Calendar Girl: November(3)

By: Audrey Carlan



I really needed to get out with the girls more. Ginelle had been bugging me for two weeks to go shopping with her in LA. I’d have to do that when I got back.

Heather pulled me out of Wes’s arms and into hers, swayed me left and right, and then held me at arm's length and looked me over. “Girl, didn’t I buy you clothes in Miami? Why aren’t you wearing them?” Her nose crinkled up in a way that wasn’t meant to be bitchy, just honest.

I groaned and shook my head. “I’m comfortable.” I tugged at my long-sleeved concert T-shirt from the Lorde show I’d seen with Maddy last year. That chick had brought the house down, and the shirt was damn cool. I’d paired it with a pair of my tight faded jeans, complete with shredded holes in the thighs, and a pair of two-inch shit kickers, as Max called them—though I’d never kicked any shit in them and they were relatively new. Cindy had sent a pair to Maddy and me to remind us of what was waiting for us back in Texas. They were really cool, too. Black leather, an interesting design on the toe, and a more square than pointed toe. The best part? They had this rockin’ buckle on the outside where the ankle was.

Heather clocked the shoes. “Hmm, the boots are cute.”

Wes cleared his throat behind me.

“Oh, snap. Heather, you remember my boyfriend, Wes?” I gestured to Wes’s shoulder.

“Um, I think you mean fiancé, sweetheart.” He smirked and winked.

Heather’s eyes widened as if she’d been electrocuted on the spot. “Holy black balls, Batman! You’re getting married! That is so awesome!” She pulled both of us into a combo hug, looping one arm each around our necks. “Heck, yeah. Anton is gonna love this. Weddings are his gig!”

I snort laughed. “How’s that? Seeing as he’s never been married.”

“Yeah, but he’s been engaged a bunch of times!” she said flippantly. She led us through the spacious penthouse to the kitchen, where we found Anton moving his hips against the six-burner stove to a beat only he could hear. The room smelled utterly divine. I caught a whiff of something sizzling that reminded me of food south of the border.

“Who’s getting married?” Anton spun around, wooden spatula still in hand. “Lucita! You? Tell me it isn’t so.” He crossed both hands over his heart and shrank back against the counter’s edge.

I laughed. Wes didn’t. He slung an arm over my shoulders. “Yep. Show ’em your ring. We’ll be getting married on the first of January.” His words were filled with male pride.

I held up my hand and looked at Wes, confused.

Anton’s eyes widened. “So soon. Wow. As my grandmother would say, you do not lollygag.” He grinned and winked.

“We did not set a date.” I cocked my head toward Wes.

His eyebrows rose sharply. “I believe we did right before we came. Remember?”

“Anything discussed during the heat of coital bliss does not count. That’s coercion!” I puffed out my bottom lip.

Wes grinned and shook his head. “Too bad. You agreed. Now all that’s left to decide is where.” He tunneled his fingers into the hair at my neck where he proceeded to massage the tension still there from a full day of travel not to mention the weight of getting engaged. I still hadn’t even called Maddy or Gin. They’d freak if it got out before I’d had a chance to call them.

“We’ll talk about this later. Okay?” I leaned up and kissed him once, and then twice for good measure so he’d know I wasn’t blowing him off.

He curled his hand around my cheek to cup my face. With ease, I turned my head and kissed his palm. His eyes were leery, but I could see that a lot of that likely had to do with where and who we were hanging out with tonight.

“Okay, sweetheart. Later. As in, tomorrow.” His response was firm and held an edge of authority.

A compromise was a compromise. “Agreed. Now, Anton, tell me what you’ve been doing. Your last album rocked, by the way!”

“Oh, Lucita, that album was the shiznet. Did you like that one song where I dubbed over a chick's voice?”

“Totally! And Heather, how’s the role of manger treating you?” The last time I’d seen them, she had just been promoted. Anton had not realized how much he was taking advantage of his best friend and personal assistant. And when he was about to lose her, he offered her more to stay. As far as I knew, it was all peaches and cream.

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