Crazy Thing (The Brighton Family #5)

Chapter 12

12

ZIGGY

C lothes are strewn across every surface of my ultra crammed bus. Clothes that are not even mine.

My closest friends are squeezed onto my lumpy fold-out couch. Alana, Meghan, Nadia and Emma all showed up at my door this evening. My girls are here to make sure I have the ‘appropriate business attire’ for my new job.

And wine. Lots of wine.

I light a smudge stick in my tiny kitchenette, and Nadia immediately starts coughing and waving her hand around. “Are you trying to start a forest fire?”

“Look! Fire, Mommy!” Sparkle urgently fists the front of Emma’s shirt and points in the direction of the smoke.

Tucking her wiggly toddler against her chest, Emma quickly twists over her shoulder to open one of my windows, letting the smoke waft outside.

“Sorry, ladies!” I snuff out the flame before taking a long gulp from my wine glass. “I’m just trying to burn out this negative energy that I’ve been carrying around. Between this waterfall business and having to deal with Darius’s grumpy butt, my whole aura is out of whack.”

“I still don’t understand why Darius Brighton is offering to help you,” Meghan says, tossing a maroon pencil skirt in my direction. “He’s a billionaire. Billionaires don’t just throw their money around for no reason.”

She would know. She’s married to a billionaire herself. Cash Westbrook has all the money in the world and he uses it to give Meghan everything that she wants. And for the most part, Meghan just wants cats.

Cats, cats and more cats.

Nadia, who’s neatly folding some of the clothes I’ve already rejected, waggles her brows. “I think I know why—girl, your butt looks divine in that pencil skirt.”

Alana looks up at me from where her newborn baby boy has got her boob in a death grip as he breastfeeds. “Yeah. Based on what you’ve told us, you and Darius may fight like cats and dogs. but your ass in that skirt could initiate an international peace treaty.”

Standing in front of my narrow, wall-mounted mirror, I awkwardly wiggle my hips. Shit—this skirt is tight.

I grab another outfit, stripping off the current one right out in the open. I try on another knee-length skirt and a plain, sensible blouse.

I used to have a few armchairs in here for guests. But I recently got rid of them, keeping only my fold-out couch. I do miss having the extra furniture but at least I can turn in a full circle in my living area now.

“Trust me—Darius wants nothing to do with my butt,” I quibble under my breath.

I already got a glimpse of that man’s taste in women a long time ago. And I’m not it. Back then, he was all about the pretty, perky fashionista types .

By this point, with all the money he’s got and his GQ magazine good looks, I’m sure that Darius Brighton has upgraded to dating actresses and A-list models and Instagram famous socialites.

My heart almost cracks just thinking about it. But it doesn’t. Because Darius is not my type, either. Anymore.

“What’s all the animosity between the two of you anyway? From what you told us, you haven’t seen this guy in years.” As Emma speaks, I notice her trying to sneak some notes into her tiny notebook.

“Put that away!” I scold her.

“Oops!” She grins at me and she sheepishly slips the notebook back into her purse. This girl uses absolutely every conversation as inspiration for her bestselling romance books.

“Anyway, I just don’t like his vibe,” I tell the girls. “He’s always been selfish and egotistical and now that he’s rich? I’d bet he’s a hundred times worse.”

Nadia squints at me. “Don’t you think that sounds a little…judgmental?”

I feel a pang of guilt because I know better than to go around judging people. But the same rules don’t apply to Darius. Darius has already proven himself to be the enemy.

I stubbornly fold my arms across my chest. “Well, I know I’m right about him,” I insist, even as I begin to feel a bit foolish.

Alana and Nadia share a look but they say nothing. Meghan breaks the silence by flinging another skirt at me. “Here. Try this on.”

I stand there, awkwardly modeling the clothes in the tiny space. I haven’t felt this uncomfortable since my mother forced me into a gross, expensive designer dress for my high school graduation.

Don’t get me wrong—everything my friends have brought is really nice. And I know that they’re making this effort out of love. But these outfits are just not… me.

Alana and Meghan usually wear medical scrubs all day at the veterinary clinic where they work. Emma’s wardrobe consists mainly of athleisure items since she began writing romance novels and being a big-time author for a living.But Nadia’s a girl boss lawyer in the corporate world so her professional wardrobe is top-tier. Still, these clothes feel a bit stuffy on me.

“Your stuff is very cute and fashionable. But I don’t know about this,” I mutter, biting my lip and pulling at the fabric near my neckline.“Is this…polyester?”

Nadia winces. “Um…maybe?”

“But you look amazing, though,” Meghan says comfortingly. “And your professional wardrobe definitely needs a little spiritual awakening of its own.” She shifts through my collection of tunics and cardigans and wide-legged pants hanging from a hook beside my couch.

I feel myself start to panic. “Guys, I can't breathe in clothes that have a higher thread count than my dreamcatcher. Plus, these blouses and skirts are practically new. Surely, you don’t want to just give them away to me.”

I prefer clothing with some sustainability and natural fibers. I can’t feel good about wearing materials that contribute to waste and pollution, especially when there’s plenty of great items already available at the thrift stores. I don’t judge my friends’ clothing choices, in the slightest but this is not for me.

Truthfully, if the girls were offering some longer skirts or more playful patterns, I’d be all for rocking their second-hand items to my office job.Besides, these styles would look way better on my fashionista sister than they would on me .

Sitting on the floor, Sparkle’s amused giggles fill the bus as the toddler entertains herself by trying on the various headpieces from my bohemian hat collection.

“Well, Meghan’s right though. You look hot. And maybe this change will be good for you,” Alana suggests as she slips her son over her shoulder and softly pats his tiny, hiccuping back. “But your individuality is what we love about you, Zig. We’d never want you to be uncomfortable.”

I shimmy out of the pencil skirt and hand it back to Nadia to fold. Gosh—my no-go pile will be through the roof by the time we’re done here.

I’d love to humor the girls. But I promised myself I could never fake it again after all those years of giving into my parents and trying to be someone I’m not.I could never ‘sell out’.

“Sorry, guys. I’m not letting the corporate world change me. My usual attire will be fine, right?” I get a couple of reluctant nods. “Besides, my goal is to save the waterfall for my Starlight Falls friends, and that’s all. It shouldn’t matter whether I’m wearing Armani or my homemade peasant skirt.”

“Are you sure that’s the only thing that’s going on here?” Emma asks suspiciously. “I’m not saying you have a crush on Darius Brighton. But that kind of passionate rage you have against him usually means…something. I’m speaking as a romance writer here.”

“Uh-huh,” Meghan hums.“And I’d bet he has a crush on you. I’ll say it again—billionaires don’t throw their money around for no reason.”

Grrr! When it comes to relationships, my girls think they have it all figured out. To be fair, they do.

They all happen to be married to their very own Westbrook brother. Those guys were once considered to be the most eligible bachelors in Honey Hill. Now, Cash, Davis, Harry and Jasper live to obsess over their wives.

Sure, I’d like to have a partner to share my life with. But in my experience as a psychic, I’ve come to realize that, unfortunately, romantic love isn’t in the cards for everyone.

Especially not for a girl like me.

And besides, I’m not willing to accept any old relationship just so I don’t have to be alone. If the soul-deep connection isn’t there, I don’t want it.

I scoff. “No. Darius? No .” I almost laugh. “They say to keep your friends close and your enemies closer. Well, if I’m working as Darius’s assistant, I get to keep a watchful eye on him to make sure he doesn’t betray the town. That’s all it is.” I grab the wine bottle, emptying the contents down my throat.

The girls don’t seem convinced but Emma’s the only one who dares to say so out loud. She smirks at me. “I guess we’ll see how this plays out.”