Maxim: What happened?
Maxim: Why did you just climb a STATUE and put a traffic cone on its head?!
Victoria: I had to take a selfie on top of the horse fml.
Victoria: I’m too mature for this dumb shit
Victoria: Jesus Christ
Victoria: Right, I’m going back to bed
Maxim: Take my SUV
Victoria: Will do, Mr. Possessive
Maxim: Will this be a repeat occurrence?
Victoria: Probably. Wynter told me they asked her to get a hoagie from this dive in Jersey.
Maxim: Use your guards. That’s what they’re there for
Victoria: Will do Night xo
Maxim: Night, pchelka
NINETEEN
DOES HE THINK I’M A GRANDMA?
I stareat the dress and wrinkle my nose.
“What is it?” Shay glances up from his textbook. “Box that size has to be a dress.”
“Does he think I’m in my forties or something?”
Shay pops his head over my shoulder. “Mom’s in her forties. She wouldn’t wear that.”
“Rightfully so.”
“Huh, what’s that?” Wynter asks as she strolls into the living room, a bowl of chips in her hands.
“A dress. A bad one.”
“It’s notthatbad,” Shay excuses, but he backs away like a smart man when I glare at him.
“This must be a joke. The first time I’ll be on his arm ineverand he wants me to dress like Sister Mary Clarence?! At a gala?! That will be covered by the press?!”
Wynter and Shay share a look, but she sets her bowl of chips onto the coffee table and pulls the folds of fabric out so we can get a better look.
But “better” is relative.
I gape at it in horror. “Sister Mary Clarence showed more skin in her habit!”
“Not when she was a singer though,” Wynter teases. “It’s not that bad. Just very conservative.”
“I won’t wear it.” I snag my phone and hit his number. When hedoesn’t immediately answer, I take a picture of the dress and send it to him.
Me: WHAT IS THIS?
