The Dress

LIAM

If I hated Jazelle before, then I fucking loathed her guts as she stood over Freya, trying to intimidate her.

I felt my blood start to boil as a protective instinct took hold.

I clenched my fists.

“This has nothing to do with her,” I said, trying to divert the attention away from Freya.

But Jazelle wouldn’t stand down.

“How old are you, little girl?” Jazelle said to Freya with a wicked smile. “Old enough to know who you’re messing with, I’m sure.”

“You’re a singer, right?” I heard Freya mutter through gritted teeth. “Or wait—are you an actress?”

Her comment sent Jazelle spiraling. “You have some nerve!” she said.

I couldn’t help but chuckle to myself.

Jazelle was right: Freya had one hell of a backbone.

“Liam,” Luce said, cutting through the tension. “I made a reservation for you guys tonight at Mako. Ryan is already on his way over with outfits for you guys to wear. Would it really kill you to just—”

“Yes, Luce. It would ~literally~ kill me to spend another evening pretending to like her.”

“Baby!” Jazelle whimpered, swiveling back to face me.

“Think of your career,” Lucinda said impatiently. “It’s basic PR. The more popular you are as a couple, the more popular you become as individuals. Her fans become yours…you know the gist.”

It was the same bullshit I’d been hearing for months.

“So just man up,” she continued, “and go eat expensive sushi with Jazelle!”

For a moment, I felt my conviction falter.

Years of partying and promiscuity—not to mention the DUIs—had indeed sunk my reputation.

But ever since I began “dating” Jazelle, my ticket sales and Instagram followers started back on an upward trajectory.

~Can I really risk losing that momentum?~

But then I caught Freya’s eye, and for a moment, it felt like she was reading my mind.

I wondered if she would be disappointed in me if I agreed to the date.

~Why the hell I care what she thinks of me, I can’t figure out…~

Regardless, I gave my resolute, final answer.

“No,” I said, and then before I could stop myself, “I’m taking Freya to Mako instead.”

“WHAT?” Jazelle screamed.

“What?” Luce deadpanned.

“~What!?~” I heard from Freya.

FREYA

~Did Liam Henderson really just say what I think he said?~

That he wanted to take ~me~ on some weird PR-fueled celebrity date?

This notion was apparently the final straw for Jazelle.

“Liam Henderson,” she said dramatically. “I’m going to write an entire album about how you fucked me over. And it’s going to go Platinum.”

An extra-large tear splashed onto her cheek, loosening the glue that was keeping her thick false eyelashes in place.

“And you!” she said, pressing one of her claws into my chest. “You better watch your back.”

With that ominous, if vague, warning, she stormed out of the living room.

From the hallway, I heard Ryan’s flamboyant voice call out: “Hi, Jazelle!” and then shortly after, “Bye, Jazelle?”

Ryan appeared in the living room, carrying two garment bags.

“Hello again,” I said to Ryan.

“You guys met?” Liam asked, looking between us, confused.

“Yep! When we dragged your sorry ass home,” he replied.

“Oh,” Liam said, his face flushing.

“I’m Liam’s stylist, by the way,” Ryan said to me. “When I found out that Liam Henderson was one of Ant’s childhood friends, I just knew that I had to be a part of his glam team.”

“Ant?” I asked.

“Anthony,” Ryan said. “The man that was with me last night. My loving, if sometimes irritable husband.”

“~And~ my loving, if sometimes irritable brother,” Lucinda chimed in.

“One big, happy, dysfunctional family,” Ryan said cheerily. “Now back to business. I’ve picked out the most stunning outfits for Liam and Jazelle tonight.”

He paused, looking back toward the door. “Where ~has~ that whirling dervish run off to now?”

“Jazelle isn’t coming,” Liam said. “I’m taking Freya instead.”

A look of surprise washed over Ryan’s face.

It couldn’t have been that different from the one I was wearing.

“Wh-what?” I stuttered. “I thought you just said that to get rid of Jazelle!”

“Liam, think about what you’re doing,” Lucinda protested. “This will make you look like ~such~ a womanizer.”

“I don’t care,” Liam said flippantly. “You got me in the mood for sushi.”

“You are truly impossible,” Lucinda said, resting her head in her hands. “I should really just drop you from my roster.”

“Wait,” I cut in. “You never asked me if ~I~ wanted to get dinner with ~you.~ And in case you were wondering, I don’t. I just bought groceries.”

I couldn’t remember the last time I had actually ~eaten~ in a restaurant, much less somewhere as fancy as Mako.

“Freya,” Liam said, “please, just do this for me.”

“Why?”

“Because I need to prove to Jazelle, and to the world, that it’s really over between us. Just this once. Please.”

The raw desperation in his voice suddenly ignited some sympathy in me.

“And what do I get out of it?” I asked.

“A fancy meal.”

I thought back to the little bit of personal information I’d tried to get out of Liam and how closed off he was.

“I want something else,” I said.

“Of course you do,” Liam chuckled. “What? Money?”

“No,” I said firmly. “I want one question.”

“What?” he asked, bewildered.

“I get to ask you one personal question and you have to answer it. ~Truthfully,~” I emphasized, keeping my eyes locked on his darting amber ones.

Money was no object to Liam. But he locked his vulnerability far beneath the surface in an iron-clad safe.

I thought that I had asked for the one thing he would ~never~ agree to give up…

But then he tilted his head up to me and asked, “One question?”

“Yes,” I confirmed.

“Fine,” he said.

~Whoa. I did not expect that.~

So I pressed on…

“And one other thing,” I said.

“Oh, come on!” Liam pouted.

“You have to promise me that you won’t drink. Because I refuse to carry you out of there.”

“Fine,” he said again. “I’ll be a sober bore all night if that’s what you’re into. Are you happy now?”

~Wow.~

I couldn’t believe he had agreed to all my terms. But now I had trapped myself into a corner, and there was no getting out.

I ~had~ to go out to dinner with Liam Henderson.

“Go,” he said sharply. “Get changed.”

My stomach dropped as I looked down at my paint-splattered clothes.

“Oh…” I said quietly. “I don’t think I have anything to wear…to a place like that.”

“UM, HELLO!” Ryan’s voice blared out. “Allow me to be your fairy godfather for the evening. Come with me,” he said.

He grabbed the garment bag labeled “Jaz” in one hand and clutched my wrist with the other.

Without another word, he led me toward my own bedroom.

When we were alone, Ryan unveiled the dress like he was performing a magic trick.

“Voila!” he said.

“Oh no,” I said. “No, no, no.”

The dress looked like it was constructed for a Barbie.

After all, it was picked out for Jazelle’s surgically perfected hourglass frame.

There was no way I could pull this look off.

“It’s Fendi,” Ryan cooed. “Straight off the runway at NYFW!”

“NYFW?” I asked him.

“New York Fashion Week! Oh my goodness, I have so much to teach you.”

“Ryan, that isn’t going to look good on me. I’ll just wear what I have on.”

He scoffed. “You will send me to an early grave if you go to Mako wearing ~that~. Just try it on! Did you not hear me when I said it’s ~Fendi~?”

He slipped the dress off the hanger and draped it into my hands. It turned out that everything weighed more in Rich People Land.

~Credit cards.~

~Dresses.~

~Peer pressure.~

“Okay. I’ll ~try~ it,” I sighed. “Turn around.”

“Oh honey,” Ryan said. “I’m not in the market for what you’re selling. Just put the damn dress on.”

I slipped out of my T-shirt and jeans and shimmied into the dress.

“I’ll zip you up,” Ryan squealed, and after a moment, I was strapped in.

I felt like I was tied up in a straitjacket.

And I might as well have been, because when I spotted myself in the mirror, I looked ~insane~—like a caricature of myself.

My breasts were defying gravity.

And I couldn’t help but wonder what kind of irreversible damage the corset was doing to my organs.

I had no idea how to carry myself in this kind of outfit.

I looked like a fraud who had stolen another woman’s wardrobe.

In fact, that was ~exactly~ what I had done.

“I can’t—” I started.

“WAIT!” Ryan screamed before I could utter another word.

He conjured a pair of sparkling heels seemingly out of thin air.

“Only the finest red soles for the lady,” he said, and I crammed my feet into the shoes.

While I wasn’t one for sparkle and shine, I could always appreciate a well-constructed piece of art. And these shoes were just that; there was no denying it.

“Thanks, Ryan, but—”

“I know what you’re going to say,” he said. “You hate it. You feel uncomfortable. Blah, blah, blah. But why don’t we get some second opinions before you tear apart my masterpiece.”

“Fine,” I said as he opened my bedroom door.

“Devastating that we don’t have time for hair and makeup,” he said. “But time is of the essence.”

~Really? My natural hair and face are…devastating?~

“She’s ready,” Ryan singsonged.

Moments later, I heard Liam’s footsteps coming down the hall, and I suddenly felt my palms start to sweat.

I wanted my fairy godfather to make me vanish instantaneously.

But instead, he was pushing me into the spotlight.

“Liam?” I called out before I could see him. “I don’t think I should be wearing this.”

And then he appeared in front of me.

His eyes widened as he took all of me in.

I could have sworn that his face paled a shade or two.

I couldn’t stand the silence any longer, so I finally mustered one word: “Well?”

“You’re right,” Liam said. “But we’re going to be late for our reservation if we don’t leave now.”

And just like that, he grabbed me by my elbow and dragged me toward the front door.

I was too mortified to put up a fight.