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“Yes. Via the house.” I looked at him clueless, and he looked right back at me, looked at the holes in my jeans. “What clothes do you have for the office? How many suits?”
I pretended to think about it, wondering if the old navy jacket in my wardrobe would still fit. “I have some blouses… a skirt or two… the trousers I waitress in…”
“Then we’re going to town. We’ll pick Rick up on the way.”
I couldn’t help but giggle. “You want to take me shopping? Like something fromPretty Woman?” He didn’t laugh. “What are you going to do? Send me into one of those snooty boutiques with a handful of used banknotes?” I practised my Julia Roberts impression. “Big mistake. Big.”
That made him smile, just a little. “You need to dress the part to feel the part, Katie.”
I can’t say it was a sentiment I’d ever really bought into.
We pulled up outside the house and Rick was waiting ready to jump into the back seat. “Hey, pretty lady.” He ruffled my hair over the headrest. “Gonna get you all dolled up. Good job I’m coming as lead stylist.”
“Keep telling yourself that, Rick,” Carl said. “We want corporate, nottrendy.”
“Trendy corporate,” Rick said. “We don’t want her looking like some power bitch from the 90s. Urgh. No.”
“Iwant her looking like she’s a serious sales candidate. No fucking polka dot, Rick. No neon-coloured beads and vintage cut-offs. I fucking mean it.”
“Ruin all the fun, why don’t you?” But Rick’s tone was light. It made me smile.
“I can shop for my own clothes,” I said. “You don’t need to do this.”
“I know,” Carl said, but he kept on driving.
The boutique made me more nervous than the office. Super pristine sales assistants in fancy little suits, and me, looking like I’d been dragged through a hedge backwards and then some. They had bright white smiles, but their eyes were cold, weighing me up and finding me lacking. I could feel it.
The guys seemed oblivious.
Carl took my hand in his and practically handed me over to a woman called Greta, and Greta led us through to the display rails, but spoke with Carl and not me, flashing him the doe eyes.
“You’re looking for daytime corporate or client-facing corporate?”
“Both.”
“Traditional or modern?”
“Whatever Katie likes.”
“And what kind of budget do you have in mind, sir?”
Rick laughed, guffawed a few steps behind.
Carl handed her his card. “Whatever it takes.”
I could’ve died, not least when I caught sight of a price tag on one of the jackets.
I leaned into him, pulled a face. “You don’t need to do this.”
His brows pitted. “I’m quite aware of that.”
Greta started pulling things from the racks, but Carl wasn’t watching. He was too busy staring at mannequins, rooting through rails on his own little quest. Rick leaned against a mirror, checking out flouncy accessories, and I just stood, like an idiot, my arms folded over the stupid slogan on my chest.
That smiley woman was staring at me, her eyes slightly squinty. “Thirty-four, twenty-six, thirty-six?”
“Thirty-six, twenty-six, thirty-eight.”
“Thirty-eight, right.” She walked around me. “Horse riding?”
