Page 86 of The Cupcake Standard

“Damn straight you will. I’ll text you the address, and my personal shoppers will be on standby.”

I just polished off my last taco when Greg pulled up to the address Rhonda had texted me. The storefront simply read Lit despite the sign being dark. “Are you sure this is it?” Not that I doubted Greg. I was more questioning Rhonda’s address than him.

He arched an eyebrow at me in the mirror as he took a bite of his burrito.

“Yeah, sorry. I said it before I thought about it.” I sent a quick text to Rhonda just as the shop door flew open.

Rhonda stood in the doorway, waving her arm with a gesture big enough to flag down a 747.

I opened the back door of the Town Car. “Sorry, it’s dark. I wasn’t sure.”

“Shh,” she hissed, grabbing my arm and yanking me inside without even giving me time to close the car door.

I glanced over my shoulder to see Greg muttering to himself as he circled around to shut it. I’d have to thank him later because all the store windows were tinted and the lights were off, making it nearly impossible to see. “What’s going on?”

“Just shut up and follow me.”

Since I didn’t have much choice, I did as I was told. She led us down a winding hallway, me tripping over my own feet a few times. I breathed a sigh of relief when light beckoned, becoming brighter and brighter, finally opening into a room. Then I almost wished for the dark. We were surrounded by dresses in all shapes and colors—racks and racks of them.

Designer names shouted their presence from the top of most of the racks, so many I could hardly take them all in. The pressure was almost unbearable as they surrounded me, all these designers, all these beautiful gowns in a rainbow of colors. The majority not my size. What am I doing here?

Rhonda tugged me over to three formidable women in pantsuits who stood at perfect attention, one with a measuring tape draped over her neck, thick frames perched on her nose, and an unlit cigarette hanging from her lip.

Nodding at the lady, Rhonda said, “This is Selena, my personal shopper, and her assistants. She will guide you to the right dresses.”

I nearly laughed at the introduction, a little too Zen for my usual taste. Then I was glad I’d managed not to laugh as Selena stepped forward with all the seriousness of a heart attack.

“Tell me about the events.” She began moving my limbs as if I were a doll, shoving my legs apart, no regard for my balance or personal space.

Rhonda filled her in on the details, which I was grateful for, especially since I knew next to nothing about the gala.

“Walk for me.”

There was no question of disobeying her. I was simply walking before I’d even processed her command, finding the clearest space between the racks.

“What will your date be wearing?”

I’d seen one of Derek’s nice suits, the one he’d worn for dinner at his parents’. I glanced at Rhonda for help.

She swished a hand in the air. “It’s my brother, so whatever we tell him to.”

Selena sniffed, in approval I hoped. “Are we doing just the dress? Or the whole kit and caboodle?”

“My brother left very specific instructions that she was to be completely taken care of for both occasions. He also said to remind you of your conversation Sunday? Regarding his favorite article of clothing?” Rhonda arched a narrow eyebrow in my direction, making me bite my lip.

I realized they were waiting for me to tell them what he meant and I stammered out, “He liked these lacy topped stockings I wore. A lot.”

Selena gave me an appraising glance. “Perhaps there’s more to you after all. Now let me think.” She summoned her two assistants, giving them orders that I didn’t understand, but they returned with specific dresses or fabric. Selena would eye me, then nod or wave them away.

My anxiety lessened as Selena requested option after option, many from brands I’d never heard of. She doesn’t seem worried, so why should I? Excitement started trickling in. I’d been around designer labels so much I was practically immune to their status. But the idea of picking out something tailored for me? To shop for an outfit made for me, for my body, with me in mind? A thrill went through me, and I smiled, hardly able to comprehend the notion.

Then it was time for the modeling session. First, I was stripped.

As Selena informed me in her haughty tone, “We must start from the ground up. Can’t build a masterpiece on quicksand.”

Her fancy way of saying my underwear sucks, evidently. I had to admit though, the bra I was stuffed into was really something. Not only did it make me look amazing, it actually felt comfortable. “Um, can I have a couple of these?”

Rhonda sniffed. “She’ll take five, in varying colors.”

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