Total pages in book: 88
Estimated words: 91862 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 459(@200wpm)___ 367(@250wpm)___ 306(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 91862 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 459(@200wpm)___ 367(@250wpm)___ 306(@300wpm)
My contract that I have only because I’m Braden’s girlfriend.
Somehow, I have to get myself together. I have to do the post, and it has to be great after the last disaster.
If only I had someone to talk to.
Tessa could help me, but we’re not speaking.
Penny would snuggle with me, lick my face, and make me feel loved enough to maybe get my creative juices flowing. But she’s still at Braden’s, and she will be until I move into a place that allows dogs.
That’s it! I’ll go over to Braden’s to see Penny. She’s my dog, after all. I should be able to visit my own dog.
I bite my lower lip.
That’s not the answer, and I know it. Though I long to see my puppy, I’m really hoping I’ll see Braden. I’m hoping he’ll change his mind when he sees me, remembers how much he loves me.
He’ll accuse me of manipulating him.
And he’ll be right.
I’ll visit Penny tomorrow, then, when Braden’s at his office. He already told Christopher during our tense drive home earlier that I’m allowed to see Penny as often as I want, as long as he’s not home. I even have Christopher’s number to text him personally.
My phone is like a magnetic beacon in my pocket.
Just one text… Maybe Braden isn’t home? Maybe he went into his office? Maybe…
But I can’t.
I’m a mess, and as much as I want my puppy, I can’t be that woman.
It’s manipulative. Needy and manipulative.
I draw in a deep breath and stare at my disgusting reflection. First things first. A shower. A cold one to help ease the swelling in my face. It won’t be pleasant, but I don’t want anything pleasant at the moment. I want the blast of cold water on my body. Maybe it will fuel the creative part of my brain, because, damn, I need a post to end all posts today.
I have to give Eugenie and the rest of the team a reason to keep me on the payroll even if I’m not Braden Black’s significant other.
I’ll show them that Skye Manning is worth their confidence just because she’s Skye Manning.
Now… If only I can convince myself.
Chapter Three
The cold shower helps a little, but I still look like I’ve been to hell and back. I hastily pull the contract out of my briefcase. Does each post have to be a selfie? I hope not.
I read through the instructions for each post, and… “Yes!” I shout. Nothing in the language says I must appear in every post.
What can I do, then?
What can I do with this new pile of Susie products without actually using them on my face? I sift through them, looking each one over, hoping one of them will speak to me in words. Of course, that would mean I’m hearing voices, which wouldn’t be a good thing.
Come on, Skye. Time to get creative. Think, brain. Think.
And when it finally comes to me, my heart thuds.
Susie Girl Mood Lip Gloss and Plumper.
It changes color according to skin tone and to mood, or so it says.
Let’s prove it, then. I’ll show the world how it looks on someone other than me today, and tomorrow, I’ll wear it. But who?
This is a new line, and it’s all about the everyday woman, right? So why not find an everyday woman to model one of the lip colors? It doesn’t have to be me, especially when I look like a fright.
Tessa, of course, is my first choice, but she’s not an option. Too bad, because her darker skin tone and lip color would be the perfect contrast to my fairness.
So…Betsy.
She’s perfect. Very pretty but not glam like Tessa. Her skin is pretty light, but not as pale as mine, and her lips are more an orange flesh tone compared to my pink. Her hair’s slightly darker, as well, and her boho frocks will show her as a carefree soul.
Of course…she may turn me down because of her relationship with Addie. Addie can still get her a lot more business with her Bark Boutique than I can, especially if I don’t have Braden backing me up.
Damn.
I can go out, find someone at a local shop or café, introduce myself, and ask them to help me out.
Except I look like a hag from hell.
I have no choice. It has to be Betsy.
I punch in her number.
“Hello?” she says.
“Hi, Betsy. It’s Skye.”
“Hey, Skye,” she says hesitantly. “What’s up?”
“How would you like to star in one of my Instagram posts?” I say, willing my voice to sound excited and not nasal from all the crying earlier.
“You mean here at the shop?”
Crap. Of course she thought I meant the shop. She thinks I’m calling to help her. Instead, I’m calling to get her to help me.
Talk about self-centered.
“Never mind, Bets. Sorry to bother you.”
“You okay?” she asks.