Love Arrangements

ANGELA

To the press, I was Angela, the ditzy blonde artist wannabe, heir to a multi-million-dollar pharmaceutical empire.

A rebel without a cause, just like my mother, who chose to travel the world with an indie pop band instead of taking over the family business.

In reality, that was so far from the truth that it never felt like they actually talked about me at all.

The only thing my mom and I had in common was the fact that both of us were carbon copies of my grandma, who, at the respectable age of eighty, was still very much a babe.

Well, not exactly, but you know what I mean.

However, in her youthful days, Alitta Carson was the epitome of the femme fatale stereotype. And she most definitely had it all: ethereal beauty, a witty mind, and the Midas touch when it came to making money.

She took the business world by surprise, charming her way through any locked door, grabbing any opportunity by the neck, and then bringing it to its knees.

Anything she set her eyes on, she went after it with the force of a hurricane—swift and unstoppable. I like to think that’s the one thing my grandma passed on to me. I mean, other than spectacular genes.

Sure, it would have been nice if that package deal came with 10 percent of her biz flair; that would have made our lives so much easier. Unlike my mom, I would have loved to be my Nana’s right-hand woman, learning all the ins and outs from her.

And I tried with all my might, shadowing her since I was a teen, spending all my free time in her office, and picking her brain each chance I got.

But, in the end, despite acing the theoretical side, when it came to the nitty-gritty of rubbing elbows, reading the room, and striking the best deal, I was absolutely clueless. Huh, I might actually be the airhead everyone thinks I am.

“Earth to Angela! What has got you so lost in your thoughts? You seemed miles away. Actually, nevermind. I saw some hotties in the corner; they just walked in. Work your magic and have them over. This was starting to get boring.”

Snapping out of my rambling thoughts, a blue set of eyes are staring back at me with a puzzled look. Framed by perfectly styled jet-black long hair and porcelain skin, Lory is my exact opposite, appearance-wise.

All in all, she is undeniably a beautiful woman. And my best friend. Actually, no, she is more than that. Lory is my ride or die.

We practically grew up together since her father is my grandma’s accountant. And to Lory, who was raised by a single dad, Nana is just as much of a mother figure to her as she is to me.

And I am so happy that she just always gets me—the real me.

But Lo is way more extroverted than I have ever been. Can’t say having the spotlight on me is really my jam, but being who I am, that is a given regardless of whether I like it or not.

Lory, on the other hand, thrives when she has all eyes on her, and I never mind helping her shine. I wasn’t really in a party mood tonight, but she convinced me to go out and check out this new, up-and-coming fancy club.

Chill house parties—where you could actually talk and see people—were more my speed, and I’ve dragged her to enough of those, so I kind of owe her.

“Sure, Lo. First, let’s grab some drinks. I need to release some of this pent-up stress on the dance floor. And I definitely wanna get my buzz on before dancing.”

“Girl, what you need is to have your chimney swept. When was the last time you screamed your voice raw thanks to a rando with a huge dick?”

That makes me spit out the last remaining drop of my cocktail, and I burst out laughing. “You know damn well I’ve never had that happen to me. And that’s not my MO. I need more than fleeting nights. And since Bruce…well…”

“Angela Marie Carson, you’re telling me that since you broke up with that fuckboy Spruce a year ago, you’ve been…abstinent? I thought you were just shy on me or ashamed of your sexscapades, but this is worse than I thought. Bitch, how are you still alive? I could never…”

“Lower your voice, would you? The gossip column has enough printed material about me as it is. And it’s not like Bruce was some sort of sex guru, anyway; I mostly did all the work, so there’s not much of a difference now. I have my toys. They keep me…afloat.”

“Nope, tsk tsk. We have to end this dry spell tonight, and getting some BDE up in you is exactly what the doctor ordered. Wait here. I’m going to do some recon.”

***

And she was off before I got any say in. Truth is, when Lory set her mind on stuff, it was hard to reel her in; you just have to go with the flow. That was mainly the reason we got into so much trouble together.

But there was something I admired about her—she always knew how to get her way and have her needs met, even if she had to bend the rules a little.

That, combined with the fact she was a math wiz, would have made her a perfect candidate for the CEO position my grandma was currently occupying.

And we both pitched that idea to Nana several times, but she always politely declined it, saying that the board would make Lory’s life unnecessarily hard.

Looking back on that night, I wish it would have ended with me faking an orgasm in some random guy’s bed before I went back to sip my morning coffee with my grandma like I always did.

Hell, I would have even agreed with whatever ridiculously wild idea Lory might have had for the afterparty. Or maybe if I’d just headed home or never gone out in the first place…maybe if I was there, I could have saved her.

However, there’s one thing I know with absolute certainty—that night, Nana wasn’t the only one who died. Old Angela, the dizzy blonde, with her naivete and ingenuousness, has left this world as well.

It was a must for me if I were to stand any chance of surviving my new life without Nana…which was about to get much, much worse.