Poseur #2: The Good, the Fab and the Ugly by Rachel Maude Read Free Book Online Page B

Charlotte, perched like a pedigreed cat on the sun-drenched windowsill; and, of course, plainie Janie, the only member boring enough to sit at a desk. At least Melissa had the savvy to pick the teacher’s desk, advantageously positioned at the front of the class and gleaming with a solid sense of its own importance — just as she did.
    “It is with great regret that I begin this POSEUR meeting with some upsetting news.” She sighed, resting her gavel next to her pristine white sparkle notebook. “Petra and I went to Rodeo Drive this morning, and despite a thorough and optimistic investigation, our best efforts have proved . . . futile.”
    “Oh,
quelle tragédie
!” Charlotte sighed, swooning against the windowpane. Seriously, she couldn’t care less who the culprit was. “Can we puh-
lease
change the subject?”
    “Change the
subject
?” Melissa clutched her poppy-orange Prada turban in shock. “I’m sorry, but justice has
got
to be served.”
    “But justice
has
been served,” Janie countered. At Melissa’s flashing attention, she ran a nervous finger under and around the green rubber band on her wrist. “I mean, in a way . . .”
    “We
did
get our label name out of this,” Petra leaped to her assistance.
    “Exactement,”
Charlotte sang, having smoothed the A-line skirt of her green and gold floral Blugirl dress. She returned to Melissa with her haughtiest glare. “Frankly, Melly, I find this little grudge of yours . . . how do I put this?” Her porcelain forehead scrunched in thought. “
Boring.
I mean, you might remember I was
cheated on
at that party, but have I given it a second thought? No. I moved on.”
    “That’s so inspiring,” Melissa cooed, sweetly batting her Shu Uemura curler-curled lashes. “But before we quote-unquote
move on,
” she tightened her tone, “can I ask you just
one
question? ‘ POSEUR
.
’
That’s a
French
word, right?”
    Charlotte gasped with laughter. “What are you suggesting? That it was
moi
?”
    Melissa folded her arms across her daunting cleavage, lowered her chin, and pointedly cocked an expertly tweezed eye-brow. “Well?”
    “Melissa.” As a longtime pot addict, Petra felt it was in her authority to say: “You’re being paranoid.”
    “Oh, am I?” Melissa scoffed, recollecting Petra’s behavior that morning: the startled gasp, the brutal hand-grab . . .
the compliment of that woman’s purse?
Petra was animal-rights
obsessed,
and that was a Nancy Gonzales shiny croc tote. You know:
croc
as in
croc-o-dile
? The whole thing had been without-a-doubt
weird,
she thought, savagely redirecting her eyebrow for Petra’s benefit.
    “Listen.” Janie cringingly eased her way into the building tension. “We all need to just chill. I mean, if you think about it, we all want the same thing. Melissa wants to find the vandalizer, and the rest of us want to
design
something.”
    “How is that the same thing?” Melissa snapped.
    “Remember in Town Meeting you said the contest winner should ‘step forward and claim their prize’? Well, if it was
me
who did it,” she hypothesized, studiously avoiding Melissa’s accusing crazy eye. “Not that it
was
me, but
if it was . . .
I’d be way more likely to come forward if I
knew
what the prize actually was, you know?”
    “And you’re saying the prize should be one of our designs,” Petra clarified.
    “Yeah, but something super cool,” Janie rejoined. “It’s easy to resist a prize in theory. But when it’s right there, like,
dangling
in front of your face . . .”
    “Dangly!”
Charlotte brightly chimed, clapping her well-manicured hands.
    Melissa sighed, frowned into her white glitter notebook, and made a quick note. “Janie” — she looked up at last, smiling — “I like the cut of your jiggy.”
    “Yeah, Janie,” Charlotte agreed, not without an edge of competitiveness. “What did you have in mind?”
    “Oh.” She blushed in her seat, turning her yellow Puma–clad foot toward her ankle.