Idiot For Hire [On Hold]

3: World's Best Boyfriend Award Does Not Go to Mitch

A/N: In celebration of my birthday (which is today woohooo) I wrote a new chapter. As a present. For myself. 

I love myself.

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Idiot for Hire 

Chapter 3

The last thing I was in the mood for was a party, but apparently, the decision wasn’t mine to make. I’d already told my boyfriend, Mitch, that I would meet him at this black-light party, and my mother wouldn’t let me back out of the commitment.

Caroline and a mutual friend of ours, Alana, were supposed to pick me up in two hours, but my stylists were nowhere to be found, and I was not going to this party if I didn’t look perfect. I kind of hoped they wouldn’t show up so I wouldn’t have to go, actually.

“I’ll do your hair,” Trish offered, plopping down on my bed with a bag of potato chips. “It won’t look good and might give your mom a heart attack, but I’ll do it.”

“No eating on my bed,” I reminded her, snatching the potato chips away. I regretted my action when I began to look at the bag wistfully, my hand hovering over the opening.

“Just have one,” she said. “It won’t kill you. Us mere mortals eat them all the time and still fit into our jeans.”

The temptation was nearly too much to resist. I did manage to pull through, though, and handed her the bag, shaking my head. “No, I can’t. I have a party to go to.”

Trish frowned with disapproval but said nothing else. If she was going to reprimand me, she didn’t get a chance to. My phone vibrated on the table next to me and distracted me. I glanced at the caller ID and answered immediately. It was Ashley, my makeup stylist. My late makeup stylist. “Where are you? I called you fifteen minutes ago!”

“I’m sorry,” Ashley gushed nervously. “There was a lot of traffic, and then my boyfriend called me, and I had to—”

“Okay, I don’t need to hear about your boyfriend and whatever else,” I interrupted. “Just get over here and see what’s taking Winona so long. There’s no way I’m letting Trish do my hair.”

Trish grinned widely at this.                                                 

“I’ll be there in five minutes, and I’ll call Winona,” Ashley said. “I promise.”

“Good.” With that, I hung up, still kind of hoping she’d be late. Normally, I would have been pissed off and probably would’ve considered firing her, though that kind of mentality was exactly what had created my assistant problem. 

The moment my mother walked into the room, Trish flew up and threw her potato chips into my closet. I glared at her, but she just mumbled something about grabbing my towels and throwing them in the wash and ran out of the room.

“Thanks, Trish,” I called out. “Thanks a lot!”

“You act like being left alone with me is such a chore,” my mother said. If I didn’t know better, I would’ve said she was actually offended. “Wait, why aren’t you getting ready yet? Where are your stylists?”

“On the way,” I said, discreetly kicking the potato chips further into my closet when her back was turned.

“Why are they not here yet? You’re meeting Mitch in less than two hours and look like you just woke up.”

“I’m still wearing the outfit you picked out for me,” I pointed out. “I literally haven’t done anything since we got home.”

She considered this before replying. “Well, I have a hair appointment in half an hour, but I don’t want to see you doing ‘literally nothing’ when I get back.”