As they wandered through the racks and the shelves, Rachel told Dagne about the party, about Mike, and then Flynn showing up, and about the blonde, and giving Mike her number after the party was over, then freeing the cat (which Dagne got very excited about, insisting that freeing a “sister” would bring her good karma), and running into Flynn again—literally.
“Ran into him, nothing. He came back for you,” Dagne said with much assurance. “He’s totally into you.”
“He didn’t come back for me,” Rachel argued, but as she picked up a dark red velvet jacket and held it up to her body to check it out in the mirror, she wondered if he had.
“Try this,” Dagne said, handing Rachel a cobalt blue dress that hit right above her knees.
“This is gorgeous,” Rachel said as she held it up to her body and looked at herself in the mirror.
“That’s a great color on you,” Dagne said as she wandered away. “Try it on.”
It was a great color for her, but first—Rachel checked the tag and almost gagged when she saw the price of $450 dangling daintily from the sleeve. She hung it back on the rack.
“So he comes back for you, takes you to his apartment, and then what?” Dagne asked.
Rachel gave her a wink. “He cleaned up the cat scratches,” she said, showing Dagne the back of her hands. “And then he kissed me.”
“And?”
“And . . . it was fabulous.”
“So did you guys . . . ?”
Rachel’s smile faded. “No.” She was still disappointed about that.
“No? It’s that British thing, I’m telling you!” Dagne said with a disgusted shake of her head.
“Oh no. He was more than ready. Nothing happened because Myron called me on my cell and completely destroyed the moment.”
Dagne’s eyes rounded. Then narrowed. “What is with that guy?”
“He’s an idiot,” Rachel said, trying on a hat.
“Never mind him. When you go out this week, you’ll get lucky,” she said, nudging Rachel.
Rachel looked at the cobalt blue dress again. “I really like this guy, Dagne. He is so hot, and he’s funny, and he’s nice, and he’s got this fabulous accent . . . but I don’t think it’s really a good idea,” Rachel said. “He’s only here temporarily—”
“Right, which is all the more reason to go and have a good time,” Dagne interjected. “No strings attached.” She picked up a sheer gold blouse and held it up to her.
“All the more reason not to get involved at all,” Rachel corrected her. “I could really fall for this guy, so what’s the point? I’m not into casual sex.”
“Okay. What if he’s here for three months? That’s not so temporary. You could be missing a really great life experience. You know how I feel about life experiences—”
“Yes, yes,” Rachel said, cutting her off before she launched into her theory that life experiences carried over into your next life and gave you firmer footing in whatever you turned out to be. It was a sort of mystical theory that Rachel didn’t fully understand, but she was not foolish enough to admit that because Dagne would want to make her understand.
“But look at it the other way. What if he’s here for three months?” Rachel asked. “I can’t even pay the utility bill. The last thing I need is to get involved with someone and burden them with all that. Besides, I have to finish my dissertation.”
Either Dagne had something in her eye, or she was rolling her eyes at that one. “So you’re going to deny yourself life because you’re a little short on cash and you’re in school? Who knows where this might lead? And if doesn’t lead anywhere, then at least you get laid. When is the last time you had sex, anyway?”
“I think he’s involved with someone.”
“So?”
“So?” Rachel echoed.
“And now you’re going to be his conscience?”
Rachel turned away, looked at sweaters and jackets, refusing to debate the issue further. But Dagne was not finished. She shoved in front of Rachel, holding the blue dress. “This is the one you want. With those killer boots you have, you will be drop-dead.”
Rachel looked longingly at the dress again, shaking her head. “I can’t afford it,” she said, but took it from Dagne and went behind a curtain to try it on.
“Yes, you can. You have a credit card!” Dagne’s disembodied voice reminded her.
“My maxed credit card,” Rachel muttered. She emerged a few moments later. “And I don’t have any jewelry to wear with it,” she added as she flung open the curtain and stalked to the mirror to have a look. Oh God, she looked . . . hot. Not fat. Not big-boned. Sort of curvy and . . . hot.
“You don’t have jewelry, but I do. I got something off eBay that’s perfect for this. You’ll love it,” Dagne said, standing behind Rachel.
“I can’t afford it,” Rachel said again as she turned every which way, checking it out. Damn, even her butt looked good.
“Charge it. And don’t worry about the money. I’m working that out.”
Rachel laughed at Dagne’s reflection in the mirror. “What do you mean? Are you casting a spell for a money tree?”
“Maybe,” she grinned. “You’ll see later.”