I’d drop something onto the floor to join the itchy sweater.
I stopped once I’d clearly separated out all the cool, rich brights along with a few white and black options.
On the opposite side I’d filtered out browns, rusts, sunflower yellows, anything that screamed autumn.
The pile of clothes at my feet had become a small mountain.
“Why are these on the floor,” Tray sunk down to a crouch and picked up one of the items. A pair of paints that had given me instant ick. Cringing, he dropped them again. “I wouldn’t put my enemy in that.”
“It’s tweed,” Cat’s voice cut in, her eyes on the ground, “and Chanel. So, perhaps we don’t leave it on the floor to wrinkle.”
Moving between me, Tray, and the clothing, Cat made quick work of scooping up the luxury items on the ground. She quirked an eyebrow. “Fabio really is the best, you know.”
“One of the best,” Tray quipped again.
“The only one that could fit us in on short notice,” Cat admonished. “You both have made your point. He’s going to readjust the wardrobe. Don’t make any more trouble.” She shifted her burden to one arm and then waggled a finger at us.
Tray crossed his heart. “Not a peep out of me. I was just backing up my boy here.”
“And I was correct.” I shrugged.
“Even if you are right, normally you are a bit more diplomatic with these things, Mac.” She waited for a response, but we said nothing.
“Anyway,” Catalina rolled her eyes, making her look more like a teenager than a middle-aged Beta, “I’ve told Fabio to cut the cost in half as well, focusing on athletic, ‘cool’ casual, ‘vintage’ casual, artistic pieces, and only a few black tie. ”
“Artistic,” Tray waggled his eyebrows, “That was for me, right, Cat-Cat?”
“Yes, Tray, for you. Athletic for Dixon… though he and Ryder cross over in style a lot. Casual with a vintage feel for Mac. Cool casual for Ryder.” She ticked off on her fingers as she listed, still managing the weight of the fancy clothing wrapped over one arm.
“Remind me how I became your guys’ personal assistant on top of publicist?
You don’t pay me nearly enough.” She grumbled.
“Obviously the moment you moved in and signed away your life for free rent.” Tray jolted forward, pinched her waist and rocked back quickly “And what do you mean we don’t pay you enough?
You basically got Sal’s salary when she quit.
You’re double paid for a double job now.
” His shit-eating grin was so wide I thought he’d damage his face.
“Sally did not get paid enough either,” Catalina mused, “I really didn’t appreciate how incapable you boys are of running your own lives when she was around.
” Cat walked over to the foyer bench and dropped the luxury clothes over one tall, scrolling side.
She walked back to us, her expression unreadable.
Dougie Driscoll was an ancient accountant, well-loved in the celebrity circle.
Though retired, he still helped a few clients.
Catalina was the only reason he gave us the time of day.
Sally left because she got married. Her new Beta husband wasn’t secure enough to deal with her being around four very big, very famous Alphas every day.
I couldn’t understand being possessive like that.
Of course, I wasn’t a Beta. Being an Alpha, I didn’t have to be possessive.
If something was mine, no one else could take it away.
“All I know is that Doug’s going to have such a headache when I email this month’s expenses.” Cat crossed her arms after returning, staring us down.
“Are we breaking the budget, CeeCee?” Tray went into full jokester mode, his way of defusing tension. “We never overspend. You’re always such a worrier.”
“You never overspend?” She countered, tone incredulous and face scrunched up in disbelief.
She shifted a little, pointedly looking at the cat towers growing taller and wider.
“You are the worst of the bunch, Tray Rivers. Do you have even the slightest inkling how quickly this will all collapse if you guys don’t get back on track. Literally, on track.”
“We are on track,” Tray waggled his eyebrows, “Should have heard our jam session the other day.”
“Oh, I did,” Catalina scoffed, “I’m pretty sure I passed a bunch of teens with half-busted instruments busking on Sunset that sounded better. I would have come into the studio, but I prefer my ears to be in a state of not actively bleeding.”
“Ouch,” Tray slapped a hand over his heart, “That hurts, CeeCee.”
“Spending all your savings to secure an Omega and then losing everything because you guys can’t spend rationally or produce new music will hurt a lot more, Tray.” She dropped the truth bomb in a gentle voice, but it made it no less brutal.
A pang shot through my chest.
Ryder sidled up, apparently finally done torturing himself with old news stories about the Fortune Pack. “It’s always rough at the beginning, Cat,” he said, though his words were hollow. “And we always make it work eventually.”
I admired Ryder trying to keep the faith, but he needed to try a little harder to sound authentic. “Ryder’s right. We’ll get there. We always do.”
Fuck, I didn’t sound any more believable than Ryder.
“Yes, that’s true.” Cat paused, pursing her lips. “But this is the worst it’s ever been. I know your... Alpha struggles have a lot to do with it. Hopefully, that won’t be a problem anymore.”
“Tessa the museeeee,” Tray played air drums. Ryder and I exchanged looks, both of us still apparently far deeper in hopelessness than our younger pack brother.
We hadn’t used all our savings on the Eros Institute’s services, but a good chunk of it.
According to Catalina, and our accountant, we had about a year left if we didn’t produce a hit and enough buzz to launch another successful tour.
At that point, we’d need to sell some stuff to stay afloat.
I’m sure it was the anxiety, but the mention of our quickly dipping financial stability made my whole damn body itch.
I needed to change the subject. There was plenty enough worry flowing through me right now. Our bank account could wait.
I cleared my throat, rubbing at my Adam’s apple gently. “I swear the cat is already here. My throat itches like crazy.”
“Maybe it’s the Betas from the pet store,” Tray mused, glancing back at the staff working diligently. “The one in black pants could really use a lint brush.”
“Wonderful,” I rolled my eyes, exasperated.
I knew that allowing the cat was the right thing to do; we needed Tessa so badly, but bringing an allergy machine into the mansion was going to suck.
“I think all we have is Benadryl. I can’t take that, or I’ll be a zombie when she arrives.
” I turned around, planning to go to my room and see if I had other options.
“I've got you covered, Mac!” Tray shouted gleefully from behind me.
I turned, finding him jetting towards me; his grin had somehow, despite the limitations of his face, widened more.
“I bought non-drowsy allergy meds. Like, a ton of them.
Different brands too, in case one doesn't work. The pet store carried them, so I just threw them into my delivery order!”
I couldn't help but smile at Tray's enthusiasm.
His chaotic energy, though a contradiction, often kept our pack grounded.
I watched him approach, bouncing and half-skipping.
What an idiot. When he was close enough, he jumped onto me.
Tray hugged his arms around my neck and made it even harder to breathe through the cloud of pet dander that was definitely coming from the Pet Paradise workers finishing their job in the bedroom hallway.
“You…are…” I gasped for air. “Choking… me… dumbass.”
“Dude, I even got one of those air purifier things they advertise for pet allergies! An installer’s coming tomorrow to put it in your room!”
I grunted out something, his arm still blocking my airway.
“Tray, you’re suffocating him,” Ryder’s voice sounded amused.
“Oh, shit. Sorry, Mac.” Tray pushed off my body and I grimaced. Now the inside of my neck was allergy swollen and the outside was tender too.
"It’s fine," I muttered, rubbing my throat again. The itching was getting worse, spreading down into my chest. "Where did you put the meds?"
"Kitchen counter!" Tray called out, already bounding in that direction. "I'll grab them!"
Catalina watched him go, shaking her head. "That boy has the attention span of a goldfish, but somehow he remembered your allergies." She studied my face with concern. "You're getting red around your eyes too."