Page 20 of The Body in the Backyard
“Here. Try these,” Robeena announced, shoving two garment bags at Nick.
Riley smothered a laugh as her boyfriend all but levitated out of his boots to get away from the wardrobe mistress, mumbling something that sounded a little bit like “poor unfortunate souls.”
“Good luck,” Riley called after him as he hightailed it to the safety of the dressing room.
Alistair fluttered his fingertips together and turned his attention on her. “Now, Riley, my dear. Before we choose something for you, tell me—who will be there tonight?”
She frowned. “I don’t actually know. We’re going as personal security for my ex-husband. He invited us about an hour ago.”
“Ex-husband, you say? Was this an amicable split?”
“Only if you call nearly forcing me into bankruptcy after I caught him cheating amicable.”
Robeena returned with an armful of gowns. “Here,” she said, irritably shoving them at Alistair. “Don’t say I never did anything for you.”
He ignored the crabby costume maven and tossed aside a lace gown with bell sleeves. “This doesnotsay, ‘I’m better off without you.’”
Riley chewed on her lower lip. “I’m not really sure that my dress needs to say anything. We’re there to work.”
“It physically pains me to agree with this delusional fool, but your dress is going to say something whether you want it to or not. Might as well make it a knockout,” Robeena said as Alistair discarded two more dresses.
Nick slunk out of the dressing room in his regular clothes. “This one fits,” he said, holding up one garment bag without making eye contact with Robeena.
“No fashion show?” Alistair gave a disappointed tut-tut.
Nick’s phone rang. Still keeping Robeena at a distance, he cursed and yanked out his phone. “What’s up, Bri? Hang on. I’m in a fucking dungeon. Let me see if I can get a better signal far away from here.”
“You’re welcome,” Robeena called after him as he all but sprinted for the exit.
“Thank you,” Nick squeaked before slamming the door behind him.
“The theater makes everyone dramatic,” Alistair said and shooed Riley toward the dressing room.
The first dress was pink, frothy, and strapless, but it was too itchy, and the sequins gouged the sensitive skin under her arms.
The second dress was a perfectly acceptable navy number in simple satin. However, Alistair insisted it wasn’t “main character enough.”
The third dress had a singed bustle and was missing a large amount of fabric from the skirt.
“Oops. That was an accident when we were rehearsingThe Arsonists,” Robeena noted.
Riley eyed the fourth and final dress hanging in the dressing room. “No pressure, but it’s either you or I go to this thing in yoga pants and a sweatshirt,” she said to the sparkly red gown.
She slipped it over her head and contorted herself to mostly zip it up. She was sweating by the time she bothered looking in the mirror.
“Oh boy,” she murmured.
“That sounds like a good reaction,” Alistair said, yanking back the curtain. “Oh. Boy. If I weren’t G-er than the Ice Capades, you in that dress would have me turning Q.”
It was Jessica Rabbit red with a sea of tiny blinding sparkles. Strapless with a deep V of beige mesh fabric that swooped almost to her belly button, the dress cinched at the waist with a rhinestone belt. The slit over her left leg went several inches higher on the thigh than she thought necessary.
“Here. Try it with this.” Robeena shoved a ruby-red domino mask at her.
Alistair fitted it in place and secured the ribbon. “Now this says, ‘I know you still think about me,’” he said with satisfaction.
Robeena harrumphed. “It doesn’t say it. It screams it.”
“I don’t really need to say anything like this to Griffin,” Riley hedged. “A few months ago, he begged me to be his mistress. Besides, isn’t personal security supposed to blend in?”
