Borrow-A-Bridesmaid Read Free Page B

qualified to take on in Sal’s and my clandestine dance club operation. When it’s clear he’s winding down, I swallow. “You’ve got me. Busted.”
    â€œWait, so what were you going to tell me?” Lin takes my plate, sets it on top of his, and carries it over to the sink.
    â€œI do have a plan.” I lean back, resting my elbows on the counter. “I’m going to rent myself out. As a bridesmaid.”
    He turns back from the sink, blinking at me. “Say what?”
    â€œThe inspiration came to me the other night when I was going through my stuff. I was looking at a picture from my cousin Lana’s wedding, and I remembered that I was the only one who could bustle her cracked-out Cinderella dress. And I was the only one who could talk Lana into a state of serenity when she got cramps right before the ceremony.”
    â€œThat’s way too much information, but I’ll forgive you.”
    â€œWhat do you think?”
    â€œHoney, I admire your ingenuity, I do. But . . .” He wipes his hands on a kitchen towel and comes over to stand on the other side of the counter, hands on his hips. “You’re too much of a star to be on the sidelines. And you already have a job where you’re treated like less than a person.”
    â€œThanks for reminding me.”
    â€œIf you take a second job, it shouldn’t be something else with an eau de subservience.”
    I frown. “You’re pissing on the happy mental montage I had going.”
    â€œYeah?”
    â€œThe sky was raining flower petals, and I was frolicking with a series of brides at the park as a hipster photographer snapped pictures and said things like ‘Be the sunshine!’ ”
    â€œI’ll grant you this—anyone would be lucky to have you gracing their wedding pics. You’re a total secret undercover babe.”
    I mock-bat my eyelashes at him, bristling with pleasure at his compliment.
    â€œCan I see what that looks like, by the way?” he says. “Your ‘Be the sunshine’ face?”
    I conjure the look: a coy smile, eyebrows raised, arms akimbo, head cocked to a 45-degree angle.
    He pats my shoulder. “Very sweet, but speaking of pissing—your montage is missing a bathroom scene where you’re hiking yards of chiffon up over the bridal hiney. Anyway, what kind of person hires a bridesmaid?”
    I un-akimbo my arms and cross them over my chest. “I met her earlier tonight. She seems legit.”
    â€œYou did what now?”
    â€œI met my first client after work.” I wipe my mouth with a napkin and pretend to be nonchalant. “She’s lovely.”
    â€œAnd where did you unearth this person?”
    I hesitate. “It may or may not have been Craigslist.”
    He aims a pointer finger at me. “We’ll skip the part where I reprimand you for risking your life. Let me say this: That’s how people get their kidneys stolen. One minute it’s all, ‘Oh, I’ll just pop by and see this nice lady who needs a bridesmaid.’ The next, you’re prostrate on a bloodstained metal table, being poked at by rusty cutting tools.”
    I roll my eyes. “Don’t be dramatic. Her name’s Susan Bell, and she’s very nice. She’s a cellist in the Baltimore Symphony, actually. Her cousin, who was supposed to be a bridesmaid, got in a car accident last week and has a couple broken ribs. Her best female friend is already in the wedding, and her other friends are all men who play large brass instruments. On top of that, she found out her little brother’s going through a painful breakup and she wants to match him up with a single bridesmaid.” I shrug. “So your master plan of me pimping myself out is pretty much coming to pass.”
    My heart had been pounding when I knocked on the door of her second-floor apartment in Alexandria earlier in the evening. But as soon as she