Page 99 of American Royals
“Sounds like we need to go shopping.” She grabbed Nina’s wrist and pulled her into the hallway.
“There are practically no dresses left in the whole city; I’ve been looking,” Nina started to protest, but Sam just kept leading her down one corridor after another.
“We’re shopping here.” She stopped when they reached a metal touch screen on one wall. Sam scanned her fingerprints, and the door silently slid open.
Nina’s eyes widened. “I didn’t know you had biosecurity anywhere except the Crown Jewels vault.”
“This isn’t the Crown Jewels vault, but it’s almost as good.” Samantha stepped eagerly inside, and the motion-sensor lights clicked on.
They were standing in an industrial-sized closet, at least five times bigger than Sam’s bedroom. On three of the walls were hanging rods, brimming with every kind of dress imaginable: formal gowns and short sequined dresses and wispy garden-party frocks. The final wall consisted of shelves lined in luxurious black suede, covered in accessories. There were hats and gloves and purses of every size, from functional leather handbags to embellished clutches so small that they could barely hold a lip gloss. Countless pairs of shoes were lined up like an array of brightly colored candies.
In the far corner, a seamstress’s platform stood before an enormous three-fold mirror. A dimmer on the wall had settings for DAY, BALLROOM, THEATER, DINNER, and NIGHT. Sam had never really understood how theater and dinner differed from the night setting, but who cared? If nothing else, it was all fun to play with.
“Welcome,” Sam intoned, in the voice of a game-show announcer, “to the Dress Closet.”
“What are all these … I mean …”
“It’s the collective closet of me, Beatrice, and my mom. Just the formal and event dresses. A lot of them have never even been worn.”
Nina turned a slow circle. “How have I never been in here?”
“We’ve never had a Code Red wardrobe emergency before.” When Nina didn’t laugh at the joke, Sam cleared her throat. “Each time we had an event coming up, I would just pull a couple of options for you. I assumed you didn’t want to come in here.”
Nina winced at her words, and Sam realized she’d said the wrong thing—reminding Nina of all those online commenters who mocked her fashion sense. Nina tugged absently at the hem of her long-sleeved dress. “You’re right. I don’t know anything about this stuff.”
Sam was glad the queen wasn’t present to hear Nina call this room—filled with thousands of dollars of couture gowns, of intricate beading and gossamer fabrics and delicate hand-stitched sequins—this stuff.
“Don’t worry, you’re in good hands. Because I know a lot.” A grin stole over Sam’s face. “And I’ve been waiting for this moment for years. You, Nina Gonzalez, have no choice but to be my human mannequin.”
Already she was prowling down the first rack, chattering as she went. “You have such a long torso, you’ll fit better into Beatrice’s gowns than mine. Which is too bad, since my style is way more fun,” she teased, pulling out one exquisite gown after another. The peach high-necked one from last year’s museum gala, covered in tiny crystals that caught the light. A gorgeous red one with black arabesques that trailed down the heavy full skirt. A dress of fuchsia silk that Beatrice once wore on a state visit to Greece. Sam draped them atop her arm, one after another in a vibrant multicolored stack.
Nina shook her head. “Sam, I can’t let you do all this. I was saving up for my own dress.”
“Great. Treat yourself to a mani-pedi tomorrow,” Sam deadpanned.
“Seriously. I’m not supposed to borrow anything from your family.”
Sam rolled her eyes. “Says who, the fashion police?”
“Robert said it, when he came to my house with a nondisclosure agreement!”
Sam fell still at that. Her grip closed over one of the felt-lined hangers, so tight that she almost snapped it. No wonder Nina thought that the Washingtons made her feel small.
“Forget Robert. He has no business telling you what to do. And if he says anything, I’ll fire him.”
“I’m not sure you have the authority to do that,” Nina replied, though she was almost smiling.
“Please.” Sam drew the word out so that it was two syllables. “Just try on a few things? You’re my oldest friend in the world, and you have never let me dress you up, not like this.”
“You’re taking advantage of my desperation,” Nina complained, but she obediently unzipped her dress and pulled on the first gown that Samantha held toward her, a slinky cobalt one covered in sequins.
“So what if I am?” Sam grinned, sliding various dresses along the titanium rods of the closet. “Are you really going to deprive me of something that brings me such joy?”
“You just like doing this because it gives you a semblance of control in a chaotic world.” Nina twisted so that Sam could pull up the zipper for her.
Sam was caught off guard by the insight. But before she could answer, Nina turned back around to face her. Her cheeks were bright with color, her eyes sparkling.
“I really missed you, Sam.”
