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Also, Hannah was right. Sabine would be super cool about the red carpet and anyone they had to interact with. She was probably better suited for that size of an event than even Max.
Okay… okay.
He bent over and retrieved his phone. He called up their last text exchange and smiled. It was a terrible joke about Spaceballs.
She was the best.
DAVE: mom bailed. Are you busy on Saturday?
He looked up at Hannah and tried to ignore how he could feel his pulse in his fingertips.
“She might have to work,” he said, thinking out loud. “She works weekends at this nerd bar. She might not want to miss out on tips. Not for something like this.”
Hannah didn’t look convinced.
His phone pinged.
SABINE: I’m free on Saturday
“She said she’s free on Saturday.” He exchanged a smile with Hannah.
“Who’s dressing you?” Hannah asked.
“Catherine is meeting me at Leslie’s.”
Catherine always dressed him. She was a costume designer in Hollywood, and she was the only one who he trusted to not make him look like someone he wasn’t. She dressed him for big events, photo shoots, music videos—all of it.
“You need to let her know she needs to bring something for Sabine.”
“You think?”
“I do think. And I think you need to give Sabine’s number to Catherine so she can get her measurements.”
Dave frowned at Hannah. He understood what she was saying but it didn’t make sense. Not really.
“Won’t Sabine want to wear her own clothes?”
Hannah pressed the fingertips of one hand to her forehead while crossing her chest with her other arm. “Oh, sweet motherfucking shit balls,” she muttered. And then directly to him she said, “Please trust me on this. Provide a dress for her. Shoes, jewelry, hair, makeup—all of it.”
“Okay,” he agreed, alarmed by Hannah’s reaction. “I can do that.”
“Do you have an assistant?” she asked. She dropped her hand from her forehead to cup her opposite elbow.
“Sometimes,” he admitted. “But I drive them crazy and they usually quit after a couple weeks.”
“You don’t say.” Hannah took a deep breath and forced a smile. “It’s gonna be fine. I’ll walk you through it.”
CHAPTERFIFTEEN
HOMEMADE DYNAMITE
SABINE
It’s not a date, it’s not a date, it’s not a date.
She reminded herself a thousand times as she stared at the perfume on her dresser.
She wanted to smell good.
