I’m wearing the little black dress Jeffrey gave me for my birthday last year. It’s one of fashion designer Chaz’s creations. I never told him that it was one size too small—maybe a couple?—and I couldn’t get my fat ass into it. Now, for the first time it fits me perfectly. The tight strapless sheath hugs me in all the right places, bringing out my curves and cleavage. The six-inch black patent stilettos on my feet make my shapely legs look a lot longer. I almost feel like a supermodel—well, maybe one of those plus-size ones. I quickly gather my hair into a messy bun, sticking in a few bobby pins to hold it in place, and add a pair of cubic zirconia studs to my ears. The earrings sparkle like three-carat diamonds. No one will know they’re fakes I picked up at T.J. Maxx for under ten bucks.
I glance down at my watch, my other piece of jewelry. It’s a dressy thin-band one that also belonged to Mama. A gift from Papa. It’s seven forty-five. Jeffrey should be here any minute to pick me up. He’s arranged for a group of us to go out to a very expensive, chic restaurant—Fig & Olive. Because of my concussion, he didn’t want me to drive. I told him I would do Lip Service, the latest Uber-like car service, but he was insistent on coming over.
My cell phone rings. Sure enough, it’s Jeffrey.
“I’m here.”
“Great. I’ll open the gate.” I quickly grab my treasured black clutch and head to the front door. Goddamn f*ck
ing shoes. I can barely walk in them—or the body hugging dress. Beauty is not just pain; it’s a f*ck
ing pain in the ass. Before I leave, I hit a button on a pad by the door to open the electronic gate so Jeffrey can pull in.
The trek through Brandon’s backyard is no picnic either. These insane heels are so hard to walk in; I’m not used to wearing them. My ankles keep buckling. It’s a shame my klutzy walk doesn’t match my sexy attire. I almost trip three times. Once so close to the pool, I almost fall in. Thank God, I know how to swim now.
My walk of death to the driveway feels like an eternity. When I finally get there, Jeffrey’s silver Mercedes convertible is parked outside. The top is down. My breath catches. He’s standing next to it…and so is Brandon. Oh, Jeez. I wasn’t expecting this.
Managing to stroll up to them as gracefully as I can, I immediately throw my arms around Jeffrey and give him a kiss. Wearing a stylish slim suit and his hair slicked back, he looks movie star handsome. He and Eddy Redmayne could have been separated at birth.
“Hi, babykins,” I say, breaking away. It’s time to put those acting skills back into play. I mentally pray: Please, Jeffrey, play along. Just to be sure, I clasp his hand and dig a heel into his foot.
“Ow.”
I quickly turn to a puzzled Brandon and plaster a big smile on my face. “Brandon, you remember my boyfriend, Jeffrey.” I put special emphasis on the word “boyfriend.”
Brandon’s face is pinched. Narrowing his eyes, he gives Jeffrey the once over. “Yeah, sure.”
“Good to see you, again.” Jeffrey extends his hand.
With reluctance, Brandon shakes it, and I silently sigh with relief. Jeffrey’s gotten the hint. I turn to Brandon and melt at the sight of him. He looks hot as shit—barefoot in a relaxed V-neck T-shirt that shows off his biceps and low-slung gray sweats that subtly enunciate his breathtaking endowment.
“What are you doing out here?” I don’t know why I’m making conversation with him. The sooner I get out of here the better. I’m heating up.
“I heard the gate open and then saw a car drive in on my surveillance monitor. I wasn’t expecting company so I stepped outside. Why didn’t you tell me your boyfriend was coming by?”
An angry tone accompanies his question.
“I told you I had a date.” ass*ole
.
His eyes rake over my body. I swear he’s mentally undressing me.
“You’re very dressed up.”
You could say I look nice!
“Are you going somewhere special?”
Jeffrey chimes in before I can respond. “Yes, Fig & Olive.”
Shit. I wish Jeffrey hadn’t told him where we’re going. Too late now.
Brandon knits his brows. “Hmm. That’s a very expensive restaurant.”
He can afford it, jerk! Remember, I told you he was rich.
Smiling his own dazzling smile, Jeffrey replies. “It’s a special occasion.”
A mixture of curiosity and suspicion sweeps over Brandon. “What are you celebrating?” The tone of his voice is confrontational, as if he has the right to know everything about my personal life.
Jeffrey’s smile turns mischievous. “It’s a surprise.”
“Oh.” Brandon’s voice is small, almost deflated.
I turn to Jeffrey and brush his clean-shaven jaw. “Sweetie, we should get going. We don’t want to lose our reservation.”
“Agree.” After saying goodnight to vexed Brandon, he opens the passenger door and I slide into the convertible. I catch Brandon’s eyes on my very exposed thighs before Jeffrey closes the door and hops behind the wheel.
On my next breath, Jeffrey turns the car around and motors toward the gate. Via the side mirror, I can see Brandon heading back into his house. An unexpected forlornness washes over me. I should be excited about going out for a fun evening with Jeffrey. But the truth is I’d rather be home, curled up on a couch, watching Kurt Kussler episodes with the man of my dreams.