by Alexa Woods
And finally, she responded to Unicornspooprainbowsandsprinkles498.
Chapter 4
Morgun
Morgun wasn’t sure how a few messages could end in a very late, eight-thirty meeting at a coffee shop on a Monday night, but apparently they could.
She hadn’t expected Laney to respond to the message Chelsea fired off. And it wasn’t like she had checked her inbox every hour or anything. When she saw a response, she nearly fell off her chair. Laney said that she’d like to meet in person since she wasn’t good at the online stuff. She wanted to know if Morgun was game for it. Morgun’s immediate impulse was to delete the message and not respond to it, but she couldn’t help herself.
So now she was waiting in an empty coffee shop, cross legged, sipping on a chai latte which was far too sweet and tasted too much like cinnamon for her liking. The place closed at ten, so it wasn’t a wonder it was as barren as those old western ghost towns.
Laney was late. Of course, she was late. Why would she ever be considerate of other people’s time?
Morgun felt ridiculous. Why was she even doing this? Because Chelsea thought it was a good idea? Because secretly there was some wicked little bit of herself that thought she deserved some sort of vindication for Laney making it while she didn’t? Was she just jealous? Did she really want revenge that badly? Did she want to go through with Chelsea’s plan and steal contacts from Laney? Or was she simply curious, and unable to stop herself?
Morgun tried to convince herself it was just the latter. She didn’t want to think that she’d be able to pull off schemes or want revenge so badly that she’d show up, ready to serve it piping hot. Unlike the latte, which was served to her lukewarm. Maybe that’s why it was so syrupy.
In the middle of her internal debate, Laney swept in through the door like an actual freaking hurricane. The place was decked out in Christmas crap and the huge green wreath on the door nearly fell off, the door was swung open so violently. It clattered shut behind Laney, who stood there looking around for all of half a second, probably at the Christmas lights on the wall and the other gaudy décor throughout the place, until her eyes fixed on Morgun.
Morgun didn’t mean to, but she shifted uncomfortably on the already uncomfortable wooden chair. She felt her face heat up. Her freckles were probably glowing, which happened when she blushed.
Laney nodded at her, then stalked over to the counter. To Morgun’s surprise, Laney didn’t hesitate to talk to the guy behind it in a familiar, friendly manner.
“Hey, Jim, how’s it going this week?”
“Laney. Haven’t seen you in forever. Did you finally buy your own machine like you were threatening and start making your coffees at home?”
“Nope. Just been busy. I’ll have the usual.”
“Two shots of espresso, coming right up.”
Gross. Who drinks espresso at this time of night? Or ever?
Laney waited up at the counter while Jim, a guy in his late twenties who wore a casual t-shirt and jeans that made it very obvious that he worked out, served up her espresso shots in a huge paper cup.
Morgun detested the shop. She’d never been there before. It was far out of her way. She didn’t live even remotely close, but when Laney suggested it, without even asking her what area of the city she lived in, she’d instantly agreed. The place was tiny, tacky, too Christmassy, and Jim was clearly hitting on Laney like he’d hit on Morgun. If he knew Laney, didn’t he know he was barking up the wrong tree? Or maybe he didn’t care?
Morgun shuddered and hunkered down lower over the drink. She wasn’t sure if she could stomach another sip. Or another minute. Why the heck had she ever let Chelsea send that message in the first place?
Laney pulled out a chair across from her and sent Jim a pointed look that told him to get lost and quit listening in. Morgun was more than shocked when Jim scuttled off to the back rather quickly.
“So,” Laney said, obviously over-conversational, as she hunkered down in the chair with her double espresso.
Laney tipped back the cup, finished both shots in a single, long gulp, then set it down hard. Her face was beautiful but also crazy intimidating. She was apparently the kind of person who looked another person in the eye like she was ready to take them down, like a hunter targeting its prey.
Morgun gulped. Yeah, Laney was pretty. Gorgeous, in fact, with her long, silky hair that was so dark there were blue highlights in it from all the flashing lights in the shop. Her face was a masterpiece. Oval shaped. Slightly curled nose, sharp cheekbones, full lips, piercingly dark eyes. From her filled-in brows to her cherry red lipstick, her makeup was flawless. She had on a pair of black ripped up skinny jeans and a black blouse that was totally sheer, with a black lace bra beneath. That too was a little bit shocking to Morgun.
If Laney couldn’t make a living on one side of the lens, she could easily have done it on the other. Her style was effortless, and she really did have that confident, model air about her. Morgun wouldn’t have been caught dead in what Laney was wearing, but somehow looking at the other woman made her want to rush out and get a pair of her own ripped up black jeans. She’d never worn black jeans in her life. She hated jeans. She was more of a leggings, yoga pants, breezy skirts and long dresses kind of a girl.
“I’ll get right to the point, since it’s late and you probably have better things to be doing than sitting here drinking that god-awful latte. I can smell it.” Laney’s nostrils flared. “The lattes here are shit. Way too sweet. Too much cinnamon.” Morgun felt herself wanting to get up and apologize to Jim on Laney’s behalf. “Anyway, I lied in the profile. I couldn’t just write what I wanted to write and expect the moderators or admin or whoever not to delete it. The truth is, I’m only looking for a date for my brother’s wedding. It’s on Saturday. That’s it. There would be no after. No seeing where things go.”
Morgun’s hand curled around her cup so hard that the lid looked like it was about to pop off. She imagined it happening, her latte spewing like a volcano all over the table.
“I’d even be willing to pay,” Laney went on, obviously misinterpreting Morgun’s silence. Then again, maybe she didn’t. Morgun had no idea how she was supposed to respond to that.
She wasn’t wrong about Laney Sterling being cold-hearted and mean. She’d suspected that she was basically just advertising for a date, but to hear her say it like that, just put it out there the second she sat down, with no preamble…what did she expect the other person to think?
Morgun was disgusted with more than just her latte. She was disgusted with herself for even showing up at the shop. For messaging Laney back. For even considering anything about Chelsea’s plan and for her own damn curiosity, which obviously refused to be satisfied after she’d seen Laney’s profile.
There was something magnetic about Laney that drew people in. Obviously, something like a vortex or a Medusa or another terrible phenomenon. Morgun could only imagine what getting to know Laney would be like. Did she even have friends? No wonder she couldn’t get a date the normal way.
“Um, I think you were on the wrong site then,” Morgun snapped. “That site is for dating. Not escorts services.”
She wished she could shove her chair back from the table and make a fast exit, or better yet, pop the top off her latte for real and let it spew all over Laney’s stunned face, but of course, her chair stuck fast when she planted her feet to push back, and she went nowhere. And the lid on her latte proved to be on much tighter than she thought because when she squeezed harder, nothing happened.
Laney appeared unbothered by the statement. She just shrugged. “I don’t want to bring an escort. It’s my brother’s wedding. I have my reasons. I figured someone would like to make a couple hundred bucks. It’s not for sex and it’s certainly not sugaring, since it’s not an ongoing relationship. We’d both benefit. I need a date. Someone else would get to go to a fun wedding with great food and make some extra cash. It’s Christmas. Everyone probably needs extra cash.”
“Who gets married at Christmas?” Morgun dropped all efforts to be polite.
“I have no idea.” Laney shrugged. “My brother, apparently. I knew we should have gone out for drinks instead.”
Morgun grunted. Did Laney just try to make a joke? Did she think this was funny? That having some weird sense of humor would make any of this better?
“So you’re assuming that because I messaged you as a normal person looking for another normal person to date, or at least do some fun stuff with and get to know, that I’d be willing to take cash to go to a wedding where I don’t know anyone and basically pretend that we’re dating?”
“You wouldn’t have to sell it too hard. The stipulation was that I bring a date. Not that I was dating.”
“Jesus. What stipulation?”
For the first time, Laney looked slightly off focus. She quickly glanced around and scowled at God only knows what. The tacky décor? Jim secretly listening in? Life? The world in general?
“It doesn’t matter. I just need a date. The wedding’s on Saturday. It’s one day. From two in the afternoon until it’s over, around one in the morning probably. I’m not in the wedding party. You won’t get left floundering on your own. It won’t be one of those horrible weddings where everyone hates everyone else and people get into quarrels. I’m willing to pay a thousand dollars.”
“A thousand bucks? You think if you pay someone a thousand dollars that they’ll just do whatever you want them to do? Sell out for a grand? How are you not treating me like I’m an escort? I’d be selling myself for payment!”
“Not that kind of selling yourself.” Laney appeared more annoyed than anything. “You’re taking this the wrong way.”
“Oh, I’m sorry, is there a different way to take it? I was expecting some pleasant conversation. Proof that you cared enough about me as a human being to take some kind of interest. You obviously just came here tonight seeing me as this thing you could use as a means to an end. You thought I’d just fall all over the place in a hurry to accept cash? That I’d be so desperate that I’d have absolutely no self-respect?” She laughed. “That’s so like you. Always stepping all over everyone else to get what you want.”
This time, Morgun’s chair did scrape back. She left her latte on the table as a final fuck you and stormed out the door. This time, she was the one who just about knocked the stupid wreath clean off its perch. At the last minute, she thought better of it and whirled around.
“Merry fucking Christmas to you too,” she spat in disgust, then she noticed a wide-eyed Jim leaning near the back wall, out of sight of the tables, but not out of sight from the door. “And you too, Jim. Have a good one.”
He nodded. “You too,” he called back, quite comically.
Morgun found herself forgiving Jim for listening in and for making her the worst latte in the history of the entire world. She gave him a tight-lipped smile, aimed another scowl at Laney, who probably hadn’t even blinked since Morgun got up from the table, and hurried out the door.
Chapter 5
Morgun
“I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t just sit there and pretend. I couldn’t even take it. She was so…horrible. Awful. Condescending. Mean. Inhuman. Unfeeling. Weird. Creepy. She wanted to pay me a grand to go to the wedding with her and she made it clear that’s all she wanted. She didn’t even ask me what my name was. She didn’t ask one single thing about me. It was like I was just this thing she could use and bend to her will and she never once thought that I’d have a different opinion about it or actual thoughts and feelings. You know. Like a normal human being.”
“That makes sense.” Chelsea’s voice crackled with sympathy over the phone. “She’s clearly a sociopath.” Then she laughed, which only pissed Morgun off further. “At least she’s direct, if nothing else. It sucks when people just beat around what they really want to say and make you guess at their evil intentions.”
Morgun had called Chelsea as soon as she arrived back at her apartment. “Come on! You don’t seriously think I could just sit there and listen to that, do you? Or that I’d sell myself out for her so easily?”
“No, not easily. You should have made her work for it. Negotiated. If you didn’t want to take advantage of her and act all schemy-scammy, you could have at least been honest about what you really wanted.”
“Oh, and what’s that? A list of contacts? A step up to where I want to be?”
“Yes. Exactly. That would have been even better than tricking her into giving it to you.”
“Chelsea! Jesus!”
“I’m serious.”
Morgun huffed loudly. The line hissed and crackled and Chelsea sighed right back with extreme flair, just to be annoying. Soon enough, Chelsea, because she was Chelsea and always had some brilliant idea or other—no one could ever accuse her of not being a quick thinker—was back on a roll.
“I think you should message her back. In three days. On Thursday. The wedding is on Saturday? Make her sweat. I can guarantee she won’t find someone else.”
“I hope she does. There’s no way I’m spending even a minute with her.”
“I think you could. I think you could do a lot of things to get where you really want to be.”
“Now you sound worse than she did.”
“I’m just saying. Your work is amazing. The world should see it. You have a great business, yes, but you’re never going to be happy doing it because it’s not truly what you want to be doing. You shouldn’t just be doing family portraits and all those horrible weddings that no other photographer would ever agree to do—”
“Hey!”
“I’m just saying. You’re worth so much more than that, and if you don’t think anyone is ever going to give you the opportunity, you have to take it! You have to fight for it! I think you could stand spending one night with Miss Wicked Fire Farting Dragon in public, where it would not even be a requirement to do the smallest romantic thing, if it could make your whole career. Please tell me you’ll reconsider.”
“She’ll find someone else. Someone desperate enough to take the money. Maybe she’ll even up the offer.”
“No, she won’t. She’s looking on the wrong platform. Everyone is going to be offended by that. Or by her. No one is going to put up with that and most people hate weddings. Christmas weddings must be extra horrible because everyone is stressed over the holidays as it is. Or everyone is busy. She probably won’t find anyone because almost everyone has plans for Christmas already. I swear, if you leave it to the last minute, she’s going to be so desperate that she’ll give you anything you want.”
“She’s so terrible though! She probably would think of a way out of it. Give me some fake contact or something.”
“Make her arrange a meeting, then. Set it up before you go to the wedding, even if it’s just over the phone. Give you some contacts and have them contact you to prove that she’s good on her word.”
“Hmm. I never thought of that. You’re kind of brilliant at this backstabbing stuff, Chels.”
“I know,” Chelsea laughed. “I am brilliant, but at all things. Not just the backstabbing.” She waited for all of two seconds before she tactlessly pressed on. “So, are you going to do it? Contact her?”
“God! I don’t know. That’s still three days away. A lot can happen in three days. I’m sure she’ll find someone.”
“I guarantee she won’t.”
“She might.”
“Come on! This is your chance! Don’t throw it away. It’s like, what, ten hours?”
“Probably more like twelve.”
“That’s half a day! You can do it! This could change the rest of your life! If you don’t do it, you’re going to regret it when you’re shooting that crying baby or that disgustingly in love couple or that wedding where everyone is a zilla something or other.”
“You know what I regret? Telling you about every bad day I’ve ever had. And the good ones too.”
Chelsea laughed loudly and slightly obnoxiousl
y again. “No, you don’t. You don’t regret anything when it comes to me, because I’m the most perfect best friend in the entire world and you love me like a sister from a different mister!”
“An annoying mister, who passed down his annoying genetics.”
“Annoying or not, you know I’m right. That’s why you’re getting testy.”
“I’m not getting testy. Don’t use that word with me.”
“Fine. Defensive then. She can’t be that bad…”
“You don’t know her!” Morgun flung herself down on her living room couch. She’d bought it second hand and she forgot about the rogue spring that liked to stab her in the butt every time she sat on the left side. As it was, it jabbed her straight in the back and she rolled away instinctively, reaching for the spot with one hand, combatting tears, and holding her phone with the other.
Ugh. Even the thought of Laney could be dangerous. Maybe this is karma. A sign that I shouldn’t be doing this.
“No, but I know you. Just think about your future self. Future Morgun will thank present Morgun.”
“Present Morgun does thank me.”
“Yeah, well, present Morgun should suck it up.”
“Why did you ever send that message?” Morgun groaned. Her back still pulsed with fire and she wished right now that she could hang up on Chelsea and call some waste disposal company to come get the cursed couch. She bought it because it was antique. Rusty orange. MCM. All that good stuff. It turned out to be scratchy and springy and mean. Not at all what she’d anticipated.
One day, couch, it’s just going to be you and me and a match. You won’t be so tough then.
“I was thinking about you. About your career. Plus, I knew you’d respond if she messaged you back. You obviously did. That makes you guilty or game or both.”
“I really don’t want to do this. And please don’t say game. I’m not game. And I’m not guilty either.”
