“Well?”
“Urgh! In your next life, you should be a detective,” Cleo muttered. “Honestly, it really isn’t that big a deal. There’s a party in the Hills tonight where people just meet up.”
“And when you say people?” I thought for second, and then it hit me. “Guys, I’m not going to one of your sugar daddy parties.”
“There are some fine mommies there too. Don’t discriminate. God knows I don’t. ” Mark said with a wink. His motto was if he or she made him feel good, he was all in.
“No. And double hell no.” I trotted back up the stairs toward my room.
Cleo and Mark were what could only be described as sugar babies, which meant, according to Mark, a relationship where the younger party was financially cared for in return for “companionship,” aka sex. And it was the type of sex you couldn’t confess to in church.
“Felicity.” Cleo walked in after me. I jumped onto my bed and picked up my book. “Come on, live a little. You have no idea—”
“No sharing.”
Mark fell onto the bed next to me and propped himself up on one arm. “As your friends, it’s our duty to tell you that you can’t live like this anymore. It hurts us.”
“What?” I tried not to laugh at the pout on his face.
Cleo lay down on
the other side of me, sandwiching me in between them. “What he means is that you are smart, funny, beautiful….”
“Not just any type of beautiful, but sugar baby beautiful,” Mark added, and she nodded in agreement.
I looked at them both. “Okay, I’m going to need a definition of that.”
Cleo spoke first. “Naturally stunning without even trying.”
“Absolutely radiant when you do try,” Mark continued. “Good boobs.”
“Flawless, sun-kissed skin.”
“Sweet, heart-shaped face.”
“Long, soft, honey-brown hair.”
“Not to mention your pretty hazel eyes.”
Cleo went on. “And we even haven’t even gotten to your body yet. You can eat whatever the hell you want and still have a tight ass and flat stomach.”
“She’s probably the only woman over twenty in L.A. with her real nose,” Mark replied.
Cleo grabbed her nose. “You can’t tell, right?”
“No, babe, he did you good,” Mark answered, and they reached over me, high-fiving each other before looking at the ceiling. Once again I found myself wondering how the hell I was friends with these people.
Trying to ignore them, I lifted my book and started to read in the hopes they would get the message, but they kept talking as if I wasn’t even there.
“You are sugar baby beautiful, Felicity. Any guy would walk through fire for the chance to be with you.” Cleo sighed.
“Plus, even though you can’t cook, you’re great at—”
“What’s the point of being a sugar baby if you have to cook and clean?” she questioned.
“Good point.” He chuckled and took the book from my hands.
“Hey!” I tried to reach for it.