Page 16 of Breaking Free

“One of my dresses, of course. With your curves and long legs, you’ll be a walking advertisement!”

Her face must have reflected her horror because Josie quickly added, “I promise it will be conservative, covering all the important parts.”

Piper mimicked wiping beads of sweat from her brow. “I imagined—”

“A cupless bra and a thong?” Josie suggested back at the coffeemaker, inserting a pod for a second cup.

“Worse.” Then she asked, wide-eyed, “Do you make those?”

“I make that and much less. Some dresses are little more than a series of straps. But yours will be classy.” She returned to her seat, reached across the table, and squeezed her hand. “You’re doing me a huge favor, Piper. Do you realize how much leather I could sell?”

In a split second, her face underwent a complete transformation. Her auburn brows furrowed, and she nervously bit her lip, shifting from exuberance to anxiety.

“What if I can’t handle the volume? I mean, I have stock on hand, but not in all sizes and designs. And pre-mades will need alterations and fittings. Holy shit! What have I gotten myself into?”

“First, breathe,” Piper urged her friend. “Second, make a sign for your booth that says allow however many weeks for special orders and sizes then hire some help afterward.”

Considering her suggestion, Josie nodded. “I could do that.” Then she asserted with more confidence, “I can do this.”

“Yes, you can,” she agreed, smiling.

Picking up her mug, she followed her advice and took a deep breath before sipping, although her worried look didn’t completely go away. Then, like a trouper, she changed the subject. “That’s enough about me. How are your auditions going?”

Piper leaned back in her chair and grunted. “As they say back home, as slow as molasses in January. But on the bright side, closings are going incredibly well. I’m grateful to have that to fall back on if my acting career is a bust.”

“I don’t mean to pry, but does that earn enough to pay your bills?”

“Back in Iowa, no way. But closings in LA are $300-450 a pop depending on time and complexity, and I’ve been averaging three a day.”

Josie gazed back at her, obviously doing the math in her head, then she blinked in astonishment. “Damn. I picked the wrong business.”

“You’re an artist and get to do what you love. I have an analytical mind that helps me make sure all the Is are dotted, and the Ts are crossed. Not the same thing, and not what I want to do all my life.” Piper pulled out her phone. “When is this event, so I can clear my calendar?”

“Two weeks from Saturday from one to five before the club officially opens at six. Once we pack up, that doesn’t give us much time, but I’m hoping there will be a few lulls to snoop and gawk.”

So did she, but if she came across a shadowy, sconce-lit room with stone walls, she’d lose it.

“Saturday works for me,” she said, leaving thoughts of the dungeon and Tristan for another time and place. “I don’t do weekend signings, and it’s not like I have casting directors beating down my door.”

Josie let out a heavy sigh and grabbed her hand again. “Thank you. You’ve set my mind at ease.”

“You’re making a go of your own business. You would do great even without me.”

“You think that because... What’s that old saying? Fake it until you make it? As you just saw, I’m a nervous wreck. Maybe I missed my calling and should have been an actress.”

Piper chuckled and teasingly offered, “We could swap careers.”

Josie vehemently shook her head. “No way am I going through what you do, getting ready for auditions and then sitting on pins and needles, waiting for callbacks. I may act like I have a thick skin, but I am not good at rejection.”

“Neither am I. Impenetrable Tristan is a good example.”

“Maybe you’ll meet someone more approachable at Club Decadence. My loose-lipped clients tell me the owners are all ex-military hotties like our neighbor. Confident and dominant, sure, but hopefully not as grumpy.”

“Hmm. Now I’m really glad I said yes.”

They touched mugs and sat back to finish their coffee silently, both lost in their thoughts.

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