Guilty Pleasure
It was Brittany's secret vice. She'd started it when Rachel was pregnant with the twins, but it stuck. And now that they had a moody 17 year old, a hyperactive 10 year old, and two 9 year olds that like to make stuff explode? Well, she wasn't about to kick the habit any time soon.
"Your London Fog, Mrs. Lopez."
"Thank you," Brittany said, relaxing in the massage chair. She loved the salon. Mani/pedi/hair cut—that was her routine once a month. She sipped her tea and glanced out the window. She sighed. The paparazzi were still out there. She could see them, but they couldn't see her. This was her regular hide out, and the staff was amazing. They always gave her the corner chair, so she was in a blind spot and no one could see her.
Her phone buzzed three times, and she smiled. It was noon.
Love you, Ducky! –Q
Can't wait to see you later, sexy mama. –S
Hi Britt! I hope your time at the spa is satisfactory and relaxing! –R
It was their tradition to text each other at lunch. She sent off three quick replies before Liza came to do her nails. "I think I'll go with Holy Pink Pagoda this time."