“No. I have that covered. Obviously.”
So, Laney could give as good as she got. Morgun added it to her growing list of things she knew about Laney Sterling. It was just a list of random facts, not good or bad. She wasn’t intending to use it for any purpose other than the fact that knowing one’s enemy gave one power. The internet said so on one of the revenge lists.
Fuck, am I really that overly nice that I have to look up a list of vengeful things? Maybe that’s pathetic. Maybe it’s not. It’s more admirable to be the nice girl even if you do finish last.
Laney’s car was nice. Obviously. It was a sleek, expensive black sedan that three or four sessions for the right clients could probably pay for. Then again, Laney worked for an agency. Maybe it would take her a while to pay it off, just like everyone else. Morgun wasn’t sure what the position paid. The job advertisement said it was negotiable mixed with commission. That could vary widely.
Morgun slid into the passenger seat as soon as Laney unlocked the doors. She really had locked the car, even though she’d parked, illegally, right in front of the apartment building, right in direct line of sight, thirty some feet away.
Laney knew where she was going and Morgun didn’t see the point of saying anything. She was suddenly nervous but didn’t want to give herself away by asking all the questions running through her mind.
Was the wedding big or small? If they were supposed to be dating, shouldn’t they know something about each other? Laney had said that it was a more casual thing and she didn’t have to try too hard to sell it. Whatever that meant. How many people would she have to meet? Why wasn’t Laney in the wedding party if it was her own brother getting married? Did her sister-in-law hate her that much—she probably had good reason to—or did she just not feel like it and made her wishes clear? When could she go home? When was she going to get her thousand dollars? Chelsea had insisted that she ask for it as a middle finger sort of afterthought.
There were other questions too. Annoying ones. Nagging ones. What did Laney think of the photos she’d sent? Was it good enough to make it in the “big leagues”? What would those contacts think of getting contacted? They were legit. She’d checked. Those were the nagging questions. The annoying ones were the ones where Morgun wanted to ask if Laney had any tips for her or any helpful advice for landing a job and selling herself and her work. She didn’t want to want her advice, helpful or otherwise.
Laney broke the silence first. “I guess I should get your name. That’s probably helpful. I can’t just call you Unicornspooprainbowsandsprinkles498.”
“My name didn’t seem to matter much to you before.”
Laney’s lips pursed. “I know,” she said, sort of apologetically, but not really. “But I should know it now.”
“Morgun,” she said too casually. She wasn’t good at playing too cool for school.
“Okay, Morgun.” Laney took a right-hand corner too sharply. Morgun had to grab for the door handle to keep herself from sliding in the seat. She knew it was intentional. “I want to know how you know me. You said you knew who I was.”
Morgun was right. Laney didn’t recognize her from that interview two years ago when they both sat in the same waiting room. Morgun had gone first. Maybe if she hadn’t, she would have gotten the job instead. She’d speculated about it a million times. What she could have said or done differently. They’d said they liked her portfolio, but she wasn’t experienced enough. What they really meant was that they didn’t like her. That’s the part she hadn’t exactly explained to Chelsea that night when they were sitting side by side at the desk, staring at Laney’s profile.
It was too hurtful to contemplate all the ways you could be not good enough, let alone try to explain it to someone else.
“Who wouldn’t know you? You’re kind of a high-profile photographer. I’m also a photographer. That’s how I knew who you were. I recognized your photo. That’s all.”
“Is that why you messaged me? With the intent of blackmailing me or tricking me into giving you contacts or using me to set up a meeting for you with my employer?”
“No.” Morgun somehow managed to say it with a straight face. “You were the one that started in with the arrangement and exchange of services and money, if I remember correctly. I messaged you because I know you’re beautiful and attractive and I thought we’d have some common interests, given that we both work in the same field.”
“Ha, beautiful,” Laney mimicked like it was the worst kind of insult. She turned to Morgun, but Morgun refused to look at her, even though she felt Laney’s eyes burning straight through the side of her face. “You think I’m beautiful?”
“I’m sure anyone else would agree. Outwardly, it’s obvious. Inner beauty? I think that’s lacking. Obviously.”
It was then that Morgun realized that some people liked being perceived as hard or bitchy or uncaring. Or that they just didn’t give a shit what people thought. She wasn’t sure which Laney was, or maybe, surprisingly, she had a good sense of humor, because she just nodded, took another turn too sharply, and gave a confident response.
“Obviously.”
Chapter 8
Laney
Laney took back everything she’d thought about Morgun being that sweet, pretty, blonde, girl next door type. She was a little spitfire beneath her charming exterior. Witty, intelligent, knew how to use sarcasm. Probably had a wicked sense of humor. She also had a killer body that wasn’t apparent from when they went for coffee or in those selfies, and her hair and makeup made her look nothing short of a celebrity. She was going to draw a lot of attention at the wedding.
Laney realized how annoying that would be, but it wasn’t like she had much of a choice. She didn’t think that Morgun would wear a dress that shamelessly outlined everything like she was naked, clothed in a gossamer sheet. Even though the dress was totally opaque, it outlined everything. She wasn’t sure who wore something better suited to the beach to a wedding, but she wasn’t about to say anything. That would be pointing out that she’d noticed.
She also wasn’t sold on Morgun’s explanation of why she’d messaged her, but she let it slide. Whatever the reason, it didn’t matter.
Laney pulled into the parking lot of the massive arts building. It was a gallery
with three stories, complete with tinted glass, wood and metal accents, and towering sculptures of just about every medium on the lush lawn.
“This is where they’re getting married?” Morgun exclaimed in disbelief.