I put in my earrings, the only pair I kept that are sedate gold hoops, and check my watch—which I also kept. I kept it because I’m constantly checking the time and will go nuts without it, but also so I could have something else to pawn should I need to down the road.
Walking back out to the kitchen of Rand’s apartment, I look down once again at the note he left me when he jetted out early again before I even woke up.
Cat,
Stuff to do but make sure you’re dressed casual and ready to go by noon.
Rand
Short, to the point, and totally not telling me a damn thing. But it’s the lunch hour and I’m guessing maybe he’s taking me out to lunch. Maybe like a date?
Which is a foreign concept for the most part. I mean… I went out on dates with Samuel. They were formal affairs where he’d send a stylist to me, who would dress and polish me up. Then a driver would pick me up at my crummy little apartment I shared with two other strippers. They’d jokingly say, “Have fun, Vivienne” as I walked out the door, an homage to Pretty Woman.
Samuel would then take me to a posh restaurant I couldn’t even afford to work in and we’d make polite small talk while we ate.
So not sure that’s really a date.
Not the type that a twenty-four-year-old woman should have.
Maybe we’ll go to The Million Dollar Cowboy Bar for burgers, which is totally a tourist trap, but I’m not really a local, am I? Perhaps a stroll around town square afterward? That sounds fun—like a real date should.
The knocking on the door surprises me, and I flip my watch to look at it again. Noon on the dot, but that can’t be Rand as he’d just walk right in.
I go to the door, put my eye to the peephole, and see two women standing there. Young, roughly my age. One a brunette, the other a blonde. I open the door and peer out at them. “Can I help you?”
“Cat, right?” the brunette says, sticking her hand out and not even waiting for mine to meet hers. She takes it and gives a quick handshake. “I’m Callie Hayes… Woolf Jennings’ girlfriend.”
I immediately turn beet red and almost start to hyperventilate. Woolf Jennings’ girlfriend is shaking my hand? What the fuck?
I mean, seriously, what the fuck? I had sex with her boyfriend a few times at The Silo back in the day.
I furiously try to scrub some of those images from my head as I desperately try to think of what to say, but then she’s dropping my hand and the blonde—who looks vaguely familiar—steps forward, taking it. “I’m Sloane Preston. I think you know my boyfriend, Cain Bonham.”
A strangled sound gurgles up from my throat, and I go dizzy. I think I might vomit for a moment, as I can only think these women are here to beat the shit out of me. I’ve been with both of their men, on more than one occasion, and in a nastier way than I’m betting these two beautiful women have been, and I just know I’m done for.
The blonde drops my hand, tilts her head to the side, and asks, “Are you okay? You look a little pale?”
“Um… I… um…” I stutter as I take a step back from them. My gaze flicks back and forth between the women, wondering if they have weapons and why in the hell I didn’t slam the door in their faces.
The brunette—what was her name… Callie?—gives a nudge to the other with a knowing look on her face and takes a tentative step toward me through the doorway. “She thinks we’re here to bust her chops about The Silo.”
She says this to her friend, but her eyes are on me. I take another step backward.
“Well, reassure her we’re not,” the blonde—Sloane, I think—urges her.
“I’m here to offer you a job,” Callie says, and I halt my backward momentum.
“Excuse me?” I ask, stunned at this weird turn of events.
“Bridger told Woolf you were looking for a job. Woolf told me. I happen to be looking for someone to help with my dad’s campaign—”
“—he’s running for governor,” Sloane pipes in.
“—that’s right. Things are starting to ramp up and I need help,” Callie concludes.
Okay, now this is just too weird for me to comprehend. With all the peculiarity and stress in my life, I seriously cannot digest what these women are doing.
“Let me get this straight,” I ask with hands on my hips and eyes slightly narrowed at Callie. I decide not to hold any punches. “You want to offer me a job on your father’s political campaign?”
“That’s right,” she says with a bright smile. “I mean… you can do some basic typing, right. Address envelopes? Stick signs in yards? It’s pretty basic, but it’s a full-time position.”