“So what is Connor going to do?” Faith asked anxiously.
Lyric shrugged. “He’s meeting with whatever security firm my label hired, which is why I’m here. Makes more sense for me to be there, but I think Connor is afraid I’ll throw some tantrum.”
Julie eyed her with a glimmer of humor in her eyes. “Would you?”
“Maybe. Depends on what they had to say. Or how brainless they thought I was. And I don’t throw tantrums. I just voice my displeasure in a loud manner.”
Serena and Angelina laughed. And then Serena leaned forward. “I have to admit you look a lot different than I expected. Damon and I saw one of your shows in Vegas. You were so flashy and glamorous.”
Lyric winced and Serena put her hand to her mouth. “Not that you aren’t now. Oh hell. I’ll shut up now.”
Lyric laughed. “I don’t usually go anywhere without full makeup and wardrobe, but Connor seems to think the lower profile I am, the better. I haven’t even colored my hair since my last show. The first time Connor met me, I had pink hair. I don’t think he was impressed.”
Faith snickered and Julie rolled her eyes. “That’s because Connor has a stick up his ass,” Julie retorted.
“Julie, he does not,” Faith defended. “You’re always accusing him of being uptight.”
“Pretty good assessment, I’d say,” Lyric muttered.
“He’s a total sweetheart,” Angelina said.
Lyric rolled her eyes. “Oh sure, sweetie.”
The other women burst into laughter.
“She totally has you there,” Serena snickered.
“You know, I could do your hair,” Julie said thoughtfully. “Ice blue would look awesome with all that black hair. If you don’t want to be too noticeable, we could just do the tips.”
“Really?” Lyric asked.
“She’s a terrific stylist,” Faith said in a proud voice. “She owns her own business. She does hair, nails, massages.”
Serena nodded. “Yeah, she’s our Jill—or Julie—of all trades.”
“Connor would have a kitten if I left here. Maybe we could work it out one day when you’re free,” Lyric said.
Julie grinned. “Oh, we could send Sam out for what I need and we could do it here. One of you might have to forfeit a massage, but it could totally be done.”
Lyric twirled the ends of a thick strand and pulled it up to look, imagining how it would look dyed blue. She shrugged. “Hell, I’ll try anything once.”
“Oh, I like her,” Angelina said, her eyes sparkling with mischief.
“You would,” Serena said. “She’s our resident wild child,” she explained to Lyric.
Lyric’s brows went up. Sweet, angelic-looking Angelina? Beneath Angelina’s dusky skin, color bloomed and she ducked her head.
“Boy, that was a guilty look of acknowledgment if I ever saw one,” Lyric said. “I guess it’s true what they say. It’s the innocent-looking ones you have to watch out for.”
“Oh yes,” Julie chimed in. “Faith being a very close second in the heathen department.”
“Julie! Hush!”
Faith had turned bright red as a flush crept all the way up her throat and into her cheeks.
“I’m starting to feel frighteningly boring and normal,” Lyric said in bemusement. “I assure you that never happens. I’m usually the one people are looking at like I just lit my hair on fire.”
“If we’re going to do hair and whatever else we get inspiration for, I say we need wine,” Serena spoke up.
“Oh, I don’t drink,” Lyric was quick to say.
“What?” Julie scowled. “How can you be such a famous diva and not drink? Haven’t you ever gotten drunk and been arrested for indecent exposure or something?”
Lyric smirked. “Depends on which tabloid you read.”
“Seriously? You don’t drink?” Faith asked.
“Today you do,” Serena said as she turned and motioned for the driver. “Sam, can you bring us a few bottles of wine? Ask Damon for a suggestion. He’ll pick something good.”
As Sam departed, Serena turned and shrugged. “I’m pretty wine stupid. I mean, I love it, but know nothing about it. Damon, on the other hand, knows what wine you’re supposed to have with what food and what occasions, et cetera.”
“He does serve good wine,” Faith agreed.
“I’m not happy with any of you,” Angelina pouted. “I can’t have any wine, which means you all will have all the fun while I’m sitting here as big as a house.”
“I’ll make sure you get the first massage,” Julie soothed.
Two hours and six wine bottles later, Lyric couldn’t remember what her aversion to alcohol was. The wine was good. The world was good. The company was good. Everything was good.
And the room was spinning like a merry-go-round from hell.
She was sitting dutifully still as Julie worked on her hair.
“How much has she had to drink?” Lyric asked, gesturing over her shoulder to Julie.
Julie reached over Lyric’s shoulder and plucked a half-full wineglass and drained it. She set it back down with a thump. “Not nearly enough.”
“I’m watching her. She hasn’t had so much that it would impair her hair-doing skills,” Serena said in a solemn voice.
Faith giggled. “Hair doing?”
“Well, what else do you call it?” Serena asked in exasperation. “You look like an alien with all the aluminum foil, Lyric. Very impressive.”
Lyric smothered her laughter. Of any of them, Serena had drunk the most, and the girl was flying high. Although Lyric had to be close behind her because Serena kept filling her glass. And then the wine disappeared. It was the damnedest thing.
“I’m done here,” Julie announced. “Well, for the next twenty anyway. Then we’ll rinse you and dry you and voila, you’ll be Smurftastic.”
Angelina shot Julie a baleful look. “Smurftastic?”
“Yeah, you know, the Smurfs. Little blue people? Smurfette? Get it?”
Angelina’s expression was blank.
“You’re too young,” Julie grumbled. “And clearly your education is lacking.”
“Smurfette was hot,” Lyric said gravely.