Page 31 of Devious Truth

I’m in. Tomorrow at seven.

“You’re not going to wear that, are you?” Maxine screws up her face as though the sight of the dress laying across my bed not only looks bad but smells bad, too.

“What? It’s a nice dress.”

I pick it up by the hanger and drape it over my body while turning to the full-sized mirror on the back of my closet door.

“Put it on, you’ll see what I mean.” Maxine sinks onto my bed, pulling a pillow into her lap and hugging it.

I roll my eyes. “Fine.”

Smoothing the skirt down a few minutes later, I step back in front of the mirror. Nothing about this image is working.

The dress was a vibrant cobalt when I purchased it years ago. Now, it’s a dull, washed-out blue, and the fabric clings awkwardly to all the wrong places. The neckline has stretchedout from too many washes. And the material has lost all its structure, making it boxy and shapeless. It’s more of a forgotten relic.

“You’re right. I’m supposed to be there to help raise money for the charity, not look like I am the charity.”

“You have to have something else.” She jumps from the bed and combs through my closet.

“They’re all like this one, old.” I frown at my wardrobe.

It’s been so long since I’ve needed anything other than everyday wear, I haven’t bothered to add anything to my closet other than jeans.

She keeps looking. “You can go through my closet, but my clothes are all going to be too big for you.”

“I think I still have a black dress.” I reach past her for the last hanger in the row.

I’ve only worn it once.

“Hmm. I don’t know.” She tilts her head one way then the other, inspecting the simple black dress with the long skirt and three-quarter sleeves.

“It’s not very sexy.”

“No. It’s not.” It had been a last-minute purchase when I realized I didn’t have anything black to wear.

After the funeral, I’d stripped out of it and hung it up. The day had been so horrible, filled with so much grief, I can’t remember if I even washed it before I put it away.

“Maybe that’s good though? It won’t give him the wrong impression.”

“And what’s that?” She quirks an eyebrow.

“That this is anything other than a business transaction.”

“You are the only woman in the world who can look at that man and not want to give him a reason to take the dress off.” She shakes her head.

“I’m not saying he’s not attractive; he is, but he’s?—”

“If you say he’s your boss, I’m going to smack you.” She yanks the hanger from my grip and tosses the dress on the bed. “If that’s the only reason you have, it’s weak. Obviously, there’s some interest there, at least on his end, right? I mean, you said yourself, he could have asked anyone to go with him tonight.”

“But—”

“No more buts. You’re going out. You’re going to have a good time. But first, we need to do something to make that dress look better. Where’s your jewelry?”

“Jewelry?”

The hope falls from her face as a knock sounds from the front door of my apartment.

“He’s early?” Her eyes widen.

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