I take a deep breath, standing to zip the dress the rest of the way. I open the door’s latch and step out of the stall.
Shelby’s standing in the entryway between the dressing room hall and the boutique, wearing one of the other black dresses she had taken off the rack, a V-neck halter top and mini skirt sewn into a lacy overlay. She claps her hands together when she sees me. “Oh my God, Cassie. It’s killer.”
I give a small smile, which deflates her big grin a little. “You okay?” she says. “You look like you just saw a ghost.”
Heard one is more like it.
I widen my smile hoping maybe the physical act of seeming happy will dissolve—or at least hide—whatever uncertainty Sebastian’s phone call has provoked. “I just haven’t gotten this dressed up in a while,” I say, fidgeting with the high hem of the dress. “I guess I feel a little out of my comfort zone.”
“Well, you look like you’ll fit right in,” she says. She guides me to the threeway mirror where for the first time I see myself in the dress, in triplicate, no less. The front of the dress hugs me just right, the top curving around my boobs, shapely without being too tight, but the back is what makes it special: a straight, thin strip of fabric runs from the neck to the top of my butt, intersecting with a strip crossing just beneath my shoulder blades, like a low cross.
Avery and Ruby join us. “Perfection,” Avery says. “Fight night fierce.”
“It’s really not too bad, is it?” I say, turning sideways to take another look at my profile.
“Total fucking knock out,” Shelby says. She stands behind me, her hands on my bare shoulders.
“It’ll definitely knock Ryder out,” Ruby says.
“I can’t wait to see the look on his face,” Avery says.
I pull down the zipper slightly, just enough to give my cleavage a chance at a little attention, and strike a pose: hands on my hips, lips pursed, stomach sucked in. “I can’t wait to see the bulge in his pants.”
Shelby laughs. “That’s the spirit,” she says. “That man doesn’t know what he’s messing with.”
I turn to look into the open stall where my tote bag sits with my iPhone tucked inside, quiet for the moment, and I stand taller, straighter as I think how my answering the next time it rings is no guarantee. It’s entirely up to me.
I put an arm around Shelby. “None of them ever do,” I say.
CASSIE
CH. 15
High heels and cuff links, money and blood: fight night is at the same time more civilized and more primitive than I ever would have imagined.
The air smells of sweat and perfume, the music from the DJ’s corner punctuated by the grunts of the shirtless guys battling it out in the middle of the floor. “They’re such brutes,” Savannah says next to me. She grins. “I love it.”
I’d invited her along, figuring she’d enjoy meeting Shelby and Ruby and Avery, and also thinking that if I were going to tell her all about it later I might as well just bring her to see for herself. I had a hunch that describing fight night in the serene atmosphere of brunch at Sunrise Café wouldn’t do it full justice.
It’s well past midnight by now, but the crowd’s energy only seems to increase as the hour grows later. I wear the red stilettos and little black dress with the gold zipper I ended up buying this afternoon at the Virginia Highland boutique. From the way Ryder’s been looking at me all night, like a lone wolf eyeing a fawn, they may be the best purchases I’ve ever made.
We’ve only spoken once since I arrived. He happened to be near the entrance when I came in with Shelby and Avery and Ruby and Savannah, talking to some guy in a black leather jacket, wearing a suit similar to the one he had on at my house that night he came looking for Jamie. Only a couple weeks ago. Seems like a long time.
“You’re the last person I ever expected to see here,” Ryder said as I approached them, trailing behind the girls.
I rolled my eyes. “Didn’t mean to disappoint you, boss.”
“I didn’t say that,” he said. “So, does this mean I’m forgiven?”
I smiled and batted my eyes. “I didn’t say that,” I said. “Forgiveness is something you earn.” He raised his eyebrows and grinned. “Confucius says to be wrong is nothing unless you continue to remember it.”
“Wow,” I said. “Thanks for the deep thought.”
“I can go as deep as you want, tiger,” he said. He reached for my arm, but missing it, grabbed my hand instead, his fingers wrapped tightly around mine. “New dress?” His palm was warm but rough, the hands of someone who actually uses them. He pushed me away without letting me go, to give me a once-over.
“Brand-spankin’.”