by Lisa Gillis
Maybe the lingerina wasn’t a total snob. Marissa pulled her gaze from the other woman’s sleek mane of hair to the dresses being pulled from various racks. Trepidation caused her hand to shake as she put it out exploring a black gown.
“Not black,” Leanna instructed, and Marissa noticed her accomplice was flipping through brighter colors. Dropping her hand, she nevertheless noted the location of the black for future reference. Jack liked her in black.
The color spectrum of these dresses seemed all hued from black, white, and red. When Leanna held up a deep pink, Marissa vigorously shook her head.
Gigi was soon back, bearing a bucket of chilled wine and two frosty glasses. Leanna graciously thanked the girl and poured two glasses extending one Marissa’s way. When Gigi held up a dress for perusal, Leanna wrinkled her nose and winked asking, “So where is Jeannette today?”
“I will be glad to call her.” Nervously, the girl chose another dress and sent a furtive look to Leanna, then Marissa.
Depositing her glass on the table, Marissa asked, “Where is the dressing room?”
Gigi led the way and insisted on carrying the selections in. To Marissa’s surprise, Leanna trailed her into the lush room and perched on a settee with her wineglass.
Marissa considered asking her to leave, but the atmosphere was already weird enough. Besides, it wasn’t as if she was not used to company while trying on clothing. Olivia was forever peeking over, or opening the door of the tiny dressing rooms in the stores they inhabited. How she wished her missed friend was here, instead of Leanna.
Maybe being a lingerie model made the other woman less inhibited. Maybe Leanna’s interest included women as well as men? Trying not to stare, Marissa rolled her jeans and shirt into a semi tidy mass and used the mirror to covertly observe Leanna’s eyes blatantly moving over her bared skin. Maybe this was just how it was in LA.
Stepping into the lacey black dress, she sneaked another look and found the other woman on the move, closing in to pull together the zipper. Standing back, Leanna’s face filled with awe, and the same expression flooded her words.
“I know I said no black, but you rock that dress!”
Mariss you are so rockin’ that dress. Jack’s words came to mind in response to another black dress. Shaking the sweet memories, Marissa pirouetted, scrutinizing her reflection.
“Why no black?”
“It’s a drop party, babe. Not a funeral! But you are obviously authorized for black!” Leanna retreated to her observation seat and her wine.
“So, is black frowned upon or just not worn often?” Marissa smoothed the flyaways in her hair as she once more admired the smooth shine of Leanna’s hair.
“Just rarely worn. Except by the guys.”
“How many will be there?”
“Guys?” Leanna asked with a goofy raise of one brow. “Many, I hope.”
“Total…” Marissa laughed with Leanna and again eyed the mirror reluctantly conceding against black.
“Five-hundred? Give or take a hundred.” Leanna paused with her glass mid-sip as she pondered. “But they trickle in and out.” Tipping her stem, the other woman swigged the contents of the glass. The carefree attitude vanished with a poof, and Leanna reassured, “Don’t be spooked! Everyone, for the most part, at these things is cool. Can’t say the same for some of the other raves, but drop parties are the best!”
Announcing the need for more wine, Leanna sprinted out without bothering to close the door. They were the only ones in the boutique, so Marissa quelled the nerdish urge to push it all the way shut, and contorted enough to unzip the dress. Leanna was back, carrying the bottle and two more dresses while Marissa was indisposed between the first dress and the next.
Leanna’s eyes skimmed over Marissa again, and this time when she helped zip, she asked, “You ever think of modeling lingerie?”
“Never,” Marissa firmly returned and coughed out a short laugh. She sobered when Leanna appeared hurt. At first, Marissa was confused, then realized the misunderstanding and hastened to correct her words. “I mean, first, I would have to have the body. Next, an agent would need to look in the grocery store to recruit me.”
Quickly grasping that Marissa hadn’t disparaged the career, Leanna laughed and then insisted, “You could, you know. Well obviously, you don’t know. But I’m telling you, you could.”
Marissa considered the other girl’s lithe figure before dubiously turning to the mirror.
Leanna swilled the last sip around the glass as she elaborated, “Things have taken a turn the last couple of years. They are looking for beauty that is also real. I’ve been forced a few times to gain weight.”
That remark stung. Marissa smoothed at the satiny eggplant colored fabric while viewing her waist in the mirror with a critical eye. So far, she had only seen genuine niceness in the other woman, so she quickly discarded the possibility that Leanna was being catty.
“Jack’s aunt recruited me into the industry. That is how we met. Jack and I. Through his aunt.”
Reaching for the next dress, Marissa wondered whether the wine had loosened Leanna’s tongue or whether this monologue was an extension of a chatty personality.
“Jack’s aunt is a model?” Marissa asked, turning the hanger as she contemplated whether to try another dress.
“Was. Now she is a buyer, or something, for Victoria,” Leanna abbreviated the label she worked for. Discarding her empty glass, she went on, “Candace, that’s his aunt, and I had Pilates together. Years ago. She got me a modeling gig.”
This information was disconcerting. Not only were Jack and Leanna Miranda ‘friends,’ but also they had a family friend connection.
For the dozenth time today, she assessed the svelte woman’s many attributes. For the dozenth time this week, she imagined that beautiful body locked in Jack’s most intimate embrace. For the dozenth time, period, she forceclosed that noxious image.
“And now, I have to visit the little girl’s room!” Hopping up again, Leanna took a step toward the open door, and Marissa spoke out stopping her.
“Leanna! Wait!”
“Not Leanna.” Pivoting back to face the room, the other woman corrected with a smile, “Randi.”
So, Randi wasn’t a nickname exclusive to Jack.
The knowledge worked to thaw Marissa’s cold shoulder another degree or two, and she actually curved a genuine smile while striking a pose. “What do you think? This is the one right?”
CHAPTER 9
FULLY TAKING IN the current dress, Randi curved an agreeing grin and then moved closer to examine the fit.
In some crazy tint between black and red, the hue complimented Marissa’s coloring as beautifully as, or better than, black. Satiny fabric felt like a second skin to the touch and shimmered in the lighting. Delicate crocheted black lace kept the revealed cleavage from being indecent.
Happy with the choice, she was about to remove the dress but stilled in confusion when Randi shook her head and summoned Gigi.
As if she were a manikin modeling the dress, the two of them orbited with fabric measuring tape. Colluding on the length, they decided it should fall three inches shorter. Miranda also pinched at the bustline, and Marissa uneasily sucked and held the air into her lungs as the pins were pushed into place.
“Can you have it done in two hours?” Randi inquired of Gigi, but her voice was firm and no-nonsense indicating an expectation rather than a request.
The girl congenially bobbed her head. “Of course, Ms. Gavin.”
The entire altercation and alteration procedure left Marissa stunned but not near as stunned as the charge ticket she signed before leaving the store.
Randi donned shades against the bright day, and Marissa wished she could do the same. Her sunglasses had gone missing sometime the previous day during their lengthy cross-country trip. In addition to going blind from the glare of the sun off glass and concrete, she was starving. Unfortunately, she saw no food as they walked several shops down to their next dest
ination.
Randi was well received at the day spa, and after being introduced to Marissa the professionals pandered over her with equal zeal.
After a massage, a manicure, a pedicure, facials, a deep conditioning cleanse of their hair, and much more wine on Randi’s part, they again settled their bill with plastic before stepping out into the bright California sun.
Randi’s personal stylist was on this evening’s schedule to do their face and hair, so for now they wore wet ponytails.
They returned to the boutique for the dress. Marissa met Jeanette who warmly greeted them then presented an array of accessories gathered from the shop that matched or complimented the dress.
Randi was especially vocal over a pair of dangling ruby earrings. Marissa set aside the shoes that currently held her interest to hold the jewelry to her ears. As she beheld the beautiful stones in the mirror, her chest began to crush with the panicked feeling that had been assaulting her these days.
The dress ticket had been well over four figures, the salon trip almost half that, and now these accessories...
“No.” Determinedly, she shook her head in opposition. She wasn’t going to wear jewelry. “The dress doesn’t need it.”
“Mariss...”
Again, she flinched when the other woman used Jack’s personal name for her.
“The dress may not need any more to it, but you do.” When Marissa only stared, clearly confused, Randi explained, “Tonight is your introduction. Into Jack’s world. At his drop party, no less. He would be embarrassed if you were not as glittered up as the rest of us. Not embarrassed of you,” Randi hastened to reword. “Embarrassed of himself.”
Contemplating Randi’s words, Marissa watched through the plate-glass window as the rest of the world went by. Jack should be the one to buy her jewelry when it was charged on his card. Yet, she knew he would if he were here. She had seen how busy he was–probably too busy to think about trivial girl things.
Most irritating was the fact that nothing in this store had tags on it. If you have to ask, you can’t afford. Reluctantly, she moved her chin in a slight nod of acceptance, and with a polite smile, relinquished the rubies to Jeanette. “Just the earrings. Not the bracelet. And please ring it up separate.”
Before Tristan’s surgery, she had used part of Jack’s check to pay off a credit card, clearing it for any expenses related to Tristan’s recovery. It was this card, not Jack’s, which she would use to make the purchase. Technically, when tracing the money back, these earrings would still be still from Jack. However, it felt a little better than outright charging them with the other items for tonight’s outing.
Jeanette balked at separating the set. Reluctantly, at both Randi and the store owner’s insistence, she agreed on a loan of the jewelry and that Jeannette could use any pictures of her wearing it as advertisement.
“It is how things are done,” Randi assured.
“I don’t know…” Marissa faltered over the third question. When she was not wearing the jewelry would it be in a safe? “I don’t even know if Jack has—”
Randi leveled Gigi with a stare, and the young girl quickly thrust the paper to Marissa to sign with no further questions.
Randi was sipping at wine as Marissa slipped on the dress again. The differences a few alterations made were astonishing. The dress was easily the most beautiful thing she had ever worn.
In her euphoria, her steps were light as Jeanette held open the shop door and they exited the store. During the fitting, Jeannette had used a clip to hold Marissa’s wet ponytail up away from the dress. Now, as they walked, Marissa pulled the plastic accessory out so her hair could dry faster.
Randi carried the small bags while Marissa carried the box containing the dress. When the other woman tripped off the curb, Marissa frowned in concern and offered, “Do you want me to drive?”
“Would you?” Randi actually seemed grateful at the idea. Marissa froze. What had she gotten herself into? Driving a fifty-thousand dollar Bimmer in a city she didn’t know? Nevertheless, Randi climbed into the passenger side, and Marissa reluctantly rounded to the driver’s seat.
With Randi coaching, Marissa felt like an imbecile as she fumbled with the mirrors and even with starting the car. Did no automobile in this glittery city use old school ignition keys?
Rolling her tense shoulders, she inhaled and exhaled a few times before pulling into traffic. Randi doled out guidance amidst a string of constant chatter, which, depending on the circumstances today, had been either soothing or nerve grating.
Right now, the sound of Randi’s voice unquestionably kept her on edge.
“...I was seeing this guy for several months, and we broke up this weekend. At first, I thought I was fine with it. It’s hard. You know?”
“Sure.” Numbly nodding, Marissa merged into twelve lanes of traffic. Her tight grip on the wheel slightly relaxed when she was safely flowing along with the rest of the vehicles on what Randi called “the four oh five”.
Relaxing some as she followed the traffic on I-405 North, she absorbed the other woman’s prattling.
“...And what makes me mad is that I put up with the times that he was an ass, because he was so great most of the time. Then, the other night—Here! Exit here!”
The story about Randi’s ex abruptly cut as a ‘quarter-mile exit’ sign came into view. Never mind that there had been several such signs for this particular exit as the miles had narrowed down to this relevant one.
The remaining three lanes of traffic still left to conquer felt impossible when she scanned the bumper to bumper flow. Randi didn’t help the stress level with her next revelation.
“If we miss this exit, we are screwed...!”
“What does that mean?!” Whipping the wheel, Marissa managed to integrate into the next lane and eyed the gaps in the next two.
“If we miss this exit, it will take twenty minutes, one way, or another, to work our way back to where we need to be. Because of the stupid HOV lane construction.”
Marissa viewed the line of cars in the rear view. With a crane of her head, she verified, then again checked the mirror as she eyed the distance to the exit. What she should have done was shrug off the twenty minutes, but two things happened at precisely the same time leading to her unfortunate fate.
A slight gap opened up in the next lane. Randi, who was also craning her neck at this point, prodded, “Can’t you get over?”
Actually, three things happened if she were to count the overshadowing memories of the way this gorgeous, savvy west coast girl had weaved in and out of traffic, on this very interstate, earlier today, while balancing a coffee, and talking non-stop, as if it were nothing.
The first lane change was hairy, but she managed it, and the next one–
The next one came with a sickening crunch of metal, a disorienting shove of the car, a solid punch to her face, and a white shroud. Another slight jolt followed by a glass sound, all to the symphony of horns blaring.
CHAPTER 10
FORTUNATELY, THERE WERE NO real injuries in the three car pileup. The sting of the airbag was nothing compared to her hurt pride.
Until today, she had never wrecked. As the passenger, she had been in a minor scrape with Olivia, and she had once backed into Kel’s four-wheeler. Therefore, the grim experience of accident reports, a citation, wreckers, and other details was new.
They received a ride to the tow shop where they waited for the rental car that Randi’s incredibly competent insurance company was sending over.
In the restroom, they took off their shirts, shaking out the airbag’s white powder before putting them back on. Wetting paper towels, they shared a tiny cracked mirror over the sink and began to clean the residue from their faces and skin.
Randi stepped back to allow Marissa to lean in, and made a joke. “Lucky you, to not have sunglasses on.”
Marissa tossed her third used towel to the already overflowing trash and moved to shake powder from Randi’s hair. In doing so, she
got a closer view of red skid marks down Randi’s nose caused by the airbag colliding with sunglasses.
“It’s not something a little makeup won’t cover,” Randi winked. Marissa marveled that Randi could remain so carefree through this ordeal.
Having apologized several times over, she still felt terrible. “I’m so sorry. I’m really not a bad driver. I just—I wouldn’t have even driven your car if it hadn’t been for the wine...”
“The wine?”
Mortified at bringing up the other woman’s inebriated state before the shock of the collision must have surely sobered her, Marissa gulped and picked at her freshly manicured nails.
“Did you think I was drunk?” Randi’s inquiry rode on a voice laden with surprise.
Keeping her eyes on her fingers, Marissa shifted a foot tracing a line in the tile floor.
“Is that why you wanted to drive?” Bursting into a high-pitched laugh, Randi rocked back on her heels, and Marissa’s gaze finally riveted to her face.
“You fell off the curb,” Marissa defended her assumption. With her own eyes, she had seen Randi down six to eight glasses of wine in their time at the boutique and the salon.
“Yes, I fell,” Randi stressed the verb. Then, to Marissa’s chagrin, Randi set her straight as they traversed from the restroom back to the main area of the building. “The only wine I drank was at the dress shop. The salon serves sparkling cider. Well, they serve wine too, but I had the cider. It’s fresh from a vineyard around here. So yummy, and so good for your complexion–that’s why I was trying to force some on you. You didn’t have any because you thought it was wine?”
“You think I need something for my complexion?”
Randi’s expression relaxed from incredulous mirth to sympathy, and her reply was tactful. “You have a chalky kind of thing going on. A lot of stress is what I’m guessing. But my stylist can make it go away.”
“Flight reservations back to Mississippi?” Unable to stop herself, Marissa made the mutter.
