“Are you sure you wantthatphoto on your page?” I mentally beg him to say no.
He stares at it for a long moment with a small smile tickling his lips. “Yes. It just may be my favourite post yet.”
I look between him and the screen in my hand, my mortification ebbing slightly. Nicky likes having a photo of the two of us on his page; this isn’t a complete disaster. It isn’t so bad.
Okay. I smile at him and tuck my phone away.
Perhaps I won’t have to kill him after all.
CHAPTER 10
Cherry
“Read the message to me again.”
I groan and thrust my phone at Serena. I’ve read Nicky’s text message to her three times, and she still seems confused. I’m not exactly sure what it is about the five-word message that has tripped her up so much.
Nicky
Where are you going tonight?
“It’s just weird,” she says from her spot, rummaging through her suitcase. “Does it mean he’s coming out with us tonight?”
I shrug. “Who knows? It could mean he wants to know where to send James to watch out for me.”
She pouts. “That’s no fun!”
I make a face. “I know.”
Tonight, Serena and I are going out. Like,out, out. To one of the hottest clubs in Miami. We’ve just finished a gruelling race weekend that ended in almost a photo finish at the checkered flag with Nicky just missing out on the win. The team hastaken the P2 as almost a loss and so we felt a night out was called for to cheer everyone up.
Patrick had been on board, using his semi-celebrity status to pull some strings and get us VIP access to “The Halo Room.” According to Google and every celebrity blog I scrolled through, it istheplace to be in Miami.
“Do you think we’ll see any celebrities there?” Serena asks now. She’s combing through her clothes, spread out all over the floor around her. When she heard where we were going and with whom (she adores Patrick), she insisted we get ready together.
I think it’s all part of her master plan to play dress-ups with me like I’m her Barbie doll.
“We see celebrities all the time.”
It’s true. Apart from the F1 drivers wandering around every race weekend, there’s always some famous person visiting the garage or taking photos with the team. Today alone we’d seen David Beckham (Serena hyperventilated and needed a time out afterwards) and Rhianna. Now granted, it was from a distance, given we are mere plebs in the grand scope of things, but still, to be this close to this level of celebrity is pretty special.
Tanya almost blew up my phone when I sent her the photos of Rhi Rhi a mere three feet away from me. She was that excited.
“I know, I know. But being at work and being at a club is different,” Serena says. “At a club, we will be wearing something like this.”
She holds up a scrap of material that I can only guess is a dress, but there’s so little of it, I can’t be sure.
“You are dreaming if you think I’m wearing that.”
Her bottom lip juts out. “Cherry, you have that body and you do nothing with it. You’re always wearing t-shirts and jeans. Tonight, you’re going full glam.”
I take my hair out of its ponytail and shake out my waves. “I can be full glam and not half-naked. Find something else.”
She puts the “dress” to the side and, with a long-suffering sigh, continues to hunt through the mountain of clothes.
“This is perfect.”
The dress she’s holding up this time actually resembles a dress. And it’s gorgeous.
