Page 57 of Betting on the Bad Boy
Claire waved her hand in the air, signaling Blondie to take it away. “How about the pink one?”
“You’ve got to be kidding me. Pink?” I turned around as Blondie unzipped me. I took off the dress and passed it and the hanger through the curtain.
“Just try it on, Faith. It will look gorgeous with your hair.”
Sounded like I didn’t have much of a choice. Blondie entered with yards of pale pink fabric over her arm.
“First lemon, now cotton candy? Seriously, Mom, there’s no way I’m even trying this one on.”
My mother mumbled something, then a hand reached in, removing the offensive sugary pink dress. I shuddered to think what would come next. I vetoed sea foam green and a strapless apricot number. The lilac one wasn’t so bad, but it was a tad too long, and they didn’t have time to have it hemmed, so it was out.
“What’s with all the pastels? It’s almost Christmas, not Easter.”
“Faith, you’ve got to settle on something. I told Clem we’d be home in about an hour. If you don’t pick something soon, we won’t have time to get ready,” Mom said.
Blondie stood to the side, one hand tucked under her chin, the other tapping a private number on her lips. “If you’re okay moving away from pastels, I might have just the thing.” She spoke so quietly it was almost like she was talking to herself.
“Gladly!” I rolled my eyes. “Bring on the jewel tones.” I pulled my arm from a periwinkle one-shouldered getup.
“Be right back.” Blondie disappeared again.
Even she must be getting tired of this. Now if I could just get another glass of champagne. The bottle sat on a low table, not ten feet away.
“This next one has got to work,” Mom said. “I don’t care what it looks like, we’ll take it.”
At that moment, Blondie reappeared, a gray zippered dress bag draped over her arm. She stepped into the dressing room and hung it on the hook. She winked at me then left, taking the periwinkle nightmare with her.
I unzipped the bag.Now this is what I’m talking about.I wiggled into the strapless, satiny number. It fit like a glove. I opened up the curtain and Mom gasped. It hugged in all the right places, pushed up the right spots, and accentuated my tiny waist.
“This is the one,” I said.
“Oh, honey. I did tell you that this party is honoring Clem, right? The board of directors will be there, along with most of his congregation. I’m just not sure red is the right choice.”
“Mom, we’ve been here for almost two hours already. I’m done trying on dresses. I’d be happy to stay home?—”
“Fine.” She checked her watch. “We’ve got to get a move on. No telling what traffic on the 405 might be like at this time of day. I guess we’ll take it.”
A look of relief passed over Blondie’s face, quickly replaced by a giant smile. “Do you need shoes? Accessories?”
I looked at my Converse sneakers in the corner. “I guess I’m going to need shoes, too. Sorry. If you’d told me we were going to a huge party?—”
“Just pick something fast.” Mom gathered her bag and jacket and moved toward the dressing room exit. “I’ll meet you up front.”
Ten minutes later, I met my mother at the front counter. Dress, check. Strappy black heels, check. Pearl and rhinestone accessories, check. While Claire paid the bill, I sipped another long-awaited glass of champagne.
“Thanks, Mom,” I said as we left the store. “I feel bad you had to pay for everything.”
“Don’t be silly, dear. I love to treat you to nice things. Besides, I’m insisting you go with us tonight. You can’t very well go in that.” Claire gestured to my ensemble of jeans, hoodie, and sneakers.
“Yeah, what would the mysterious Carter think of me then?”
She clucked her tongue. “I don’t like your tone, dear. Carter is a lovely young man. It won’t kill you to just sit next to him for dinner. We needed another body to keep the numbers even.”
God forbid I cause a dire situation like uneven numbers at a black tie dinner party. I’d just have to dump Carter off on someunsuspecting lonely woman when the dancing started and stake a claim to a seat near the bar. Surely, I’d be able to tolerate him through dinner. Maybe the night wouldn’t be such a drag. Dressing up might even be kind of fun. I hadn’t done that in a long time.
I opened the back door of my mother’s Mercedes and hung the garment bag on the hook. Then I climbed into the passenger seat and gave her a half-hug over the center console.
Her eyebrows rose in surprise. “What was that for?”
