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“I bought them all on eBay. I’m pretty sure they’re either fake or stolen, but since I paid less than three hundred dollars for each pair, I don’t care.” She might compromise on her clothes, but the shoes were all Harmony. “My mother wants me to be Ann Taylor and I thought I was Harley Quinn, but I don’t know anymore. I like lace short shorts, but I’m not sure they’re who I am. I don’t know what to do. Dalton told me that he loved me, but then he told me to tone it down for the interview today.” She honestly didn’t know what to do.
“Do you love him?” Tre led her to the bed, carefully moved a blood-red dress over, and sat her down.
“I think so. Unfortunately.” With the sleeve of her robe, she wiped her face.
“Listen, sweet cheeks, I know a little something about not fitting in. I’m a gay man who grew up in Gilmer, Texas, population five thousand. I played the straight guy until I didn’t recognize myself. I hated everything about me. My senior year in high school, I met a man.”
“Your first lover?” Harmony knew how it felt to look in the mirror and not see the person you really were.
“No, far from it. He was gay though.” Tre turned sad and serious. “He had end-stage lung cancer. I volunteered at the hospital …” He laughed. “I had this crazy idea that because my father was a doctor, I needed to be one too.” He wiped the tears from his own eyes. “Anyway, Charles had been a loving husband to his wife of more than twenty years. They had four daughters. But, he was gay. He said, ‘I always thought there was time to be true to myself. I always said one day I would do this or one day I would do that. One day … one day … but I’m out of one days, and I don’t think I’ve ever been truly happy. Don’t let life pass you by because you’re waiting for one day.’ He was right. I went home, told my parents I was gay, and I haven’t looked back since. Has it been easy? No, but I’m living my truth. You need to be true to yourself.” He smiled sadly up at her. “To thine own self be true. The real you is fantastic and funny and fabulous. Don’t get confused.”
He was right—she knew he was right—but she’d been wearing a mask so that people would love her for so long that it was frightening to take it off. “You’re right, I know it.”
“You don’t have to decide about the rest of your life right now. All I need you to do is pick out something to wear. We’re running out of time, and I need at least forty-five minutes to turn you from a pumpkin into Cinderella.” He snapped his fingers. “Let’s get a move on.”
It wasn’t what she wanted to hear, but it was exactly what she needed to hear. Tre was just the right amount of bitchy to get her moving.
“I’m wearing the black crop top and skater skirt,” she said firmly. It felt the most like who she was inside, and she would start living her truth one outfit at a time. “But I think the black lace-up Loubies are too much for prime-time TV. Let’s go with the floral ones. The black background ties everything together, but the neon flowers are the right pop of color. What do you think?”
“I think we’re finally dressing for your inner Harmony. I love it. Now for hair and makeup.” He headed for the bathroom.
Five hours later, she was seriously rethinking her inner Harmony as the Wake Up Fort Worth executive producer continued to yell at her in the greenroom—which was a sickly eggshell and not green at all, much to her disappointment.
“We are a family-friendly TV show. Do you know what you’ve done?” His name might have been Les or Brett. Harmony couldn’t remember.
“Don’t be an ass.” Tre stepped between her and Les/Brett. “All she did was uncross and cross her legs.”
“I didn’t realize that when I sat down, my skirt would be so short.” The outfit was cute and totally her, but there was no way around it. She’d had a serious wardrobe malfunction on live TV.
“Are you going to claim you didn’t know you weren’t wearing any underwear? Putting on underwear is a choice. One you should make every single day of your life.” Les/Brett’s face was turning a deep shade of purple. That couldn’t be good.
“I did have underwear on, but right before the last segment, one of the straps holding it on broke. It’s not like I could sew it back together.” If she hadn’t taken them off, they would have ended up around her knees. She’d made it through most of the segments with underwear on. Didn’t that count for something?
“Back off.” Lyric stepped into Les/Brett’s personal space. “She didn’t do it on purpose. I don’t see what’s so wrong. So what if she showed her vagina? Every second person in the world has one. Get over it.”
Harmony took a step back. Usually she was the one standing up for Lyric, not the other way around. But she’d be lying if she said it didn’t feel good to have Lyric in her corner. Plus, defiance looked good on her. Clearly, being married to Heath was doing her some good—and not just in the sex-life department. Not that Harmony had any intention of ever telling him that.
“What’s wrong?” The producer’s voice was at a screechy level that only dogs should be able to hear. “We can’t even say the word vagina on morning TV, much less show one to our viewing public. This is a disaster. The network is talking about pulling our show.”
Tre shot Les/Brett a glare that should have singed the producer’s hair plugs. “That’s it. We’re going.” He stabbed an index finger at the producer’s chest. “You’re no longer invited to my monthly dinner party, and you’re off my Christmas card list. You are dead to me.”
Tre put his arms around Harmony’s and Lyric’s waists and walked them out.
Once they were back in Cherry Cherry, Harmony sighed in relief. “Well, that sorta went well.”
“At least the world at large now knows there are two of you.” Tre closed the passenger’s-side door. “Mission accomplished.”
“How can you say that?” Harmony didn’t know what to do next. What if her wardrobe issue cost her the Food Network show? Dalton had been right; she should have toned it down. At least then she wouldn’t have pulled a Sharon Stone in Basic Instinct on live TV.
“Didn’t Food Network want a badass baker? Hello, they just got what will become national and possibly international free publicity.” Tre sounded very satisfied with himself.
“Did you sabotage my panties?” Harmony knew Tre meant well, but his methods were another thing entirely.
“Trust me, Super Girl, I’ve never done anything with a woman’s panties in my life, except admire them on a shelf from afar.” Tre poked his head between the seats. “I’m a glass-is-overflowing kinda guy. The bright side is free publicity, which I’m afraid is also a downside.”
“No, no … I think he has a point.” Lyric turned over the engine and for once, Cherry Cherry didn’t protest having Harmony in the car. “You’re getting your name out there.”
