Read The Supermodel's Best Friend (A Romantic Comedy) for Free Online Page A

I have to give Ronnie a
raise.”
     
    * * *
     
    The narrow, winding drive through the
redwoods was making Lucy sick. Between the slow, sideways lurching
of the limo on each turn and the quart of champagne in her stomach,
Lucy had never been so miserable in her life. She should have gone
in the Honda with Krista and Betty. No bubbly in the Civic.
    “I can’t believe you’re not even going to
tell me the guy’s name,” Lucy said, trying to distract herself from
the nausea.
    Fawn didn’t look so great herself. She’d
stopped talking about her fantastic Huntley about forty minutes
earlier to grip the door handle and stare straight ahead with her
lips in an unusually thin, tight line. “If it’s meant to be, you’ll
know it in your heart.”
    “But I’m going to be eyeing every man
remotely my age like—I don’t know—like my dad shopping for a new
recliner.”
    Fawn sipped a bottle of water. “Better that
than you sitting in the cabin doing paperwork.”
    “If he doesn’t know me, either… ” Lucy sank
down into the limo’s leather seat. “I don’t see how this is going
to work. Men don’t usually… go for me right away. This wasn’t our
deal.”
    “We found the perfect guy for you. He’ll be
at the spa all week. If it’s meant to be… ”
    “Cut it out with this meant-to-be crap.
That’s why I asked you guys to set me up. To eliminate the
guesswork.”
    “I thought the point was to find a compatible
life partner.”
    “With your help. How do I know you’ve really
found someone for me? What if he’s not interested?”
    “He will if it’s—”
    “Don’t say it.” Lucy closed her eyes. She
should have known Fawn would try to inject some touchy-feeliness
into it. She sighed. Ah, well, no harm in keeping her eyes open.
She’d been a little crazy to ask her friends to interfere,
anyway.
    She glanced at the GPS screen mounted on the
glass behind the driver: estimated arrival time, 9:27. “One more
minute.”
    “I hope I don’t look as shitty as I feel,”
Fawn said. “I’ll probably barf on his mother.”
    “It’ll be her first test. Any good
mother-in-law would forgive you. A great one would clean it
up.”
    Fawn laughed weakly. “Rosalind Sterling was
even richer than Huntley growing up. From what I’ve heard, she’s
never had to clean anything in her life.”
    “Not even her own butt?”
    “Stop it. If I laugh, I’ll hurl.” Fawn got up
onto her knees, sticking her head out the open window on her side.
“God! It smells so good here!”
    Lucy leaned her head out on her side and
inhaled the scent of cedar and redwood. July days were long, but it
was past nine, and the huge trees blocked the last of the daylight.
They’d have to wait until the morning to see what the remote
property really looked like. The slicing glow of the headlights lit
up lots of trees with ferny undergrowth and not much else. No
buildings, no farms, no vineyards, no people.
    She felt a bug slap her in the cheek and drew
her head back in, frowning at the GPS. 9:28. “We should be there by
now.”
    “I think we are. I saw a little sign back
there.” Fawn came back into the car looking wind-blown and
refreshed, her tangled blond hair flying around her head like a
Barbie that had been stuck under the couch cushions for a while.
“Oh my God, I’ve got to clean myself up.” She lurched across the
seat to grab her bag, pulled out a square box shaped like a
miniature suitcase—chrome and studded, like in a movie about jewel
thieves—and popped it open. Shelves of makeup and brushes slid
apart under a mirror. Fawn propped it on her lap and got to work
while Lucy watched in fascinated disgust.
    “Don’t,” Fawn said without looking over at
her. “You have your ways, I have mine.”
    “I didn’t say anything.”
    “I could hear your thoughts pouring out of
your ears, like in a cartoon.” Fawn made a face into the mirror and
brushed on her mascara. Her large eyes became impossibly enormous,
her lips