Finding It by Leah Marie Brown Read Free Book Online

don’t do kisses.”
    I laugh. “How about hugs?”
    Poppy grimaces. “Only on terribly special occasions.”
    I laugh again and am about to pull perfectly pressed Poppy into a sisterly squeeze when I remember my interlude romantique with Luc. I hunch my shoulders and exhale slowly. I’m like a slow leaking balloon.
    “What?” Poppy asks. “Oh, yes, the shag fest.”
    “The shag fest,” I repeat, crinkling my nose. “What should I do?”
    “Don’t ask me.” Poppy holds up her hands. “I will not be responsible for the French dis-Connection. It’s your decision.”
    Poppy is totally cool, but I wish Fanny were here. Fanny would know exactly what to do. Fanny always knows what to do. My goal-setting, type A, itinerary-drafting best friend would organize another story and have me on a plane headed for Paris before sunset.
    “Let me just check something.” I pull out my iPhone.
    I open Safari and type Ryanair into the search bar. Maybe all of the flights to Paris are already booked, which would mean I am stuck in London until morning—and if I am stuck in London until morning, why shouldn’t I go to Poppy’s party?
    “If you are checking on a flight to Paris, don’t bother.”
    I look up from the glowing screen. “Why not?”
    “I’ll have my assistant book you a seat on a British Airways flight out of Heathrow.” She whips out her smartphone and taps the screen. “How about the six fifty flight? You will arrive in time for breakfast.”
    “Oh, thank you, but I can’t ask you to do that.”
    “Too late.” She slips her phone back into her purse. “It’s done.”
    Either Michel slipped a few mushrooms into my spotted dick or I’m already suffering pangs of guilt, because my stomach aches.
    “I’ll still have three days and two nights with Luc,” I say, trying to rationalize my selfish decision. “Besides, we would have been asleep for most of the night anyway.”
    I mentally calculate the profit versus the loss and decide it’s worth the risk. Luc might be a tiny bit irritated, but Big Boss Lady will probably give me a raise.
    “Okay, I’d love to be your plus one, Poppy.”
    “Splendid,” Poppy says, standing. “Now, we really should do something about your hair.”

Chapter 5
    Hips Don’t Lie
     
    Text from Camilla Grant:
    It’s your mum. I finally joined the Facebook. I was going to like the donut shop’s page, but I hit enter too soon and typed Happy Ho instead of the Happy Hole Donut Shop. Can you believe there are 173 Happy Hos on the Facebook? I am thinking of friend requesting one and inviting her to church.
     
    Text to Louanne Collins-London:
    Fab news! I’ve been invited to the Brava party celebrating the first season of their new show. Bishop Raine, Wynona Pathlow on guest list. Would you like me to write a piece about it?
     
    Text from Louanne Collins-London:
    Sure.
     
    I am not sure which text fills me with more dread: my mother’s expressed desire to send a friend request to some random perky prostitute or Louanne Collins-London’s tepid one word response to my exciting Brava party invite.
    Sure.
    Maybe I am reading more into it, but Louanne’s text was distant and dispassionate.
    Would you like a cup of Earl Grey?
    Sure.
    Wanna listen to Josh Groban’s new album?
    Sure.
    How could an editor of a hip and happening magazine be so blasé over a splashy, celeb-filled party piece?
    “Because you totally blew the Prince Harry story and now she’s blasé about you,” whispers my inner Regina George.
    Yes, I have an inner Regina George. The manipulative, deceitful, belittling queen bee in the movie Mean Girls talks smack, giving my self-esteem Ray Rice beat downs. Don’t judge. I’ll bet you have an inner Regina George, who makes you feel like crap because of your thighs/boyfriend/job/laugh. We all do. Some are just better at silencing their Reginas before she inflicts real damage. My Regina is telling me I am going to lose my job.
    Fishing in my pocket, I pull out