“Shut up,” she taunted. It took me saying Mike Litoris in my own mind before I laughed, too.
“Don’t listen to him. He knows absolutely nothing about fashion. His name is Mick Liscorios.”
“Oh, yeah, yeah, I know who he is. I watch the E channel a lot. His name is often mentioned on the red carpet.”
“Yes! Yes! Yes!” Christina bounced around, dancing, and rubbing something in Becker’s face. I laughed at their playfulness. “Pay up,” she boasted, rubbing her fingers together.
Oh. My. God. I loved these girls. Nothing was the way I’d seen it. This wasn’t what I was expecting at all. It reminded me of some of the new reality shows where strangers were locked in a house, or an island together.
“You suck. And you suck, too,” Becker pointed a finger at me while retrieving his wallet. “You’re not supposed to know who that dude is.”
“That’s so cool, Christina. Have you been to any big shows?” I asked, intrigued that she was working with Mick Liscorios. He was like famous or something.
“I went to Chanel Paris Fashion Week back in July.”
Gasping, my eyes opened wider. “You did not.”
“I did. It was amazing.”
Becker rolled his eyes and walked toward me. “Will you stay for tea or coffee?”
“Oh my god, Beck. For real?” Alana questioned.
“I can’t take you three anywhere,” Becker accused.
“Look, we don’t really do tea and coffee unless it’s noon and we’re nursing hangovers.”
“Oh, I have to work tomorrow. I can’t get drunk,” I explained to Alana. They all laughed, but not at me. It was out of fun.
“We’re not getting drunk, either. We were just breaking the news to Becker here,” Becker slid his arm around her waist when Alana leaned into his side. “Those night caps we have every night aren’t really warm tea.”
“You’re so bad,” Becker teased her. “You okay here with these three for a minute? I’ll see what I can come up with.”
“Yeah, I’m fine,” I assured him. For some reason, I felt fine. Christina pulled me to the sofa and talked busily about the fashion shows she had attended. She was going to Chicago in another month. They were working on the fall dress line, and Mick was letting her put it all together. She was so nervous, or so she said. I liked her. She was very pretty with dainty, yet strong features. I determined she worked out with raised eyebrows.
None of them looked how I imagined. I imagined them two ways—one, being all put together in pretty flowing dresses and four-inch heels. Or two, wearing conservative long skirts with their hair in buns. They weren’t either at all. Christina was wearing a pair of white loose capris with a tight pink cami. Her blond hair was piled high on her head in a messy bun. And of course, her pretty painted toes were bare.
Alana sat across from us. She, too, wore comfortable lounge-around-the-house clothes—shorts and a cami. Her hair was up, too. A long ponytail hung from the back of her head. She was the only one of the three wearing makeup.
Britney’s blond hair hung loosely down her back. She was wearing a cute little sundress with matching pink toes. Sitting across from Christina and me, she joined in, too. They all looked alike but different, each sporting their own bubbly personality. Shit. I loved them. All three of them. It wasn’t awkward at all. They somehow refused to let it be awkward.
“You’ve got to come over Friday night. Mason and the girls are coming over to play this glow in the dark putt-putt Becker keeps talking about,” Christina spouted.
The shock that he’d managed to have an entire putt-putt golf game built in a matter of days wasn’t what surprised me. “Girls? Mason has more than one wife, too?”
“Yes. Two. He hasn’t found number three yet,” Alana joked.
“I’m so confused,” I admitted audibly. “You’re all so pretty and young. Why are you doing this? I don’t get it.”
“It’s a challenge at first, but none of us were anywhere good when we met Becker. We sort of sucked at life before him. We love him. He’s good to us and brings out the best in us. Hell, I’d probably still be dancing on a pole had I not run into Becker.”
“How did you meet him?” I asked curiously. Damn. She didn’t get the chance to answer. Becker opened the door and held two of the four glasses. The lady that served our meal was right behind him, carrying two more.
“I swear I didn’t mix this,” he said, handing my drink. “Gale here insists this is the best Mai Tai you’re going to find in these parts.”