Page 18 of Caught
In the back seat, Chelsea sighed audibly. “That was nerve-wracking. I’m all sweaty, and I’m not even wanted by the law.”
Leilah laughed grimly. “Tell me about it.”
She parked Alia in the middle of three empty spots, a longstanding habit to minimize scratches and dings, and they followed the sidewalk to the VCC. The inside of the building resembled a Department of Motor Vehicles office, complete with a “take a number” ticket system.
They settled into a row of molded plastic chairs to wait their turn. Marielle leaned across Olivia and said, “Are we sticking with the surprising an old friend story?”
“Might as well,” Olivia said with a shrug. “It worked on the guy at the gate.”
“I think your giggly blonde routine worked on the guy at the gate,” Chelsea told her cousin.
Olivia gave her hair an exaggerated flip.
When their laughter died down, Marielle observed, “We do have the basic fantasies covered. Liv, the blonde bombshell; Chelsea, the fresh-faced All-American girl; Leilah, the gorgeous, glamorous goddess; and moi, the fashionable French-adjacent woman.”
“French-adjacent?” Chelsea echoed.
Before Marielle could retort, Leilah said with some urgency, “Important note. We may have the common fantasies covered, but none of us is going to be Reuben Cowley’s type.”
“How can you be so sure?”
“He was dating Natsuo Ito.”
Marielle considered this information. “Eh, one never knows. But I hear you.” She glanced up at the number on the digital display, then eyed the others. “I think we have time for the intervention.”
“Intervention?” Leilah asked.
Chelsea said, “Leilah, I want you to know I don’t support this.”
Marielle waved a hand at her. “Of course you don’t, with your fleece jacket and hiking pants. You can pull off the natural girl look.”
“Wait, this is a fashion intervention?” Leilah straightened her spine, indignant.
“Look at yourself,” Olivia told her bluntly. “What even is this getup?”
Marielle plucked at Leilah’s pants. “Polyester? Mon dieu.”
Leilah sputtered, “I’ve been on the run! I slept in a tent last night. Nobody packed me a go-bag, so Ryan bought me a change of clothes while I bought us a car.”
“That Volvo sedan he’s driving?” Chelsea asked.
“Yes.”
“You did better than he did,” she observed. “I mean, I say wear what you want, but …”
Leilah looked down at herself. “What’s the problem? Sweater, pants, scarf. I wear outfits like this all the time.”
“The colors are a little drab,” Olivia said. “Muted.”
“And the fabrics ….” Marielle shuddered dramatically.
“You’re being a pack of brats,” she informed them. “Ryan did the best he could. He even picked up two sweaters because he wasn’t sure which one would coordinate better with the scarf.”
“This one was the winner?” Olivia asked, giving her a side-eye.
Leilah fingered the fringe. “Okay, it’s possible he’s color blind. But he tried.”
Marielle exploded with laughter. “She’s defending him. It must be love!” Then she patted Leilah’s knee. “We’re just teasing you. You look fine. Not, you know, fabulous, like usual. But you can carry off this … whatever it is.”
