Page 47 of Designed for Disaster

“What?” I chased after her. Most of Stacy’s apartment was adorned with costume-related paraphernalia, especially when she was in the middle of prepping for a show, but the second bedroom was where she claimed the real magic happened. As we walked through the door, I spotted her massive sewingmachine buried under a mountain of fabric. There were shelves of scraps and shiny buttons and zippers and every color thread imaginable. The walls were crammed with wire racks draped in finished pieces and thrifted inspiration finds that Stacy sometimes used as patterns. And in the middle of the room was her cutting table where she chopped and pinned until things were perfect.

Stacy disappeared behind one of those wire racks, reappearing a moment later with a hanger strung over her finger. She dangled a frilly princess dress out in front of my face.

“Well?” she said, beaming. “What do you think? Does this scream birthday girl or what?”

I’d never seen so many bows in my entire life. “It’s definitely something…that a little girl having a birthday party would like.” I mean, not me as a little girl. But I trusted that Dominic knew his daughter well enough to ask Stacy to make the dress in the first place.

Stacy lowered the hanger and squealed at her own work. “It’s so dang cute! I can’t wait to give it to her.”

“I’m sure Hailey’s going to love it. That was her name, right?”

Stacy nodded. “Yeah. Dominic keeps texting me for updates, and I keep telling him no spoilers until the party.”

“So you two are talking a lot?” I said casually.

“Almost every day,” Stacy admitted. “I wondered if we’d run out of things to talk about once the dress was done, but he’s just so great, Tash. Maybe I should have stopped dating theater guys a long time ago.”

“So has talking moved to dating?”

“No…I don’t know. We haven’t really discussed it.” She shrugged and smiled. “But I’m not concerned. It feels right.”

Ah, there was my forever-optimist. “Well, as long as you’re happy.”

“I am. I was even happier to hear that you’re going on a date! Speaking of,” she sang, twirling away with the princess dress in hand. She disappeared behind another rack. I tried not to trip over stray scraps of material as I followed her. “This is the dress I was thinking you could wear tonight.”

My stomach flip-flopped. When Stacy had offered up a dress for me to borrow, I hadn’t realized she was talking about one she’d made. I loved the girl, but last I checked, her latest project was some sort of futuristic steampunk mashup ensemble. The last thing I needed was to meet Trent looking like a deranged robot.

“Here it is!” she announced, pulling a dark blue gown off one of the racks. She presented it to me with a flourish.

My jaw dropped. “Stacy, it’sgorgeous.”

“Isn’t it?” she said, giving me a little giggle. “And what’s more important is that you’re going to look ridiculously hot in it.”

“I can’t believe you made this.”

“It’s for a new production,” Stacy said.

“The steampunk thing?”

“No. It’s some jazzy Hollywood club whatever.” She waved off the explanation. “It’s got this big glamorous nightlife scene. Thought you could take it on a test drive for me.” She wiggled her eyebrows. “See what Trent thinks of it.”

Trent was picking me up at seven. That left me about an hour to get ready. I’d already spent far too long standing in my own closet lamenting the fact that I had nothing to wear, before Stacy had come to my rescue, insisting that she had just what I needed. And damn if she hadn’t been dead on the money.

“Well?” Stacy said, shoving the dress into my hands. “What are you waiting for? Go try it on!”

“Okay, I’m going,” I said, laughing as she ushered me down the hall and into the bathroom. I shimmied out of my clothes, a little worried I wouldn’t be able to get the dress on. A lot of the wannabe actresses she designed for were waifish to the extreme. If that was the case with whoever this dress was for, I was going to have some trouble getting my boobs in the dress. Never mind my hips and ass.

But as I slid into the dress, the fabric shifted against me like a glove, just stretchy enough to accommodate my curves. I popped the bathroom door open before Stacy could bash it down. She twisted me around, tugging the zipper up, then looked over my shoulder. We both stared at my reflection in the mirror as I turned back and forth, the light catching the sparkles in the fabric.

“That is so your color,” Stacy said proudly. “I knew it. Trent’s eyes are gonna bug out of his head.”

“Stacy,” I muttered, a little self-conscious even as I acknowledged how good the dress looked on me.

“What? Your boobs look amazing.” She took a step back. “So does your ass, for that matter. God, I’m good.”

I turned around. “It’s almost like you should get paid to do this,” I teased.

She placed her hands on my shoulders. “Now the most important question of all. What are you doing with your make-up?”

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