Not My Romeo (The Game Changers #1)(64)

She cocks her hip and takes in my tailored dress suit, a soft lavender set that Nana used to wear, only I hemmed the skirt a tad shorter and adjusted the lapel of the blazer for a more modern look. No use letting Nana’s beautiful style go to waste, and I swear I can feel her personality in the fabric, daring me to go after my dreams.

“Nice suit. Where you going all fancy?”

I glance over at Mama a few feet away. She doesn’t fool me for a minute. She may be nodding her head at everything Birdie says, but I know her ears are tuned in. “Just a meeting in Nashville. Got off early from the library to make it.”

Aunt Clara grins and pats her chair. “Get up in here.”

I nod and take my hair out of the messy bun and take the chair.

She runs her fingers through it and meets my eyes in the mirror. “You’re really meeting that football player, aren’t you? You don’t have to lie to me. I’m ready for it. Let’s rope him in. You play your cards right, and there just might be a wedding at that church before Giselle’s.”

I huff out a laugh. “No date, I swear. Meeting.”

She never stops brushing my hair, but I can see the wheels in her head spinning. “Huh. Job interview, then? That’s a power suit if I ever saw one.”

“What job?” Mama asks from across the room.

I groan. Bionic ears.

“Not a job interview! Just a meeting!” I call out, and she narrows beady eyes at me.

I drop my gaze. I swear she knows when I’m lying.

Aunt Clara’s fingers go to work on my scalp, and I lean back and let out a sigh, letting the stupid anxiety of being near Jack at rehearsals this week drift away. Being his Juliet is . . . excruciating. And we haven’t even kissed onstage yet, both of us just pausing and slightly hugging, pretending like it’s happening. It’s coming soon, when Laura is going to insist on us actually doing it. And dang, just being near him drives me batty. And of course, we can’t forget that blow job the first night, when I couldn’t resist him once he goaded me into kissing him. I could blame it on the jealousy of Ms. Clark, but deep down, I just wanted one more taste of him. Literally. I smirk at that, recalling how much he wanted me, that tiny bit of heady power I felt at his feet. The way he looked at me, as if he’d never get enough . . .

Who knew doing that would give me all the control—

“You’re smiling. What kind of meeting?” Aunt Clara asks as she twists my hair up. She leans down to my ear. “It’s that flimsy lingerie, isn’t it? I saw that one with the little cats on it. Snazzy. A little too sparkly for me, but Scotty might get excited. Think you can make one in my size? I thought about squeezing my hips in that one but didn’t want to damage it.” She giggles.

I nearly jump out of the chair but grip the edge of the seat. “Who told you?”

She titters, her face settling into lines of mirth. “Shhh. Girl. Nobody. I just happened to drop off some of your mama’s leftover casserole that Sunday you missed church and saw all of them fancy things on the dress forms. Quite creative, you are. I may have read an email you’d printed off.”

“Aunt Clara! That was private! And that door was locked! I make sure every time I leave the house.”

“I grew up in that house. All it takes is a bobby pin, Elena. And I didn’t mean to pry—okay, I did—but you’ve been so secretive every time I come over about that room; I was worried you had a hot man locked up in there.”

I let out an exaggerated breath. “You are too nosy. And to punish you, I will never tell you anything.”

“I have access to all the Sun Drops in the whole town. You need me.”

I glance around at the ladies waiting for their appointments, the other stylists who work here. I land on Mama. “If you tell her, I’ll kill you.”

Her hands grow still in my hair, and for once her gaze is serious as she meets mine. “Honey, I won’t.”

Mama finishes up with Birdie, and they chat as they head to the counter at the front. I think I’m safe until Birdie stops at my chair. In her late fifties, she’s as gossipy now as she was when I was in school and she was the secretary. “Elena, you’re looking well.”

She’s lying. Between rehearsals with Jack and being ramped up about my meeting with Marcus and the lingerie company, I have dark circles under my eyes, and my face is decidedly pale. I murmur a thank-you and return the favor. I can dish out the southern sweetness like everyone else.

“How’s that play going? Ms. Clark can’t stop talking about how fun it is, although I do think she wishes she’d auditioned for the role of Juliet. She is younger than you and would have been perfect.” She grins. “I think she has quite the crush on that handsome quarterback. They’d make an adorable couple.”

I meet her gaze in the mirror, and I don’t know where the words come from except that Ms. Clark is a sore spot with me, even though Jack hasn’t shown any interest. She’d probably sign that NDA in a heartbeat. And dammit, she is younger than me, but I’m Juliet!

“He has a girlfriend, I’m afraid. He talks about her constantly.”

Birdie leans in. “Really? Who?”

I feel Aunt Clara’s muffled laughter behind me.

“A girl he met on Valentine’s Day. Maybe you saw the picture of them—pretty sure it was on one of those gossipy TV shows Topher watches. He’s really smitten. Maybe you should tell her so she doesn’t fawn all over him at practice.”