18. I Need A Drink (On The Double)

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⌞M I N D E L Y N⌝
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⌞♥⌝   "Yoh. God take the wheel..." Shirley whispered with my sundress snaked around her neck. Her hands clasped together like she was about to pray for a miracle.

Her statement was directed more to herself than me as we sat cross-legged on the couch, staring at the open suitcase of shoes between us. I had just finished explaining how I ended up in South Africa and landed a one-night stand-ish with Chester. The more details I gave, the more I realized how crazy everything sounded, and my cheeks burned red from embarrassment.

"Seriously, this bet sounds messier than my niece's diaper -- and trust me that's a lot of shit." It was as though someone had knocked the air out of her when she finally sighed, and our eyes met. "So, here's the first question: This green-haired Blake guy has not shown up since his weird departure last night, correct?"

"Yeah..." I nodded with a heavy heart.

"Any texts? Instagram DMs?"

I bit my bottom lip and shook my head. "No. He hasn't been online since around I left for my date."

Her eyes narrowed with a fold of her arms as she hummed, "Interesting... Does he know anyone around here?"

"No." No one came to mind. Unless it was someone that he didn't want me to know, such a thought scared me to death because there was only one other time that happened, and what perspired after that almost destroyed our relationship and took his life.

"Sorry, let me rephrase myself." She cleared her throat and articulated, "Are any of you acquainted with a tall, loud black guy with a massive and detailed dragon tattoo on his arm? How about a twiggy East Asian fella who, despite his build, looks like he could be part of a Yakuza with all the piercings and tats going on?"

An icy chill ran down my spine. The descriptions struck a chord of familiarity that I desperately wanted to dismiss.

It couldn't be them. Not here, not in South Africa.

Those two belonged to my past in another continent. The meager thought of them being in the same city, let alone the same place, was unfathomable. I clung to the hope that it was a bizarre coincidence, a very unlikely one at that.

Flummoxed, I blinked. "What?"

The screen played a video that showed Blake in a pair of jeans, runners, and a black t-shirt, running over to a dark and chunky Land Rover.

The tall, loud black guy with the intricate dragon tattoo I remembered designing for him as my final project for a random illustration class was unmistakable — Ray Dalton, my manipulative ex-crush. And the East Asian with the piercings and tats? That was Kenji Lambard, his shadiest of friends and Michigan's top drug dealer. My mind raced, struggling to comprehend how Blake, my best friend who had orchestrated this whole crazy blind date, could plan to invite and hang out with the very men I had run away from.

It was as if Shirly had heard my trust crack as she whispered, "You good there, girlie? You look like you've seen my Gogo Lindo, which would shut down this place because she's supposed to be chilling with dirt."

Though fixed on her screen, I found enough attention to blurt out, "What? Why would she hang out with dirt?"

"She's, um, dead."

Watching my closest friend envelope the two laughing men in a hug, a part of my soul died as I lied, "Whatever, I'm fine."

Lies. I was the furthest thing from it.

"Okay," Shirley stared at me, clearly looking for something. "So, you don't know them?"

As Ken ruffled Blake's hair and Ray patted his back, my heart sank, and I griped, "No, I don't know any of them."

Ray's laughter startled me before his smile paralyzed me. Those thick lips of the smooth talker who always managed to twist everything to his advantage made me want to run and hide. But deep down, there was a bit of me who would make a U-turn if he swayed me enough. I hated how I still felt enticed by it. Loving him was suffocating.

So broken. Like damaged goods beyond repair, Ray shattered me in ways inexplicable to science.

The haunting thought pounded on my skull as I wiped a stray tear with a burning fist and resumed watching the boys exchange laughs.

My eyes shot to fucken Kenji Lambard. Having dodged serious jail time thanks to his parent's influence and, unfortunately, some help from my father's political network, my rage towards him was as fierce as the sun and, with what he had pulled Blake and me through a few years back, it was a miracle I hadn't murdered him yet.

Just the mere thought of them in the same country exacerbated my anxiety. However, seeing them together in real life unlocked a new level of fear, resentment, and hopelessness in me that only my father was able to achieve until then.

So, Blake, why? How could you?

These questions raged through my crumbling headspace while I fought back tears. He knew every detail of the torment I endured from those people. Yet, from the mitten of the USA to the tip of Africa, you went behind my back and ...

You brought them back into my life.

A mix of betrayal and confusion washed over me, the hurt weighing heavily on my chest. This trip was to start anew and break off from the chains of my past. Not only had my sanctuary been invaded by the very people and the past I had tried to leave behind, but the one I cherished most was the one who made this nightmare into a reality.

Shirley's tender voice snapped me back to reality. "Are you sure?" she asked, her tone laced with concern. "Because Mr. Greenhead looked pretty stoked when these two other men picked him up yesterday."

With my heart in my mouth, a part of me wanted to look away, but my fuming brain forced my eyes to remain on the screen. Ray's bad-boy smirk and Kenji's casual stance darkened my soul as the trio jumped back into the car and drove off into the night.

Duplicity cut deep as my stomach churned. I couldn't comprehend how Blake could be so cruel, so thoughtless. However, based on his interactions with Monique, classmates, and family, I realized just how much of a fool I had been. It wasn't that I failed to grasp his actions; I didn't want to.

My hands trembled as I returned the device to the young, pretty woman across me, the burden of the revelation pressing down on me. I got up, still in nothing but a towel, and stared down at my cold bare toes. I wriggled them, wondering if I ran away this time how far could I get before my demons caught up with me and ripped me apart.

A short jingle echoed through the room, and a second later, Shirley was on her feet, glaring at her phone. I wouldn't have paid attention to it if my keen eyes hadn't caught her body trembling ever so slightly. Her fierce and fiery image still held its firewall up, but her angry eyes twinkled with a glaze of uncertainty and discomfort.

Witnessing her in this state was far more terrifying than her infamous break-in, as it was so out of character. So, with a cock of the brow, I questioned, "Uh, what is it now?"

"You hugged Johan Pretorius?!" she exclaimed. You would think she had just witnessed a miracle, and I was carrying the next Jesus with how wide her eyes were while stammering, "J-just how are you still breathing?"

"With my lungs, Lady Einstein," I deadpanned with a sharp eye-roll. Were hugs illegal in this part of the world? The fuss was a bit much.

"No! No. Listen to me, Mindy. You don't know them at all. Yet somehow, you hugged Hands-to-yourself-or-perish Han – in public and lived to tell the tale." She flung her arms in the air and started clapping her hands enthusiastically, "Aye! That's some crazy stuff, and that's big coming from someone like me who has watched a real-life exorcism."

"C-come again?" I asked, too shocked to breathe.

"Mindy, focus on the important things, please! Did you feel anything when you embraced him? I've never seen him smile like that before..."

It was like I tasted a rotten lemon with how aggressively my brows furrowed. "Shirley, just how long have you been spying on me?"

Being under constant surveillance troubled me more than anything. What my parents put younger me through with that crap was more than enough, and I sure didn't need it during my vacation in another country more than a thousand miles from my paranoid relatives.

"Spying?" She cackled. "There's no need for that. It's my family's hotel, remember? My eyes and ears were everywhere the moment you stepped in here," she clarified while using her hands as binoculars. "From history enthusiasts, A-list celebrities, and entitled trust fund babies to mafia leaders, high-status conglomerates, and political spearheads who wield the power to choose who lives and dies without consequence, I need to know who comes here and — especially — why. So answer the question: why and how did you hug a man who finds the warmth of his mother and older sisters repulsive?"

"Um, he asked for one," I answered, still processing the new information about Johan's nuclear family and their bittersweet relationship. It reminded me of myself, but despite the familiarity, something about it made it all the more unsettling.

"Eish! Next time, refuse because this trip of yours is starting to look dangerous now..." she advised before murmuring to herself. "Seriously, that's so unlike him. What's he thinking? I need to pass this on to Simon..."

'Who is Simon?' was my next question. I also meant to tell her that I was also seeing Johan tomorrow. However, the concern in her eyes blared too loud for me to ignore. So, I decided to hide that bit for now.

Furthermore, I had a hunch that informing her in such a condition would have resulted in her pushing me to cancel our safari — which I couldn't do then. I was in too deep and didn't need my history being brought to the surface again; I barely made it out alive when it resurfaced last time.

And I liked free things. Kill me.

If I were to get out of this in one piece and keep my monsters in my closest dormant, I would have to tackle the bull by the horns -- which was a game I had to play along with to ensure my safety. Despite their shortcomings, my parents deserved praise for at least teaching me this skill so damn earlier in life.

"Hey, Shirley." I approached her before gently holding her shivering hands adorned with jewelry and cooing, "Calm down. What's wrong?"

A furious red radiated across her cheeks when we touched. She snatched her hands back so fast we stared at one another, both too stunned to speak. Rubbing her neck, she apologized for what had transpired, then briefly broke eye contact with me, saying, "Be careful around Johan, Mindelyn. My words probably don't mean much, but he's a rather dangerous kind of African."

Johan had been nothing less of a gentleman when I entered this country. A spic and span character, with not a single crease. His kindness was so perfect. However, even at the lunch meeting, I could tell there was a calculation in his moves, like someone too scared to affect his image, a trait too similar to all the pivotal men in my life. However, there was also something I couldn't discern quite yet.

However, to confirm that hypothesis and dissect whatever caused the weird feeling I got from him I needed to gather more data. So, with a tilt of my head, I asked, "How so?"

"That man is a spitting image of his father in quality looks, endless determination, and politically-influenced finesse. However, when you mix in his mother's innate allure and manipulative ways, the boy is the mastermind of damage control, covering up so much of him and his family's shenanigans." She let out another sigh while rubbing her temples. "I know Chester is no saint either, but I've known these men for so long, and Han... He's the only one who taught me a pretty face can never be trusted, especially one that hisses so beautifully."

Pain. It was a deafening moment when the young woman with enough energy to power a city disappeared and was dead in the eyes and looked deeply hurt. She was a woman who had seen too much too young. You didn't need to ask her when it was written all over her body language.

How she saw Mr. Pretorious was scarily similar to how I perceived the two men who took off with my best friend. I was at a loss for words as I whispered, "Shirley..."

"No, seriously, Mindy. I can tell you are a decent person so my advice for future dates if you live long enough, would be to dig into your lover's past, present, and potential future before it buries you alive. Because in this place, as a young non-white woman, apartheid's ways still reign loud and proud among the elite in this country."

The infrequent pauses as she spoke, the lip-biting, and other nervous tics gave off the impression she seemed to be looking for something to say. However, I'd later learn that was wrong because the very least she was trying to do was warn me by addressing her words very carefully.

"Chester's different in that regard at least." She laughed, getting up and stretching herself. "So, congrats on your match made in Hell."

"Uh, thanks. I guess." Her compliments were so backhanded but non-malicious that my emotions were also baffled.

"Anyway, are you sure Chester did not do any other weird stuff that brought you discomfort? I don't mind reconstructing his face for you, blink four times."

"Actually, he's more respectful in bed than most men that I've come across." I smiled at first before gulping down my pride as I realized how weird that sounded out loud. Not only had I just confessed I've been around pound town, but that I was a red-flag wormhole.

She put her hands on her hips. "I suppose there's a reason Chester is popular among the ladies... but seriously, if he does anything remember to blink four times, and I'll beat the kinky brute where it hurts the most and hang his unconsciousness ass on the —"

"Woah! No! There's no need to do that," I cut her off, softening her scowl and stopping her way down the path to premeditated murder.

Arms crossed, the chairwoman of chatterboxes mumbled something about how that better be the case or she'd mess up Chester's jaw again, tickling a smile out of me. With how she berated and discussed the two men, it was obvious who she was closer to.

I grabbed a nearby TV remote and tapped her shoulder with it, ribbing, "Don't worry. I'm sure you'll find an excuse to annihilate him soon enough."

Shirley was a unique soul. Everything about her was spontaneous and bright like a theater kid. If humans had elemental symbols, without a doubt, I'd just found myself a blazing firecracker with the energy of a thousand men and the fierceness of the God of War.

Although the corners of my lips curled up from my slight amusement of the whole situation, some boundaries needed to be set. So I shook my head and brought back a question from the grave of our conversation: "Shirley, I know we've been talking for a bit now, but what are you doing in my room? Like really?"

"To visit you. I thought I made that clear earlier," said Shirley, walking over to the curtains and parting them to allow the fiery orange rays of the dying sun in. "Everyone's business is my business the moment you step here. Privacy isn't a luxury here, just exclusiveness."

I pointed out my open luggage and deadpanned, "Do the people you visit normally chill in suitcases?"

"Sometimes."

I gulped. "Sometimes?!"

"Ja. Did you forget this is South Africa, girlie? Five stars or no star, murder, and death don't discriminate," she laughed, pulling out an ironing board from the cupboard and slapping my dress on it like a pizza on a pizza board. "That's why when you decided to stay in for a good half of the day, I needed to ensure there was still some life occupying this space or if I had another batch of NDAs to dispatch and a secret police report to file."

My mouth hung before I pulled it shut and mumbled, "Why does this sound like I've been shoved into a crazy Wattpad novel?"

"Girlie, I thought the same when I started helping my grandmother's business. The hotel industry is another universe, I tell you." She shook her head as the iron blew another puff of steam.

"Yeah, but you don't see me snooping through people's shit."

"Did you die? No. A bit of harmless snooping never hurt anyone," Shirley replied nonchalantly as if it were the most natural thing in the world. "So, using my privilege, I figured I'd pop in and see whose legs Chester's been spreading. Gotta make sure he's not hanging out with any weirdos or up to no good, you know?"

My jaw dropped again. "So, you just... let yourself in?"

"Pretty much," Shirley said with a shrug. "But, don't worry, I didn't see anything too embarrassing. Well maybe -- "

"Please tell me it wasn't my collection of edible nipple clips!" I screeched, almost dropping my towel as I jolted up.

You know those moments when your mouth moves before your brain gives it a heads up, and then you regret your neurotic existence even more? This instant was exactly that.

"Um, no... " She chuckled while ironing out my clothing. "... but that explains why those smelled so minty. Go girl, you bring the kitchen into the bedroom."

The temperature of my face could compete with the fires of Hell as I turned my head away. "Shirley, please spare me the ridicule and shut up, and just tell me what you saw?"

That made her laugh harder before announcing, "Oh, the pair of pajama boxers with that pretty cute member from that Korean pop boy band that has been on the rage these days. Fine choice, by the way," with an approving wink.

"O-oh, God, next question please!" I begged.

"Sure. Were they limited edition?" she teased with a wiggly brow.

"Hey! Change the topic."

"Got it! Did you make those candy clips?" she chuckled with another eyebrow dance.

"Yeah..." I nodded, shocked at how she managed to loop us back to my odd hobby and fearing where these questions led.

"If I ordered, could you sprinkle some extra zest in there?"

"Zest? Like citrus flavors?" I asked.

"No, I'm talking about good stuff. You know dagga."

"Sorry, but you lost me. What is that? Is it some exotic spice?"

"Now that you say it like that, weed can technically be considered a condiment. I like you. You're smart." She winked with a smile that dilly-dallied the border between innocence and insanity.

Shirley Dlamini had this aura that lured you into whatever crazy she had going on and welcomed the broadcasting of everyone's intrusive thoughts. I fell victim to it when I frowned and genuinely asked, "Were you dropped as a child? Or have you always been like this?"

"Probably dropped. My mother had buttered pool noodles for hands, so that wouldn't surprise me," she quipped while walking over to the dresser beside me to lay down the iron. "Love her to death though."

God and I thought no one could beat Layla's unfiltered faucet-for-a-mouth.

I laughed despite the absurdity of the situation. However, when a passing breeze from the vent reminded me that I was still in my birthday suit, I needed the nut to leave. So, I latched onto her with my dress in hand and said, "Alright, Shirley. You've had your fun. Get out."

As I was dragging her to the door, she wriggled and yelped, "Wait! I have a request as your guest!"

I stopped but didn't dare let my grip on her falter as I asked, "From weird to criminal activity, rate the absurdity of your request?"

"Rating: Innocent. Activity: A fun and delightful Girl's Night in Jozi," she stated with a playful twinkle in her eye, before elaborating, "I was thinking you might want to join me for a movie or something. I just got home, but honestly, I'd rather hang with you than chill in my boyfriend's office alone. He's got a big work dinner tonight, and I didn't feel like butt-kissing snobby aristocrats on my first day back."

That was the biggest surprise in that whole conversation. "You, Miss Hotel-Room-Invader, have a boyfriend?"

"Mhm, and he is my favorite person." She cackled, blushing at the idea of him. "You'll meet him soon enough. Oh, and when you do, I must warn you that he is a little bit on the serious side, but I promise you he has a gentle spot."

From her softened glow and how affectionately she spoke of this mystery man, it was clear that she deeply cared for this person with her whole heart.

"Wait! I've got an idea. Let's go eat somewhere and then meet up with him there!"

My soul almost left my body. "No — are you crazy?"

"I'd say I'm somewhere on the spectrum," quipped the idiot with a wink. I gave her a menacing look that screamed unimpressed. That made her come to her senses and defeatedly say, "Fine! Fine. You can have me all to yourself tonight. We can grab some smoky ribs from a braai, so stop begging me."

"Who told you that? Your friends in the wall?" I scoffed before snorting, "That's a hard pass from me."

Based on the interaction I had learned about Miss Eccentric, she was the kind to drag you to blindfolded dinners. I was not in the mood to guess what was on my plate or the death of my bowels because of it.

So, I shook my head, let her go, and sat back on my bed with a forced smile and a passive-aggressive, "Get back to me on Sunday. Your visitation pass has expired, and my social battery is low. So, get out."

"Aw, come on, girlie. Don't be like that! I come in peace and with a free unlimited food offering that is only valid for this evening." She said with a pout, lifting my green dress to see if it had any creases. "I checked all your fridges, so I know you are going to starve to death if I leave."

"The more you talk, the more curious I am of chocolates in the afterlife."

"Ey, wena, Minnie. The African in me will be cursed by my ancestors if you starve under my watch, so what do you want?"

"I want you to – Wait?" I stiffened. "What did you call me?"

"Minnie. Like that cute Disney mouse plushie, Mr. You-know-who bought for you!" The cheekiness in Shirley's eyes didn't waver as she teased a bunch of nonsense. Well, I thought it was so until she added, "Oh, my apologies, I forgot you haven't left your room today. Loverboy dropped off something at reception on my way here. So, I took the time out of my schedule and brought it over as a special delivery," and pointed to the bedside table.

"Special? Delivery? For me?" I glanced over and saw nothing.

As I returned to glare at her, she waved me off and hinted, "In the giant drawer. You're welcome."

I crawled over my bed and flung the drawer open. When I saw it, my hands covered my mouth, and my heart almost exploded.

Amidst the lovely bouquet of fresh large red roses on top of an exquisite box of gourmet confectioneries stood a miniature Minnie Mouse made of white crystals by a towering pale pink envelope. Two boxes of painkillers guarded the figurine.

Curiosity piqued and flustered by everything before me, I opened the envelope and found a card and a handwritten letter. Chester's business card had his contact number circled in bright red ink, while the lengthy letter carried the subtle scent of vanilla and a very Chester-like message that read:

"Good (probably) afternoon, Minnie.

I want to take this moment to call you out and say that you sleep pretty soundly for someone who doesn't like an extra human in her bed. Regardless, I do hope you woke up in good health. Since I got a little carried away last night, I popped some paracetamol and ibuprofen.

About the morning, I didn't want to disturb you with how tired you looked, so I left without saying anything. If it really bothered you, you are granted a one-hour ticket to punish me however you feel fit when we see each other again, with no consequences.

Anyway, it's been a while since I've had that much fun. I figured you enjoyed yourself as well and thought you might die of boredom until our meet-up this Saturday afternoon. So, I got some things for you and your means.

On my business card, you'll find my private number and, on its backside, a new SIM card. Oh, and please don't stress about it, it's already activated and charged so you can reach me whenever. However, I want a mandatory call every night to ensure you're safe. Remember this is South Africa, and a lot can happen to a beautiful foreign woman in these streets — so call me, please!

Lastly, here are some salted caramel fudge and chocolate-coated cherries to satisfy your sweet tooth! This is better suited for your palate than that cheap cake you got. So eat up, because you'll need all the energy you can get for this weekend.

Yeah, I know, your trusted guide is also quite efficient outside the bedroom. Why aren't you blessed? Treat me by stopping by my office now and then during your stay. Whenever is fine, I can accommodate you in my entertainment room. I don't like company, but with an ass as fine as yours, I'll make an exception. So, don't be a stranger, come over.

You have opened a platinum account on this trip, so enjoy your stay with luxury and other spicy benefits. So, don't forget to call me tonight or else. You've been warned...

"... From your favorite -- bedwarmer? Oh, Lord. I fucked a fool."

A blush crept up my cheeks as I read the last bit of the letter aloud. I could hear his infuriating, know-it-all tone through the delicate page, but, oddly enough, it warmed my heart.

With Blake going MIA with the two who we shall not name, it was nice to have someone to rely on if things went sour in a foreign place. However, at that time, there was soon to be more than one...

"So?" Shirley smirked. "You heard the man! We got to fatten you up before the feast."

I frowned. "Shirley for the sake of your lifespan, you better not have read my letter, too?"

"Well, yes and no. I just read it over your shoulders as you giggled like a teen girl texting her crush. You seriously need to work on your alertness... Chester is as quiet as a mouse when he needs to be, and you need to see him coming."

I narrowed my eyes at Shirley. "How do I know you're not just some crazy paparazzi who broke into my room and is too nosy for their own good? Sure, you know a lot about the future faces of Serenity Corp., but how do I know you're a genuine friend of Chester's?"

"I guess that's a fair assumption." Rubbing her chin, Shirley put her thinking cap on and went quiet for a bit. However, she soon snapped her fingers and cried, "Alright, I got it! Let's clear this up!"

"So, first up is a picture of me and the party animal at his birthday last year in the Maldives," she said, pulling out her phone and showing me a super close-up photo of just her and Chester.

On a yacht somewhere in the Indian Ocean, both of them were super red in the face, grinning like idiots. Though Chess had a beard made of vanilla sponge and icing from some cake fight, he was having a great time, and it thawed me a little. Even with all that gunk on him, he was still so unfairly beautiful that it physically hurt looking away. The more I looked at him, the more surreal it felt knowing that I tasted such a man and would be getting more in less than 72 hours.

Pulling back her phone, she continued, "Secondly, if I were some journalist or murderer, do you think I'd be suggesting we go out for food rather than, I don't know, something more sinister or newsworthy? And lastly, do you honestly think someone with this much style," she gestured to her outfit and strutted her stuff in a melodramatic twirl, "would have any ill intentions?"

I bit my lip from laughing. However, even that couldn't hide the uncertainty in my eyes.

Shirley noticed as well and buffered her tone. "Look, Mindelyn. I get it. This is weird, and if I were in your shoes, I'd be suspicious too. But I promise, I'm just here to make sure you're having a good time and maybe to get to know the woman who caught Chester's eye. Plus, if you come with me, you'll get to taste some of the best food in South Africa. What do you say?"

I hesitated a moment longer but realized I needed a break. "Alright, but if you try anything funny, I will fight back."

Shirley laughed, a genuine, hearty laugh. "Deal. Now hurry and get dressed. We have a date with Mbongeni Market for some lekker street food!"

Street Food? The last time I had a hot dog from a street vendor, my butt sang to the toilet all damn night. Apparently, my expression sold me out because Shirley's comment came in full force as she said. "What's with that face? You look like a Pitbull suffering indigestion with your round face scrunched up like that."

I gave her a good erected middle finger and a snarky but playful, "Bitch."

"Ah, don't be like that. Sound like you mean it!" she demanded with a playful fist.

She's right. I need a real break from everything for a bit... 

So, I smiled and gave in. "Alright, you nut. I'll go with you. I need a drink anyway after all this shit."

A victorious grin sprouted on her face as she rubbed her hands. "Trust me, this is going to be the best decision you've made all day. So, let's get down to business, shall we?"

"Huh? What busi—Ah!"

With zero warnings, she tossed the sundress at me, cutting me off, and I caught it with my face. By the time I yanked it off and was ready to beat someone, she was already by the door with the biggest playful smirk, yelling, "As you get ready, I'll be busy annoying Thabang. It's been a bit since I've been back in Johannesburg —" she spun on her black stilettos and took off into the hall singing, "Tha-bong! Thabang! It's time for you and me!"

Suppressing a chuckle was near impossible as I heard the senior butler mockingly groan his greeting to Shirley and ask her how on earth, she still had the energy of a five-year-old after such a long flight. It was equally amusing when I was applying my makeup with my background noise consisting of cheery sunbirds and Shirley getting emotional about how much he had aged and how he was not allowed to die until she was married. I cried so hard from laughing that I had to reapply my mascara when he snorted, he's not immortal, and how her visits would only expedite his 'last day on the earth' package.

Like me, the young lady had the staff laughing away with her presence. She was a whirlwind of energy and mischief. She was both the life of the party and the reason it got shut down — or, as Layla put it: "She's a real two-in-one kind of quack. So we better keep the receipt — in case we need to send her back."

With a sigh and a smile, I slipped into the body-tight fit, changed my SIM card, and was ready for whatever adventure lay ahead.

And if this adventure ends in disaster, I thought to myself, flicking off the lights and strutting down the hall that was walked by dignitaries before me, at least I'll have a cute outfit for the obituary photo.