Summer Breeze Kisses - Addison Moore Page 0,115

into that matrimonial fantasy after what my parents went through—an entire new slew of unsuspecting freshmen will populate the floor once again.

“I do look amazing, don’t I?” I tease, doing a little twirl. I’ve donned my little black dress, requisite for seduction and yet classy enough for dinner with my father and his insignificant other. A pair of gold heels is pressed to my feet, adding that metallic splash all the fashion magazines are touting as the indispensable accessory. Classy enough to qualify as timeless, and, yet, trashy enough to qualify as FMs. Every girl in the Western Hemisphere has the right to own a decent pair of F Me’s—especially should the need arise to parade around town with her stepbrother. Already the four-inch lift is killing my arches, but I’m willing to suffer through a little bone disfigurement if it means getting my father’s neck off the chopping block or altar as it were.

“So, where are you headed?” Daisy pulls her wild curls back into a ponytail and grabs her gym bag—a clear signal she’s headed to Stilettos for her shift. Daisy just started dancing at the club a few months back, and already she’s made enough to lease her very first car. It’s nothing too flashy but gets her from point A to point B without having to rely on public transit or me. Not that I ever minded helping her out so long as it didn’t involve the interstate.

“We’re dining at The White Orchid. It’s that new Asian fusion restaurant in downtown Jepson. I’ve been dying to try it out, so this works perfectly. Hey, you want me to drop you off at the club, and then I’ll swing by tonight to pick you up? I’ll bring Piper and Cassidy, and we can make a night of it. We can even hang out at the Black Bear after.”

“No can do.” She spritzes herself with her perfume from head to toe, effectively gassing up the room in a cloud of floral vapors. “I’m actually pulling a double, so I’ll be dancing in the late show as well.”

“That means you won’t be back until after one in the morning.”

“I know. It’s perfect.” She dabs some gloss on her lips and blows herself a kiss in the mirror. “As soon as school starts up, I’ll be stuck with my old schedule, but this way I’m making almost three times as much as I usually do because the late night customers are much better tippers.”

“That’s because they’re much better drinkers. They’re tipsy tippers.” I wrinkle my nose without meaning to. Daisy knows I’m not crazy about the fact she’s strutting her stuff in front of innumerous inebriated strangers, but I also know it’s something she’s completely comfortable with. She’s not nude, but still, there’s an awful lot of skin movin’ and groovin’ when she’s out on that stage. A thought comes to me. “Have you ever thought about what might happen if, you know, Mr. Right walks into the club one night?”

I can feel my face heating as soon as I ask the question. For whatever reason, a small part of me is forever trying to rescue Daisy from that carnal club. I would never say it out loud, but it’s a bad idea from start to finish.

“Well”—Daisy checks her phone before blowing out a heavy breath—“if Mr. Right is going to be as judgmental as you are, then I’m not interested in his opinion.” The smile fades from her face.

“Okay.” I raise my hands in surrender. “I’m sorry.” Everything in me softens to her. Daisy is my best friend, and the last person on the planet I want to make feel bad in any way. “You’re right. I’ve been nothing but a judgmental witch this entire time. I just wish I could help.”

“You’re not a witch.” She pinches my chin, looking up at me with those thick lashes she’s been gluing on for the last half hour. “Okay, you can be sort of a witch.” We share a quick laugh. “But the whole point is, I don’t want anybody’s help. I’m perfectly capable of powering through this thing called life all by my lonesome. And don’t worry”—she adjusts my neckline with a seamless tug—“this is just temporary. I get what you’re saying. If I did have a man in my life, I’m pretty sure he wouldn’t want me doing cartwheels in my G-string while other men whistle with approval. I promise, I’ll cross that bridge when I get to it.”