Starfire (Peaches Monroe #3)(33)
Author: Mimi Strong

“That’s right!” I’d almost forgotten about the photo shoot from several weeks ago—the promo for Dalton’s indie movie. “I hope the pictures turn out.”

The stand-up bass player grinned and pulled out his phone. “Some preview shots are online already, and they’re hysterical.”

He showed me a photo, and the shot was so stunning, I had to try hard to convince myself the gorgeously curvy blonde was me. I was dancing with Charlie (the guy who played Dalton’s brother in the indie movie), while the seven-man band played amidst bales of hay. The second photo in the series showed three actors in teddy bear costumes attacking the set and terrorizing everyone.

In light of the previous night’s horror, the fake bears didn’t seem so amusing to me, personally, but the double-page shots were gorgeous.

“You should go on tour with us,” the man said.

I laughed. “I can’t sing.”

“Neither can we, but we don’t let it stop us.”

“Don’t lie! You guys are amazing.”

His cheeks reddened and he chanted, “I will take compliments. I will take compliments.”

We both laughed over the oddities of being in the public eye, and I eventually got my lunch order and rushed back to work.

I tried to lose myself in the routine, and pretend that the day was no different than any other Friday, but it was different.

On Saturday morning, I had a date lined up with Dalton Deangelo, and, as far as I knew, we’d be getting married for the benefit of the press.

Everything was happening so quickly, and I still hadn’t told anyone. I hadn’t even looked at the engagement ring. Part of me believed that if I ignored the issue, it would just go away. (I think we all know how well that worked out with my unplanned pregnancy.)

~

I got home after work to an empty house, because Shayla was working late. Usually, if I didn’t have Friday night plans with friends, I’d have dinner with my family, but my mother had messaged that she was canning pickles from the garden, so the boys were going out for a boys’ night. I thought about joining her to help with canning, but my mother can get a little intense about her brines.

Alone in the empty house, I downloaded and listened to Shake Your Peaches while I broke out the adult beverages. What goes best with shots of vodka? Beer. Also, Hot Pockets, Philly Cheese Steak flavor, with a side of sour cream.

“Happy bachelorette party!” I told myself as I prepared the plate.

Me and my party favors danced all the way up to my room, where I busted out the laptop and started shopping. There were so many great sales on! And free shipping! I got genuinely excited for Future Peaches, who was going to get so many amazing things delivered… if only I could click the checkout button.

“This has never happened before,” I told my laptop, and it was the truth. My finger went limp when it was time to finish the business. I couldn’t commit to a single internet order. Not even one pair of rainbow toe socks, half price.

My laptop was put to bed unsatisfied.

I had a few more shots of vodka, thinking that would help, but the booze only enhanced the feelings I was already having—feelings of fear and uncertainty.

I put my head down on my pillow to rest for a minute, since it was barely ten o’clock. Sleep quickly took me in its padded-walls embrace. Secure in sleep’s straight jacket, I dreamed of dogs and bears at a picnic, laughing at me as I ran around catching ripe fruit, falling from the sky, in the folds of my skirt. I twirled, and the white skirt expanded all around me, turning the whole world into lace.

The clouds in the sky spelled out one word. Love.

The only thing that mattered was love.

~

Vern arrived to pick me up precisely at six in the morning, as arranged.

I’d been awake since five, and was showered and ready to go, my overnight bag packed. I had a slight hangover from the night before, but luckily I’d fallen asleep before I could do too much harm to myself or my credit card.

Vern stood on my porch, looking cheerful.

“Miss Monroe, I took the liberty of getting you a mocha from Java Jones. It’s waiting in the car.”

“Forget Dalton Deangelo, I want to marry you, Vern. Seriously. What will it take?”

“I don’t mean to be gauche, ma’am, but you’re not my type.”

“I don’t have the right equipment? Honey, I could get one of those harness things, and we could turn out all the lights and—oh, f**k! I’m sexually harassing you. Fuck me with a big box of f**ks, I’m so embarrassed, Vern.”

He held the door of the car open for me. “I’m not feeling harassed, but I will decline your offer.”

“That’s good, because I’m already engaged to someone else, as you may know.”

“Someone with smoldering green eyes?”

I began to giggle uncontrollably as I slipped into the back seat.

Vern gave me a knowing look and circled around to the driver’s seat.

I sipped my mocha quietly on the drive out to the tip of Dragonfly Lake, where we drove past the cabin Dalton was renovating, to a dock with a float plane.

“Mr. Deangelo is meeting us there,” Vern explained when he saw me looking around.

I approached the plane cautiously, the suitcase I’d borrowed from Shayla making loud noises on the wooden dock as it rolled.

“He’s meeting us in LA?” I asked.

“No, San Francisco.”

“Why not LA? Wouldn’t that be a better location for all the press?”

“His favorite wedding gown designer is in San Francisco. The first fittings are today, and there are other plans for Sunday.”

I stopped and looked up at the blue sky. “Vern, I can be dense sometimes, but are you saying the wedding isn’t this weekend?”

He laughed. “This weekend? That would be preposterous. We haven’t even discussed the dinner menu.”

“Why did I think anything with Dalton Deangelo could be simple and quick?” I held up my hand. “Don’t answer. That’s a rhetorical question.”

Vern swung open the door of the small plane and took my suitcase as I stepped up into the vessel. As he got my luggage stowed away and pointed out the safety features of the small, private plane, I tried to maintain a neutral expression.

We stood together in the center of the plane, which was even tinier than Dalton’s Airstream trailer inside. What was it about that man and his little tin cans?

Vern pointed out the fire extinguisher and other things I hoped to never use.