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"Upstairs."
Laurel shakes her head. "No good." She yells toward the upstairs. "Damon. Can you hear me? Bring the mirror you use to watch yourself have sex. I need as much surface area as possible. And as many angles. If you have two or three mirrors, I want all of them."
"Subtle," I say.
She smiles with pure Laurel energy. That sort of work hard, play harder, and look great doing it smile.
She does. She's wearing a hip mini-dress in a gorgeous shade of red, heeled sandals, and subtle silver jewelry. She looks like the stylish, creative, fun-loving woman she is.
"Thank you for saving me, Laurel." She motions this is what you should say. "You are the most fashionable person I know. Without you, I would have to show up at this big, Hollywood party in a pair of jeans and combat boots."
"Combat boots are my signature."
She continues mocking me, "Yes, I know, I am so uncool I think Doc Martens are still hip. I love rocking a tired, boring look."
"Doc Martens are classic."
She shakes her head it's so sad you think that's true and continues her Cassie impression. "Thank goodness you're here with trendy stuff that isn't even available to the public. I get to be the only girl with a new dress from Riot."
I won't be the only woman at the party in a not-yet-available-to-the-public dress, but I will be the only one with a look from her company, and her company is the new Reformation. They define eco-friendly, cool girl style. Plus, she dropped her plans to help me. I should thank her. Even if she was fashionably late. "Thanks, Laurel."
"You're welcome." She beams in that radiant Laurel like way. "I'll even come with you to fix your makeup."
"You weren't invited," I say.
She shrugs. An invitation is not something she considers necessary. She has Dad's mix of charisma and endless confidence. She's sure everyone wants her at the party (and she's right). "Are you taking a limo or driving?"
Why would we take a limo? The party is in the Hollywood Hills. That's not far but it's not close either. "No."
"Are you the DD then?"
We haven't talked about that, actually. "You're crashing. You can be the designated driver."
She laughs. "Really, Cass?"
Yeah, that's like asking Damon to skip drinks. Only I haven't seen Damon drink once.
Is he better at hiding it now? Maybe he waits until he's home. Maybe he stops at a bar on the way home. I don't know. And it's not my concern.
We're not really lovers. We're collaborators. That's all.
"I'll drive." I'm willing to compromise. I'm not willing to concede. "If I have too many, we'll take a rideshare back, and we can fetch the car together tomorrow."
"Only if you buy the coffee in the morning," she says.
A good deal. I offer my hand. When she shakes, I snap back to my mission. "Make me beautiful."
She smiles. "Happy to oblige." She shifts into work mode as she looks me up and down.
It's odd seeing my little sister all serious and responsible. Odder, watching her examine me like I'm a celebrity client she needs to dress. She works at this clothing company full time and styles on the side. "Oooh, I see it. Off. Everything except shoes."
"Underwear too?" Maybe ordering people out of their clothes is normal for her. It is not normal for me.
"If you must, okay. But no bra. Do you have heels?"
"Only the shoes I wore last night."
"Let me guess. Boots?" she asks.
"What do you have against boots?"
"Not the Danskos, Cassie." When I don't answer, she shakes her head how could you commit this crime against style? "Do you want to look like a teacher or a nurse?"
"I want to look like a person in comfortable shoes."
"Comfort isn't sexy! Don't be stupid. That's like saying you want to write a pop song that makes people think. It's just not how it is."
That's not totally right, but I understand her point. Pretending you have no physical needs is sexy. High heels and push-up bras and sex in the shower without silicon-based lube.
I played that role so many times.
Now…
I don't know. At least I'm smart enough to not attempt sex in water. Seriously, who convinced people that fully submerged sex is hot?
It's not. It's the worst. All that liquid and it's so fucking dry.
Has Damon ever had sex in a pool? In that pool.
The image fills my head immediately. The two of us, stripping out of our clothes to skinny dip, meeting in the middle of the water, kissing and touching and—
"Cassie. Off!" Laurel doesn't notice my mind drifting to dirty places. Only that it's drifting. "Now." She pulls an orange-red dress from the rack and sets it on the couch. "Put this on. I have some shoes in the car. You're a size nine, right?"
I nod.
"I can work with that." She motions to the long sheath and skips to the door.
