Bethany looked like the typical southern belle. Tasteful but flirty floral sundress, sweet high heel Mary Janes, hose. Her long blonde hair meticulously curled and sprayed yet touchably soft. Guys jumped to be chivalrous for her. Everywhere she went doors opened before her, chairs got pulled out beneath her, and men fell to their knees begging for marriage.
But she did have that steel magnolia edge. She owned and operated a very successful shop in SoHo, and a sweet gal didn’t last long in the city without learning to bite back.
“Oh my heavens,” Beth exclaimed as she got a good look at the magazine in Fiona’s clutches, “that’s Gavin!”
“Yeah,” Fiona answered, dropping the magazine to her lap. “Hot, huh?”
Beth will defend me. We’ve been friends since freshman year at Columbia, since befor
