Page 47 of Fly's Path

Because it’s a massive amount of work in a short time. “We can do this.”

Dahlia stares at the stacks and stacks of floral boxes.

“Let’s organize them and then we’ll create a pattern to copy assembly-line style.” It shouldn’t be too hard.

“Wait. Did you just say to organize things?” Piper gapes at me as she walks over.

“I think she did.” Junie winks at me, joining us.

“Whatever.” I may occasionally be just a teensy bit messy. “Roses here with the carnations next to them. Peonies at the end of that table. Baby’s breath…” I’d throw it all out, but it makes a good filler. “At the end of the table to our left, and greenery next to it. The spider mums will be the last to go in since they’re fairly complex to take apart. Does everyone know how to strip?”

“I mean, we could always ask one of those bikers over there to demonstrate.” Garnet winks as she steams a tablecloth next to Savie.

The girls laugh and blush as they peek over at the bikers who are just oh-so-casually chatting in the corner. Is Fly there? I don’t want to turn around and check. Curiosity is killing me, but the temptation to walk over and kiss him might get the better of me. “Here, I’ll demonstrate. It’s fairly easy.”

***

A few hours later, the clubhouse common room has been completely transformed, and most of us are in a massive room getting dressed. It’s kind of wild that they have a bathroom with like a half a dozen shower stalls as well as a dozen separate bathrooms connected to one large communal room with floor to ceiling mirrors and vanity setups. It’s like they throw group parties here all the time. What is a biker gang doing throwing parties all the time?

And how do we get invited?

I slip on my heels, tucking the ballet flats I wore into a bag in my purse. It was tempting to wear them instead of fancy shoes, but now I’m glad I grabbed them, especially standing next to all the other women.

Every little black dress looks the same until you put it on a model like Fiona or someone with Dahlia’s curves.

Savie is the one who has me smiling. How did she turn a crocheted dress into a work of art?

The simple black slip dress that I found at a garage sale several years ago looked fine until I stood next to all of them. I know I shouldn’t compare. But it’s just so easy to get into my head, worrying that it’s just that obvious.

Maybe it’ll help if I keep my sweater on. It is kind of chilly in here.

“If this is what it looks like for the cake tasting, I can’t wait to see the wedding.” Juniper twirls around slowly. The bouncy tulle-and-beaded dress looks retro yet modern, and just perfect on her. “How did we do it?”

No idea. Even the pool tables somehow look festive with a couple baskets full of flowers and some cute decorations around them. “It looks amazing out there.”

“How did you do that? Seriously, those look like professional arrangements.” Fiona walks out of one of the shower stalls dressed to the nines. Even her black shoes are glittering.

“It turns out that Sheridan worked at a florist shop in high school.” Dahlia steps up beside her in a black dress. Dylan suggested that we all match, and thankfully chose a color all of us had.

There weren’t many choices. It was that or the local horse farm. Flowers seemed like more fun than scooping up poop, even if it came with the ability to ride horses. “We all have unique skills. I bet if we put our brains together, we could build a bridge or build a bomb to blow one up.”

Daria’s shoulders shake as she reaches for her communication device.“The bomb part is easy.”

Don’t ask. Just assume you can learn how to build one on the internet.

But somehow I have a feeling her knowledge is slightly more extensive than that. What a wild bunch we are.

“No. How do I do this every time?” Garnet sets down her wine glass. “Does anyone have a stain pen?”

“I do.” Somewhere in this everything bag. I literally dig through the mess until I find it at the bottom. “Got it.”

“How do you find anything in that bag?” Piper slides a little wristlet over her hand.

I don’t half of the time, but just knowing everything is there gives me a small sense of security.

Winnie opens the door, resplendent in what is probably a simple silk sheath cocktail dress. It fits her like it was made for her body, which it probably was, but it also adds to the power radiating off of her. She’s the CEO most little girls want to grow up to be. The woman who has everything together and can fix any problem without breaking a sweat.

Basically, she’s the complete opposite of me. The woman I would have loved to grown up to be, but instead my life went drastically different.