I smile down at my hot little strawberry and take my phone out and snap a photo. She pretends to blow me a kiss, and unable to help it, I take her into my arms and kiss her.
“Ugh, don’t you two ever get sick of each other?” Kimberly rolls her eyes.
“Nope,” I reply. I kiss Hayden again. “How could anybody ever get sick of this strawberry?”
A voice sounds. “What are you doing? We are running late, people.” We turn to see a very angry short woman barreling down the hall. She has two braids in her hair that are pinned across her head. “Upstairs. Right now,” she demands.
“Sorry.” Hayden winces as she scurries up the stairs, and we all rush after her. We get to the main living area and look around at our handiwork. There are balloons and streamers everywhere. Very cabaret, if I do say so myself.
“Line up,” Agnes demands.
We all frown at each other. What?
“Line up,” she repeats. “Tell me who you are.”
We all introduce ourselves as we stand in a line, and she walks along. She looks us up and down. “Now . . . I run a tight ship,” she says, serious. “You will be professional at all times and”—she holds her fingers up to air quote—“on tonight.”
“On?” I frown.
“Performing.” She smiles calmly. “I want cabaret. I want over the top. This has to be the most fun time that these guests have ever had in their life.”
I stare at her as she walks up and down the line. Calm the fuck down.
“I am on trial here tonight, and I want this job . . . so please don’t mess it up for me.”
“Yes, Agnes,” we all reply.
She goes behind us and rifles through a box. “Come here, Christo,” she tells me.
Huh?
I step forward, and she sprays a can of something all over my bare torso. “What is this?”
“Body glitter.”
What?
I look down at myself. She’s sprayed me with oil and gold glitter.
No . . .
Hayden sees my face and gets the giggles. She drops her head as she tries to hide from Agnes.
“Step forward,” Agnes tells Bodie and Basil. They do as they’re told and are covered in gold glitter oil as well.
Basil’s eyes meet mine, and I wince. What the ever-loving fuck is going on here?
“Now, I’m going downstairs to check on the menu. The guests will be here in ten minutes. Remember, their wish is your command.”
She disappears downstairs, and we all stare at each other. “Are you all feeling on?” Kimberly asks.
“Just get through tonight. She’s gone tomorrow,” Hayden whispers.
Ugh, not in the mood for this shit.
The DJ starts the music on the balcony above us. It’s loud dance music, and disco lights begin to flash. I walk to the bar and duck down behind it. I take a swig of tequila out of the bottle.
I text Masters, just to be sure.
Don’t fuck this up.
YOU DON’T KNOW ME.
Ten minutes later
We all line up at the entry onto the yacht to greet our guests. I see the large group walking down the boardwalk. I glance down at myself: black pants, red bow tie, and gold glitter oil over my body.
Kill me now.
I can hear Masters’s deep voice as he gets closer, and I clench my jaw. This is humiliating. There are about twenty men and a few women . . .