Then I used energy drinks.
Finally, when the early hours between night and day arrived, I looked at the red-lettered debt collector bills piled on my desk. It was the last push I needed to get me through my task.
Yawning for the millionth time, I rubbed furiously at my eyes. In the sharp orange-sherbet light of sunrise, the gown shone like a bronze sea. It was some of my best work, and picturing it draped on Francesca was almost enough to shake off my weariness.
Almost.
Yawning, I stumbled into my shower. If there was any hope of meeting her today for her fitting, I needed to get my act together. Hanging my head under the stream of furious water, I closed my eyes and hummed.
The last time I’d pulled an all-nighter was back in college. I’d been determined to show off a series of full-length couture gowns for my finals. It was an insane task to take on. It left me with bleeding fingers and a hatred for chicken wire.
But that collection had gotten me my dream job in New York.
It was a pretty good job, too, while it lasted. Laughing to myself, I flipped wet hair from my face. Stop thinking about that. It doesn’t matter now. Besides, who needed the high-paid, fast-paced lifestyle of New York City?
I didn’t let myself answer that question.
Wrapping a towel around my body, I stepped across the cold tile toward my bedroom. The blinds were open, pointing right at the building rubbing shoulders with mine. Not keen on giving anyone a show, I tiptoed over, tugging at the cord.
In a masterful display of craftsmanship, the blinds snapped right off the window.
Gasping, I jumped back before they smacked my feet. I was left standing there in the early sun, in nothing but a towel, with a broken string in my fist.
In the apartment across the way, a baffled older man stared at me.
Inhaling through my nose, I looked around my room for a solution. In the corner, next to some of my still-not-unpacked boxes, there were some sheets of cardboard. Grabbing one, I snatched up some of the packing tape and faced the window.
Then my towel started to slip.
With nothing but some cardboard between me and the stranger, I groaned loudly. Was this really how my day was going to go? Gritting my teeth, I quickly taped the most haphazard excuse for a curtain into place.
Stepping back, I scooted the towel higher on my boobs and observed my work. About as good as the blinds were. I really needed to get out of this shitty apartment, but it was all I could find in my budget on such short notice.
It wasn’t like I’d grown up having it easy, but we’d been middle class—comfortable. It was only when my dad died last year that things went to hell. There was no insurance policy, and what little money that had been squirreled away went straight to my mother’s doctors the sicker she grew.
But that’s going to change. Twenty grand was enough to set things straight again.
Scratching at my wet hair, I didn’t stop my towel when it fell to the floor that time. It was dark in my room now; that was fine, I didn’t need much light to find some clean clothes.
By the time I managed to tug on some jeans and a black button-up blouse, it was crawling close to ten a.m.
Stumbling into the tiny kitchen, I made up a quick pot of coffee. I hovered over it while it percolated, drumming my nails anxiously. It was still dripping when I yanked the pot out, pouring the black nirvana into my stallion-head-shaped mug.
Sitting down, I took the biggest gulp ever. Fuck, that was good. That was what I needed.
I was only twenty-three, but I was way too old to pull all-nighters. Weren’t people constantly talking about how important sleep was? Something about how every hour you lost took a day off your life?
I was pretty sure I’d heard a doctor say that. A television doctor, but still.
Tapping on my phone, I checked for directions to the address where Francesca wanted to meet. When my Google Maps told me the drive would take over an hour, I choked on my coffee.
She lived in Newport? Damn, I hadn’t accounted for that in my timing. Scooping up the plastic-wrapped wedding dress, I set my mug gently in the sink. I was in a rush, but I was still careful not to chip the cup. It was my favorite one—a gift from my father.
Throwing everything into the backseat of my weathered but treasured Dodge Avenger, I grimaced at the bright sun. It was just turning the corner into summer, the sky managing to be the sort of primary blue you found only in children’s toys.
Fumbling in my glove box, I found a pair of oversize sunglasses. The bronze Guccis were an artifact from my time in New York, I’d bought them for myself as a gift for landing the job at Filbert’s Bridal.
It was a heavy reminder of the comfortable future I’d thrown away. I did it for the right reason, I reminded myself. And besides . . . I just landed a twenty-k gig. That’s more than I made in four months at Filbert’s! Things are looking up for me.
With determination, I slid the sunglasses onto my face and ground down on the gas pedal.
When this job was over with, I’d buy myself something even nicer than my Guccis as a reward.
This couldn’t be right.
Flicking my eyes up, then back down to the map on my phone, I wondered what was going on. How had my GPS gotten so fucked up? Because it was fucked up. It had to be. That was the only explanation for why it had taken me here.
The long, wrought iron gate spread like two linked arms in front of me. It was both intimidating and oddly pretty, the way an attacking hawk could be pretty. The mansion beyond was dazzling.
I just couldn’t believe this was the right place. Then again, they DID pay a premium for that dress. Was it possible the Badds lived here? No, I couldn’t quite believe it. I’d watched people blow tons of money on weddings, it didn’t mean they were rich—just desperate.
And this went beyond rich. This was the kind of estate the president would live in!
Bouncing my skull into my headrest, I made a long, low noise. Why could nothing be easy for me? Now I was going to have to call up Francesca, tell her I’d be late, and ask her for better directions because I was freaking lost.
Gritty, mechanical snarls filled the air. Black and gold, the motorcycle slammed to a stop next to my driver’s-side window. Throwing myself sideways in surprise, I gawked at the reflective helmet of the rider. I could see my own shock in the mirrored surface.
Hard hands with oddly clean nails yanked the helmet away. “Sammy?” Kain asked, looking me over with amusement. “That you? I almost didn’t recognize you under those clamshells on your face.”
Shoving the sunglasses up onto my scalp, I regained my composure. “Why are you here? Were you following me?”