AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“I guess so.”
Dad outdid himself this time.
“You’re wearing Sue Li to a bloody royal ball,” Celeste tells me, exasperated.
I might be fashion averse (according to her brother), but even I’ve heard of Sue Li. This designer has dressed everyone from Lady Gaga to Harry Styles to costumes for the Royal Opera House. A legit big deal.
Celeste sighs. “You realize I hate you, right?”
“If I let you borrow the dress, can we still be friends?”
With narrowed eyes, she speaks through her teeth. “Get the shoes too and I’ll consider it.”
The lobby is a loud, frenzied expression of colors and patterns reminiscent of the eclectic contrasting styles Sue Li is known for. Always toeing that line between genius and disaster. Chaos soup on fine china.
“Welcome.” We’re greeted by a towering woman who’s close to seven feet even in flats, with neon green eyeshadow and a buzz cut. She looks between Celeste and me. “Abbey?”
“Nice to meet you,” I say, feeling downright minuscule. “This is my friend Celeste.”
“I’m Mori. I hear you need a dress.”
“I do, but I have no idea what’s appropriate. I’ve never done something like this before.”
“Someone got herself invited to Alexandra’s prewedding festivities,” Celeste says with lingering venom.
“Sue filled us in.” Mori gestures for us to follow her from the lobby toward a narrow staircase.
Upstairs, we’re led to a wide-open space where mirrors and clothing racks line the white walls of painted brick.
“We’ve taken the liberty of selecting a few garments,” Mori tell me.
Celeste and I are treated to champagne while two more assistants wheel out a rack of gowns in front of a dressing pedestal.
“We have a changing curtain,” Mori says. “Or if you’re not shy…”
This is why I at least had the good sense to put on matching bra and underwear.
“Lay it on me,” I say, trying to pull off something akin to cool indifference. Because I totally belong and am no way in over my head with all this fancy shit.
“You’re making the society pages now for sure,” Celeste informsme as I get undressed and leave my clothes beside her on the velvet settee. “So much for a low profile.”
“Think a veil is too much? Brits enjoy an audacious hat, right?”
“Not for evening,” Mori’s male assistant says sharply, unzipping the first dress from its hanger.
“No, yeah. It was a joke.” Or I thought it was.
“Funny,” he says, with a pained attempt at a smile that can’t quite graduate from a sarcastic cringe. My humor is clearly lost on him. Which is awesome because now this dude is going to the pub later to tell the other fashion assistants about the gauche American.
Cool people don’t get me.
The first dress is an architectural green number with asymmetrical polka dots hidden in the pleats of the skirt. With my hair, green is always the first place people go. And it’s lovely, especially since it’s the same shade of sea green as my eyes. But…
“It’s eating you alive,” Celeste says, her head cocked in the mirror, studying me.
“Right? If I was a foot taller, maybe.” I turn, peering at myself over my shoulder to get a view of the back. “Not sure short people can pull off this much look.”
Mori is still evaluating, pulling and tucking, when my phone rings on the settee next to Celeste. She seesDadon the screen and hands it to me. His face pops up as I answer the FaceTime call.
