Dirty Work - Regina Kyle Page 0,64

he brings the microphone closer to his sinful mouth and smiles.

That’s when it hits me, what he’s doing. The music. The outfit. The dirndl-wearing drag queens.

It’s the parade scene from Ferris Bueller.

My hand flies to my mouth and tears burn the backs of my eyelids. I blink them back and dig the heels of my hands into my eye sockets to make sure I’m not hallucinating. Nope. Still there, all of it, down to the last drag queen.

“Ainsley Scott,” Jake says, his voice thick with emotion and conviction. “This one’s for you.”

“How does that guy know your name?” Aaron asks.

Erin moves to his side and smacks him on the arm again. Harder this time, from the sound of it. “Do us all a favor and just stand there, be quiet and look pretty.”

“Ow.” He rubs his shoulder and pouts at her. “Was that really necessary?”

“You’re still talking, so I’d say yes. Do I need to hit you again?”

They continue to squabble, but I ignore them. Jake has my undivided attention. He’s in full Ferris mode now, lip synching along with Wayne and hamming it up with everything he’s got.

“What are you still doing here?”

Erin’s question is met with silence, and it takes a second for me to realize she’s talking to me and not Aaron. I pry my gaze off Jake and stare at her, confused. “Should I be somewhere else?”

“Yes.” This time it’s my arm she smacks. And yeah, it’s hard and it hurts. She gestures out the window to the street below. “Down there. Unless you’re playing hard to get or something.”

Hard to get is definitely not the message I want to send. More like take me, I’m yours.

I make a mad dash for the door, but somehow Erin gets in front of me.

“Wait a second.” She reaches up, pulls out my ponytail, and fluffs my hair. Then she pinches my makeup-free cheeks, unbuttons the top button on my blouse, and stands back to examine her handiwork, nodding approvingly. “There. That’s better. Now go get him, tiger.”

“Thanks,” I croak as Aaron opens the door and ushers me into the hall with a dramatic sweep of his arm.

“Break a leg,” he calls after me. “That means good luck.”

“Only in the theater,” Erin corrects him. “In normal, everyday life, good luck means good luck. Or you got this. Or knock ’em dead. Although I admit that last one’s probably not the best in this particular situation...”

The door clicks shut, cutting her off, and I race down the hall to the elevator. The damn thing is slow as fuck, so I wind up taking the stairs. It’s only four flights, but by the time I reach the bottom, a crowd is gathered on the sidewalk, traffic is backed up and people are hanging out of their windows to get a better view.

But just like in the movie, no one seems to mind the disruption to their daily routine. Instead, everyone’s cheering and clapping and whipping out their cell phones to record it all for posterity. And YouTube, no doubt. Jake will be plastered all over the world wide web by lunch, if not sooner.

“Ainsley.”

I whip my head around to see the driver’s door of the SUV swing open. A guy almost as criminally good-looking as Jake steps out and waves at me.

“Hang on,” he yells, working his way through the crowd. “I’m coming to get you.”

Jake has spotted me, too. His eyes lock with mine as he mouths the last lines of the song.

Danke schoen.

Auf Wiedersehen.

Danke schoen.

But this isn’t goodbye, it’s hello. The sweetest, wackiest, most elaborately orchestrated hello of my life. When I think of what Jake must have gone through to set this whole thing up...

A loud, involuntary sob escapes from somewhere deep inside me, and happy tears stream down my cheeks.

“Are you all right, dear?” the woman beside me asks, patting my shoulder.

“Oh my God, Marsha,” her friend exclaims, grabbing my arm. “It’s her.”

“Who her?” Marsha asks.

“The girl he’s singing to. Ashley. No, Ainsley. You are her, aren’t you?”

I nod—no use denying it when everyone will know who I am in a matter of minutes—and as-of-yet-unnamed woman number two sighs. “Isn’t it romantic?”

“I wish Hank would do something like this for me,” Marsha laments. “But I’m lucky if he remembers to put the toilet seat down.”

“Ainsley.” SUV guy appears in front of me, holding out his hand. “Connor Dow. Nice to finally meet you face-to-face.”

So this is the infamous Connor. I take his hand and shake it. “Likewise.”

Jake