“Personal assistant?” Tinsley’s lips curl into an amused grin. “Is that what Winny’s calling her?”
Perry chuckles. “For now. Do you have something she could wear?”
“Don’t you think we ought to do something about her face and hair first?” Tinsley asks, frowning. “Mother will lose her mind if Winston’s ‘personal assistant’ shows up looking anything less than perfect.”
“Jac and Gus will be here soon. I already texted Keaton to grab them and bring them back here.” Perry gestures at his little sister. “Why aren’t you dressed?”
She shrugs, her bottom lip pouting out slightly. “I don’t feel like it.”
“Mother won’t stand for a no-show, Tins,” Perry says, his voice firm. “You need to get dressed.”
She’s saved from further big brother bossiness when the bedroom door opens, drawing all of our attention. Another Constantine, much younger than Winston but still a hot replica of him, strides in, arrogance rippling from him. His tuxedo fits him well, showcasing a muscular, athletic body. Where Tinsley and Perry have a warmness about them, something feels much colder with the new arrival.
“Keaton,” Perry greets. “Where are Jac and Gus?”
“Unloading their car.” Keaton’s eyes land on me, and he narrows them. “You must be the charity case.”
Tinsley mutters something under her breath about him being rude, and Perry clenches his jaw. I, however, am not unnerved. If anything, he reminds me the most of Winston. And there’s a familiarity in his coldness that I immediately warm to.
“In the flesh,” I say with a shrug. “Winston wants me at his party. Someone thought I shouldn’t go and tried to stop me. But we all know Winston gets what he wants no matter the cost.”
Keaton smirks, and Perry rolls his eyes while Tinsley smothers a grin.
“We’re here!” a high-pitched voice sings. “Miss Tinsley, you look ravishing. Give us fifteen minutes and you’ll be ready for the—oh, sweet baby Jesus do not tell me this is what we’re working our magic on!”
A small, short man with pink hair and a lip ring is gaping at me like I’m a disease he might catch. Right behind him, a heavier-set guy loaded down with bags grunts, also unsure as he sizes me up. Unlike his prissy other half, he’s dressed in a T-shirt and jeans with jet-black hair styled messily on his head.
“Gustavo,” the little man whines, waving a wild hand at me. “Feast your eyes on this monstrosity! This is going to be impossible. I mean, just look at all that splotchiness on her face! Don’t even get me started on the fright that’s her hair!”
Keaton laughs, smacking Perry on the back. “Maybe you should be paying them double. He’s right. She’s a mess, man.”
Perry straightens and stalks over to me. “Charge me whatever it takes, Jac, but make it happen. She needs to not only be party ready, but she needs to be the highlight of tonight. Make her stand out.”
Jac scoffs. “Don’t insult me. You know my brother and I are the best.” He then turns to regard me with narrowed eyes, gesturing at my messy, damp bun. “The hair is going to be the most difficult part. You have a ton of it, and it’s still wet. Luckily, I brought the emergency hair.”
“What the fuck is emergency hair?” Keaton asks, his features more boyish now that they’re contorted into a horrified expression.
“Wigs, dumbass,” Perry says, shaking his head. “Come on, Keat, let’s have a chat while they work on the girls.”
“I’m not going,” Tinsley says, straightening her spine, her voice soft but unwavering. “Please don’t make me go.”
The three siblings seem to converse without words, each of them eyeing each other up as though they can see into the other’s head.
“She can wear my dress, not borrow one.” Tinsley’s blue eyes brighten as if she’s sold herself on the idea and now needs to convince her brothers. “Jac brought emergency hair because he thought he was getting me ready which means Ash here can pass as a blonde.”
Keaton scowls, and Perry shakes his head.
“Yes,” Tinsley says, her voice a litter firmer. “No one will notice. Ash can avoid Mother, and she’ll think I was there as long as Ash keeps her distance.”
“Nope,” Perry grunts. “Mom already texted to let us know we’re expected to make toasts at midnight. You have to be there.”
Tinsley deflates, her bottom lip poking out in a cute way. “Oh.”
“Maybe there’s a way.” Keaton edges over to her, his overprotectiveness rippling in waves as he slings a muscular arm over his sister’s dainty shoulders. “Ash could always attend the party, avoid Mother, and before the stroke of midnight, the two of you could swap the dress out just in time for the toasts.”
A hopeful smile graces Tinsley’s lips.
“That could work,” I offer, wanting to help give this poor socialite the night off since it’s clearly weighing heavily on her. “At a quarter till, I could meet you back here.”