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But Saturday did come and it brought on the primping. Cara and Kathryn were old friends by now and Lizabeth dropped over to see the dress. She had a good camera and offered to shoot images that Cara could use to promote her dressmaking.
Skin scraped, buffed, polished and made-up, hair shining, curled and piled on her head in an elegant twist, Zarley stood in Kathryn’s living room in a thong arguing with Cara.
“No underwear,” Cara said.
The dress was a sheath, fitted like a second skin, a nude-colored silk with a net overlay, embroidered with red petals, green leaves and crystals, held up by magic and angel hair thin straps. It was forest nymph meets sex goddess. Reid’s eyes were going to bug out of his head when he saw her.
“It’s tiny, it’ll be fine.” She clipped a crystal earring borrowed from Kathryn’s gran onto her ear and shook her head.
“Off.” Cara said. She had two pins in her mouth. Not because she needed to adjust anything, because she was almost sick with nerves.
“Off.” Kathryn echoed.
Lizabeth looked up from fiddling with her camera and made a throat cutting movement.
“Shouldn’t you both be at work,” Zarley shot back. They were making her nervous. She put the second earring on and shook her head, letting the crystal drops bounce against her neck.
“As soon as you get your naked ass in that dress, we’re out,” Kathryn said.
She went back to the bedroom and ditched the thong. Slipped the dress carefully over her head, making sure it didn’t catch on hairpins, the earrings, or brush against her makeup. It swished down her body, molding to her absolutely everywhere. Yes, you would’ve seen the outline of the thong. Next came shoes. The only real expense she’d had. The same nude color, a classic slim high heel with a pointed toe, gleefully bought on sale.
“Hurry up,” Kathryn called.
But she needed a minute. This was a big night for Reid, all his old colleagues, stockholders and bigwigs in his industry. He’d be networking. She had to pull off professional date. Not something she’d ever attempted before. It had a difficulty of ten. She was feeling about eight point five.
She took a breath and walked into the other room.
“Wow. You look. Wow. That is going to glue Back Booth’s tongue to his teeth,” said Kathryn. She flung her arms around Cara. “You’re a genius.”
Cara suffered the hug. “It’s the fabric.”
“It’s the body.” Lizabeth took a shot. “Hot, hot, hot, but trés chic as well, babe.”
Yes, there was nothing trashy about this dress. Nothing with the stink of failed gymnast or slutty pole dancer about it. Her hands went to her thighs. “Oh my God. I’m so nervous.”
The three other women gawped at her while she stood where Lizabeth pointed.
Cara took the pins from her mouth and stabbed them into a pincushion she wore on her wrist. “You nervous?”
“You never get stage fright,” said Kathryn.
“But this.” Lizabeth stalked around her, camera to her face. “This is a big deal.”
“And I’m just an ornament.”
Lizabeth waved a hand, and Zarley struck a pose for a shot. “What do you mean, hon?”
“My only function is to look good and not embarrass Reid by picking my nose at the table or falling over drunk. That’s simply weird.”
“You sure look good. Say cheese.” Lizabeth clicked and kept clicking.
“But I’m set dressing. I’m usually the main event.” It wasn’t a boast and no one took it that way, it was her reality. She was used to eyes on her, but not for simply looking good, for having talent. Even the drunks at the bar who lusted after her body got hung up on what it could do.
“You’re the main event for Reid,” said Cara.
“Turn side on,” said Lizabeth.
Zarley followed Lizabeth’s stage directions. Cara hadn’t warmed to Reid. His manner made her anxious and she responded by being prickly. Part of her resented the ease with which he could afford the kind of fabrics she coveted to work with. And since the fire, her limp had been worse. Sleeping on a rollout bed wasn’t good for her.
