She looked startled. “What?”
“Seven. As in, I’ll pick you up tomorrow at seven. Will you be here or do you have your own place?”
She glanced around her parents’ backyard, obviously stunned. And then she stammered out her answer.
“I, uh, I live in Indianapolis. I’m just visiting for the barbecue.”
“So here, then.”
“B-but you don’t have—”
“Seven. And no good-night kiss.” Because if I kept my hands to myself, maybe I’d manage to get through it. And maybe she’d be disillusioned enough to walk way, not expecting anything more.
Ha! Unfortunately, that was the one thing good girls always expected: more. Too bad I didn’t have anything to give.
Chapter Three
Ellie
“He wasn’t supposed to say yes!” I complained to my sister for the thousandth time. “So no, I didn’t bring a dress.”
“Wear this.” She grabbed a gown and pushed it at me. We were at her apartment in the city, in a swanky loft that was too hot in the summer but allowed my sister to have racks of clothes all along the brick wall. She held up the miles of fabric and all I saw were dark red sequins and a plunging neckline.
“I can’t wear that.”
“So let’s go shopping.”
“I can’t afford that.”
My sister huffed out a breath. “They’re on the seventh-inning stretch.” She gestured at the radio, which was giving a swing-by-swing commentary. Although right now, it was playing an advertisement for truck covers. “You’ve got to wear something nice. He’s coming in a limo.”
“He’s what?” I gasped, and then Rachel flushed bright pink.
“I wasn’t supposed to tell you that.” Then she shrugged. “You told him you wanted an old-fashioned date, right? For him to pick you up at the house, then take you out to a fancy dinner.”
“I didn’t say anything about a limo,” I cried. I’d never been in a limo in my life. Not even for prom.
“Well, maybe he won’t. I mean, just because I overheard Connor telling him he better pull out all the stops for you…”
“Oh my God.” I already had two older brothers. I did not need an older, overprotective cousin, too.
“Which brings us back to the question of what you’re going to wear.” She tried to shove the sequined sheath at me again and I batted it away.
“Why do you have a ball gown, anyway?”
“Because I’m a radio personality. I never know where I’m going to be sent. I’ve been to balls, political parties, fundraisers—all kinds of stuff.” Then she winked. “Besides, I got it cheap from a cross-dresser I know who’s decided to hang up his sparkles and settle down. He’s getting married and there’s a baby on the way.”
I blinked. “You know the most interesting people.” The only ones I knew were sick, struggling with diabetes or heart disease or some other potentially devastating illness. Sure they had interesting lives, but none that involved sparkly gowns. At least, not when I saw them.
“And now you’re going to get to know Jake Armstrong.” She spun me around and tugged at my T-shirt. “Strip. You don’t have much time.”
“I’m not wearing that.” I started to flip through the dresses on the nearest rack. There was no organization, of course. Dresses hung next to sweatpants, next to assorted belts and scarves. I held up a pink paisley cravat and arched my brow. “Do I want to ask?”
“Halloween. I went as a dominatrix. Pink tie in one hand, bullwhip in the other.”
I tried to picture it. Thing is, I could. Rachel loved to dress up in all sorts of wild clothing. Me, I just wanted leggings and an oversize tee. When I wasn’t wearing scrubs, that is.
I dropped the tie and searched for anything of hers I could wear. I finally came up with a simple black sheath. That would work, right? It was formal, could be classed up with my simple gold hoop earrings, and the neckline barely plunged at all.
