Free Absolutely True Lies by Rachel Stuhler

more irritated I was with him. Granted, Daisy wasn’t exactly a Rhodes scholar, but he certainly wasn’t helping things by talking down to her all the time. “And Sharla and Axel have been here and ready to go for the last half hour.”
    “Do they want me to wash my hair?” Daisy asked, frowning.
    “No, just go on out to Axel and he’ll take care of you,” Jameson replied, snapping his fingers at her. “Now scoot.”
    I didn’t want to seem too excited, but all I could think about was room service food. A hamburger and French fries, and maybe a giant piece of chocolate cake for dessert. I didn’t know anything about Sharla, Axel, or a club opening, and to tell the truth, I couldn’t have cared less.
    But Jameson was getting very good at thwarting my planned escapes.
    “You can head to Sharla first,” he told me.
    “I’m sorry?” I asked, looking behind me to make sure he wasn’t talking to someone else in the room. But the only eyes looking back at me were Ariel’s.
    “Axel will do Daisy’s hair first, then you two can switch.” Jameson seemed to survey my appearance and then frowned. “I hope the dress will fit. A six was the biggest they had.”
    He said six like it was a plus size.
    “I’m going with her?” I asked, still a few steps behind. I was ignoring the implied disapproval of my weight, and also trying not to think about how many pairs of Spanx it would take to get me into a size-six dress.
    “Of course,” he said, eyeing me strangely. “We didn’t fly you across the country to leave you alone in your room all night.”
    “Oh . . . thanks.”
    “Now get on out there,” he said, patting my ass lightly.
    I think I jumped about a foot when Jamie touched me. “Um . . . I’d appreciate it if you didn’t do that.”
    “Do what?”
    “I’m not a Playboy bunny or a pro football player,” I responded. “So please don’t pat my ass.”
    Jamie laughed, obviously missing the point. “Oh, Hols . . . I know you’re not a Playboy bunny. I’ve dated a few, believe me . . .” He continued to laugh, even wiping a tear away from his eye. “Now get out there. Sharla’s waiting.” As I left the room, he still couldn’t stop laughing. It was great for my self-esteem.
    Maybe now is the time to mention that I hate clubs. Not just hate—loathe and abhor. I can handle the occasional bar when it’s not too loud or crowded, and I’m all about nice restaurants and charity events. But stick me in a small room with four hundred drunk people swaying to music I can feel vibrating up through my legs and I want to kill myself. I would seriously rather swallow jagged pieces of glass than spend hours getting liquored up to grind against some greasy guy I don’t know. And don’t tell me the guysare different in Miami; it doesn’t matter where they’re from, they’re always greasy, and they can never keep their hands to themselves.
    I thought about arguing these points to Jameson, but I knew they would fall on deaf ears. This was the job I had signed up for, and I had to be willing to make a few sacrifices. Besides, maybe there would be food at this club. If not, I could make do with a bucket full of maraschino cherries.
    •  •  •
    I walked out into the living room, where a gorgeous, model-thin black girl and a man in skinny jeans were animatedly talking to Daisy. After only thirty seconds, the man (who I immediately assumed must be Axel) already had Daisy’s hair portioned out and was curling it at lightning speed.
    Sharla spotted me and waved me toward the chair. “Come on over, Holly.”
    The last time I’d had my makeup done was for my senior picture, and that woman had made me look like an unemployed Cher impersonator, so I was a little nervous about this whole situation. Of course they made Daisy look amazing—she was naturally stunning, and at eighteen, no matter what you do to your body, it pretty much looks the same.
    “Hi,” I said shyly, climbing into the chair