Page 49 of The Renter
“Hottie!” she says as I put on a satin dress. “But satin is no good for tonight.”
I cock my head, not understanding.
“You sit for hours. Then, you stand up, wrinkles everywhere. It will look terrible,” she explains.
Swept up in her energy, I nearly forgot the whirlwind of emotions I was experiencing.
“Now, sit in this one,” Nikola instructs after I slip into an elegant dress.
I look at her, puzzled. “Sit?”
She laughs. “You’re dining at One. It’s not just a meal; it’s an experience. You’ll be sitting for at least three hours. You need to be comfortable. Is it too tight in the hips?”
Sitting in the chair in the fitting room, Nikola’s eyes stare at me like we’re making a serious decision, far more serious than what dress I should wear to dinner. I laugh at the exchange and the practicality of her advice. “Sitting, yes. It’s too tight in the hips.”
I would never have thought about that, and I’m happy she’s concerned about the fashion and function of it all.
In a maroon dress that hugs me without being too tight, I sit down. Nikola nods in approval. “See? You look stunning, and you’ll be comfortable!”
I admire myself in the mirror, still trying to wrap my head around the evening ahead.
As Nikola brings in shoes and accessories, I’m caught between excitement for the evening and a growing sense of unease.
“Have you ever done this before?” I ask hesitantly. “For one of Adam’s dates.”
“Dates.” She laughs. “He doesn’t date. Like I said, you are a very special girl.”
A smirk grows on my face, loving that this experience is unique for all parties involved.
Examining the dress I’m wearing paired with black strappy heels, Nikola asks, “And what about your hair and makeup for tonight?”
I shrug. “I guess I could straighten my hair and do a smokey eye or something.”
Nikola scoffs, “Absolutely not. You need something more fitting for One and this dress. Let me make some calls.”
She pulls out her phone and starts speaking in rapid Russian. I watch her, fascinated by her confidence and assertiveness. After a couple of minutes, she ends the call and turns back to me with a satisfied smile. “They’ll meet you at Adam’s.”
I’m taken aback, not only by her efficiency, but also by the fact that she knows where Adam lives. I guess it makes sense for a high-profile client like him to have in-home styling appointments. But a fleeting thought crosses my mind—have they ever hooked up?
Pushing the thought aside, I focus on the present. “Thank you.”
She waves her hand dismissively, as if it were nothing. “It’s my job.”
Adam’s Chicago life, his real life, it’s a world where money is no object. Hopefully, at least. What I’m wearing tonight is so expensive. Adam and I have a lot to talk about. We need to put some guardrails on our relationship.
36
When the last meeting of my day comes to an end, my thoughts immediately turn to Dani. I feel a pang of guilt for not being available when she needed me, especially after the uncomfortable situation with Wendy I’m now learning about.
“I’m sorry about today,” I apologize as Dani answers my call. “It’s unacceptable, and I’m frustrated Allison hadn’t informed me about Wendy’s visit until now.”
“I survived,” she replies with a hint of sass.
“I should fire Allison. This is not okay. She should have let me know.”
“No!” Dani quickly interjects. “Allison was great.” Her empathy, even toward someone she barely knew, is one of the many qualities I admire about her. “It was a little blip, and I’m embarrassed and mad at myself that I called your ex a bitch.”
I smirk, pleased with Dani but don’t want to let it show. “Do you still want to go out tonight?” I ask, confirming.
