The Wrong Idea by Annika Martin

Author:Annika Martin [Martin, Annika]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Cinnamon Crane Press

Ten

“Ex-sheep farmer,” I clarified.

“I’m Macy Gigi,” the woman said, holding out a hand thre in the lounge-like bathroom. “But you can call me Macy.”

“The Giraffes,” I said, taking her hand. It made sense. They were so leggy, what with those shoes and outfits.

“Yup,” Macy said.

“Cool,” I said, sort of stupidly.

She introduced me to Angel Gigi, who had brown eyes and lots of tattoos and wore a red chiffon party dress that looked very 1950s; her long hair was dyed a light caramel, and she had a tiara. Jenny Gigi had a golden suntan and white-blonde hair. She looked like a stripper.

Macy came right up to me. “We have a lot of names because that’s what we like. We switch out names as often as we switch out hair colors.”

I nodded and smiled as we shook hands. It didn’t strike me as the most efficient naming system ever, but who was I to judge?

“Nice tattoo,” Jenny said from behind me.

“Let’s see.” Macy patted the counter. “Come on, I just want to see,” she added when I hesitated.

These Gigis were so…outlandish. And they wore outrageously high-heeled platform shoes. I put up my foot and let them check out my gang tattoo. Showing it off made me feel incredibly proud. The tattoo told the world that if anybody messed with me, they messed with the God Pack.

“Odin does some nice work,” Macy said. “So you all have four lightning bolts now?”

“Yeah. I got the whole thing, and they all got an extra bolt.” I tried to act like it was no big, and not an entire afternoon of me saying eep and acting like a baby.

“Sweet. But the shoes are a little sad,” Angel said. “Your boys pick those out for you?”

“We picked them out together.”

“Yeah, right. Means your guys picked ’em out. Guys have shit taste in shoes.” Macy fixed me with a gaze; her silver eyeliner and silver fake lashes made her brown eyes appear strangely deep and dark. “You get tired of taking orders from little boys…” She whipped a card out of her pocket and held it toward me with elegant fingers. The card was smaller and thicker than a normal business card, with rounded corners. “We know you drive, Isis. And we hear you’ve got nerve. And we’re down a member due to some grievous disrespect on the part of our last member. You don’t seem the disrespecting type.” She smiled. “You get tired of those dudes, you call us.”

“I won’t get tired of those dudes,” I said coolly. “Ever. We’re together.”

Macy smiled. “Gotcha.” She pushed the card closer to me. “Still, no reason you can’t make new friends, right?”

It was weird. As soon as she said it, I realized something I was deeply missing: female companionship, aka girlfriends! I’d spent my life surrounded by sisters. I missed it. And these girls knew my guys, knew what they were into.

I took the card. There was a little line image of a giraffe on one side, and a phone number on the other.

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