by Lee, Nadia
“No. I was just going through that storyboarding training. I’m almost finished, too.”
What? “Almost finished? There are, like, a dozen videos in that series.”
Not to mention, I only brought it up yesterday when she asked me what she could do to make herself more valuable to me and the company. She nodded and jotted it down on her legal pad, so I’m ninety-nine percent certain she didn’t know about the training before then. And she didn’t really need to watch it, because it’s more useful for analysts who do a lot of presentations than an assistant. But she’s done almost all other online training we have, so it was the best pick out of what was left.
“Actually, only nine,” Erin says. “And they go fast. I’m already on video number six. I can finish the entire program by tomorrow at the rate things are going.”
I want to ask, Don’t you have a life? But that would be rude. Besides, she might’ve misunderstood what I said and thought I wanted her to complete it over the weekend. I should talk to her on Monday, clarify my expectations so she doesn’t blow a weekend like this again. I’m a firm believer in working hard, but then you have to play hard, too. Otherwise you burn out.
“Aren’t you at the charity auction?” she asks, as though she just realized. “Why are you calling? Is something wrong?”
“Nothing that can’t be fixed,” I say quickly.
Someone comes in, opening the door loudly, then pees in one of the urinals. The sound is like a deafening waterfall. How much did he drink?
I cup a hand over the mic and my mouth, hoping she doesn’t catch the noise. “I need you to come here.”
“Okay. If I leave now, I can meet you in front of the hotel in half an hour or less, I think. What do you need me to bring?”
“Nothing. Just put on something nice.”
“Nice?” she repeats blankly.
“Yeah. Like, um…a black cocktail dress.” Every woman owns one, according to my cousin Kathleen.
“I don’t have any that I can wear.” Erin is almost whispering. It’s like she’s confessing a crime.
What the hell? How could Kathleen be wrong about something like this? She’s a freakin’ model! Shit. “You don’t have anything dressy?”
“Um. No…?”
Mr. Niagara finally flushes before I can figure out the next step.
“David?”
“Yeah?”
“Are you in a bathroom?”
“No,” I say, not wanting her to know I’m making this phone call in a hotel bathroom stall. It just seems…ridiculous. “Of course not. It’s a presentation sound effect.” I try for a laugh. “Whoever put this thing together really went overboard.”
“Oh.” She sounds skeptical, but doesn’t pursue it.
I try to think fast. A dress, a dress, a dress…
“Just start getting ready,” I say finally. “Thirty minutes, right? And text me your address. I’ll figure the dress out for you.”
“Do you need me to do it faster?”
Half an hour is a world record for women, in my experience. “No, no. That’s fine.”
“Okay. I’m really sorry I don’t have a dress.” Based on her tone, she might as well be saying, “I’m sorry I deleted that marketing campaign that you spent an entire month working on.”
“No, no, it’s okay. I’m asking at the last minute. You couldn’t have known. Thanks for being so flexible, Erin.”
“Oh, it’s my pleasure. Just doing my job.”
I want to tell her she’s doing me a favor because it isn’t her job to fix my personal life, but that feels like oversharing. Instead, I make a mental note to give her a special bonus out of my own fund. She deserves it. And I’m also getting her a gift certificate to a fancy boutique so she can buy herself a decent cocktail dress.
I hang up, considering my options. If this were Virginia, I could send out an SOS to any one of my female cousins. But I’m in California, and I don’t know that many women out here. Hookups don’t count, and I can’t ask them to let my assistant borrow their dresses. Charlotte would lend me one, but she’s too tall and buxom.
So who…?
An idea pops into my head: Dane!
Well, not Dane, but his wife. Sophia is about the same height as Erin and has the same slender build. She must have something Erin can borrow for a night. The woman dresses like a queen.
Filled with optimism, I call his number.
“Why are you calling me instead of giving money to my cousin?”
This is him being friendly, actually answering my call, rather than having it go to voicemail or hanging up immediately.
“Don’t be a dick,” I say. “I’m actually not calling you, but Sophia.”
“Why do you want to talk to my wife?” Dane says, instantly suspicious.
“Because I need a dress.”
“Shop at a drag queen store if you need one. Hers won’t fit you. Besides, they’re too good for you even if you were her size.”
“Fuck you.” The worst comeback in the universe, but I’m pressed for time and can’t come up with anything better. “It’s not for me. A woman I know. A woman her size.” I sigh. “Will you just put her on the phone?”
There is a pause, during which Dane somehow manages to convey a perfect blend of impatience and annoyance. “You’re on speaker.”
“Hi, Sophia, this is David.”
“Hi, David. So what’s going on?” she asks, her voice warm and friendly. Not Dane friendly, but normal-human-being friendly.
“I need your help. My assistant needs to borrow a dress. It’s for the charity auction I’m at right now.” You know, the one your husband isn’t going to bother to attend because he’s an antisocial asshole.
“Your assistant? You didn’t take Charlotte?”
“Charlotte, unfortunately, had other plans. Got snatched away, so to speak. And I really need someone to pose as my girlfriend.”
“Wow, I smell a story.”
“Yeah, um… I’m kind of pressed for time here,” I say.
“All right, but I want to hear all about it when you get a chance.”
Dane grumbles something under his breath. Probably “Your time is better spent with me” or something similarly whiny. He thinks nobody should bother—or even be near—his wife. Jealous, possessive asshole. I almost can’t imagine what Sophia sees in him.
“I’ll text the address to Dane,” I say. “You are an angel. He doesn’t deserve you.”
“Shut it. I earned her,” Dane says.
I don’t argue with that because he did. And to be honest, the man is so solicitous with his wife that it’s sickening.
He adds, “And you need to start dressing your own woman if you’re going to insult me.”
“Sophia’s the one who’s helping me dress my woman, so I’ll insult you whenever I feel like,” I say, since our friendship wouldn’t be complete otherwise.
Dane mutters something that sounds like “fuck you,” and Sophia giggles.
“You’re the best, Sophia,” I say. “Thanks. I gotta go. I need to make some other arrangements.”
“Are you going to be able to send a limo?” Sophia asks.
“Oh, shit.” Do I have the time to arrange for one? Do I even know any limo companies in the area? It’s the sort of detail Erin would take care of, but she’s busy getting ready. “No.” Erin shouldn’t drive her Corolla to the event. In case Shelly decides to stalk her or something.
Actually, there’s no “in case” about it. She will be stalking.
“I’ll take care of it,” Sophia says.
My shoulders sag with relief. “Thank you. I really owe you one.”
I hang up, then rush out of the bathroom to find Elizabeth and make sure security doesn’t turn Erin away by mistake.
Chapter Five
Erin
I stare at my phone after David hangs up, unsure as to what he meant by “get ready” or what he needs me for. I told him I didn’t have anything to wear, and I don’t know
how he’s going to fix that. It’s not like he can go out and buy me a dress. And he needs to be at the auction. There will be photographers and journalists covering the event. He probably needs to be seen and mingle with all the important people in L.A. Networking is part of his job, but he doesn’t need me hovering over him for that. Actually, he might do better without me there.
Still, since he told me to get ready, I guess I should at least try to put on some makeup, do my hair and wait for the clothes that he’s going to “figure out.”
I don’t really have a lot of stuff on my vanity, so I just put some powder on my nose and apply light eye shadow. As for my hair, it sits limp and boring around my face after I undo the chignon. Do I have enough time to attempt anything fancy?
Do you know how to do anything fancy?
I sigh at the thought. I don’t know how to do anything with my hair except pull it back into a bun. My mom used to do all sorts of cool, complicated braids for my hair when I was little, but I never learned. It seemed like she’d always be around.
A sudden pang pierces my chest, and I bite my lip. I miss her terribly. Maybe it’s that horrible call I got from Dad earlier that’s making me so sad. She would’ve never asked me to do something I didn’t want to do. She certainly wouldn’t have asked me to marry a man I didn’t love just so Dad could have an easier time winning an election.
Annoyed with myself for being moody, I run a plastic comb ruthlessly through my hair and twist it into a chignon again. It will have to do.
As I study myself, I wonder if David is going to be embarrassed if I show up like this. The women he’s seen with look so sophisticated and beautiful…and I’m neither. Or maybe it won’t matter. It isn’t like I’m his date.
Regardless, I don’t know what more I can do. Should I look up some makeup tutorials on YouTube? But what if I mess it up? And how much time do I have to practice?
Oh, man. I wish David had told me I needed to go to this event yesterday. That way, I could’ve spent the day getting ready rather than watching those training videos. And should I pack some things? Maybe a notebook and a pen in case he needs me to take notes? He should’ve been more specific about my duties at the auction. Hopefully he doesn’t expect me to bid, because I have no money for that.
The doorbell rings, and I bite my lip, feeling a little queasy. I’m just not ready for this. But I can’t pretend I’m not home, either. David obviously needs me.
I go over and open the door to find a couple who are too gorgeous and well-dressed to be couriers. The man has a forbidding look, standing protectively over the woman, his piercing blue eyes cataloging his surroundings. He’s holding a couple of garment bags. The woman is petite and stunning, with fine features and a warm smile.
She waves. “Hi. I’m Sophia Pryce. David sent me.”
No judging. Just friendliness. I relax a little, then remember I should smile, too, which I do. “Hi. I’m Erin. Would you like to…?” I gesture them in, wondering why her name sounds vaguely familiar.
When the man next to her doesn’t say anything, she pokes him in the side.
“I’m Dane,” he says grudgingly.
I’ve heard of Dane Pryce, but I never had a chance to meet him. I’m a little surprised that he and David are good friends, since David’s such a great, personable guy. Opposites must attract.
“Hi,” I say, then watch Dane and Sophia take up the space in my small living room.
Dane puts the garment bags down on the back of a dining chair. Sophia smiles and says, “I wasn’t sure what you like, but I thought something simple and classic would work well.”
“Thank you. Simple and classic is perfect,” I say, since my makeup and hair are simple as well. I still don’t know precisely what David needs me at the charity function for, so I want to be versatile.
I wonder if they’re going to leave now that they’ve accomplished what they came here to do. But Sophia comes closer and peers at the skin around my eyes. Oh, no. Do I have something there?
“I love what you did, but do you mind if I make a little adjustment?” Sophia asks.
I knew it! I knew I didn’t do a good job. I smile awkwardly, embarrassed and flustered. “Um, sure. You can do whatever you want. Let me bring my makeup out.” I rush to the bedroom, grab my small makeup bag and bring it over to her.
We sit down at my dining table. She takes out the eyeliner pencil I bought on a whim—but have never used—eye shadows and some brushes.
“Can you close your eyes?” she asks.
“Sure.” I do as I’m told. I can feel a little tugging and pulling, the touch light and soft. Nerves jitter through me, and I hope Sophia knows how to make me more presentable.
“Hmm. That looks better. You can open your eyes now.” She opens a compact and directs the small mirror my way.
I blink at the smoky thing she did. It makes my eyes look bigger and darker. Amazingly, I actually look somewhat glamorous now. “Wow. You’re a genius.”
She flushes. “It’s just some stage makeup. I learned how to do it when I was a young girl.”
“Really?” Must be how sophisticated people spend their childhood. I still don’t know how to do it, and I’m twenty-six.
“I used to compete in figure skating. So.” She shrugs. “Now, let’s help you pick out a dress. Dane, do you mind opening the bags?”
“Of course not.” The smile he gives his wife is so full of gooey sweetness that it’s surreal. What happened to Mr. Grumpy Manners? Or is that just for me?
He unzips both. One is red with an asymmetrical hemline and strategically placed sequins to look like flames. The second one is deep blue and has a gorgeous flower on the left shoulder, leaving the right bare. The bodice and skirt are both ruched for texture.
Oh wow. They’re both amazing—something I might only see in fancy fashion photos. If this is a sample of what’s in Sophia’s closet, she must have one of the best wardrobes in the country.
The red one calls to me, like fire seducing a moth. But I don’t think I have the pizzazz to pull it off. Besides, it’s too vivid and bold. I don’t want to be an attention magnet. And David will have Charlotte on his arm. He won’t want me to stand out too much. Whatever I’m to do at the auction must require me to blend in. That’s what assistants are for, anyway.
“I think the blue will be best. It’ll bring out my eyes,” I say, like that’s the real reason.
“Great choice,” Sophia says. “The red would look amazing on you too, with your complexion, but blue is also fantastic. Why don’t you go change? If it doesn’t fit right, we’ll do the red.”
Giving her a small smile, I take the dress to my bedroom and put it on, praying it fits perfectly because I really don’t want to put on the red dress.
But my prayers are in vain. The ruche on the fabric won’t sit right, and it keeps pulling the hem up to a point that’s just too short. I stare at the mirror, wanting to cry. I have no choice but to put on the red one. The one that screams, “Look at meeee.”
Sophia knocks on the door. “Erin? You okay in there?”
“Um. I think I might have to try the red one.”
“Okay.” She opens the door a crack and slips the red dress through.
I take it, feeling like a failure that I can’t make the unobtrusive blue one look right on me…then feel ridiculous about my reaction. These aren’t even my own clothes. “Thank you.”
Now I say another prayer…that the red one fits worse than the blue so I have to choose the lesser of two evils.
But no. The red flows over my body perfectly. And no matter how I twist and turn, it looks gorgeous.
I sigh. There’s no way I can wear the ruched dress because I’ll be fiddling with it constantly. And if I’m going to be ill at ease at a big social gathering anyway, I might as well not have to tug and rearrange my outfit, too.
Since my everyday sensible Mary Janes won’t work, I dig deeper into my closet until I find a pair of silver sandals I bought on impulse th
e day David hired me. I felt so buoyant that I couldn’t resist them when I saw them on display, even though they’re incredibly impractical. But finally my frivolous purchase is going to prove useful.
When I leave the bedroom, Sophia whistles. “You look amazing. Here’s the matching clutch and earrings.”
I gape at her. The earrings she’s holding are chandeliers made with what have to be real rubies. They’re too gorgeous to be plain red stones. There’s no way I can wear something that expensive. If I lose her earrings, I’ll have to sell a kidney to replace them. The dress and clutch are already too much.
“The clutch is fine, but I can’t accept those earrings. I think I’ll do the pearl ones.”
“I don’t know,” she says dubiously.
“Pearl earrings will look terrible,” Dane says flatly, startling me. He’s been so quiet that I almost forgot about him.
“He’s right,” Sophia says. “You’ll look better with these. You can give them to David after you’re done.”
I hesitate, torn between the desire not to borrow something so expensive and the equally strong desire to not embarrass my boss. Finally, I nod. “Okay. Thank you.”
Sophia beams. After putting in the earrings, I put my credit card, phone and a few small bills into the clutch.
“You ready?” she says.
“Yes. And thank you. I wouldn’t have been able to pull this off without you.”
Dane scoffs. “The person who should be thanking us is David.”
My hackles rise instantly. Nobody gets to talk like that about my boss when he’s not around, especially not to me. On the other hand, Dane’s wife just let me borrow her dress, clutch and earrings, so maybe I shouldn’t chastise him too hard. “Maybe so, but I’m his assistant, so…”
“But you didn’t ask. He did.” Dane’s voice is so icy that my skin breaks out in goosebumps.
I should just get going rather than waste time with this. David is waiting.
I start to reach for my keys, but Sophia shakes her head. “We’ll drive you.”
“David is going to want to bring you back home himself,” Dane says.
He is? He never said anything about that. On the other hand, Dane doesn’t strike me as the type to say things he doesn’t know to be true. “You don’t have to. I can just grab an Uber.”
