I push her legs off the couch, and she cackles, hugging the dress to her chest. She laughs so hard that she falls off the couch and starts rolling around and kicking her feet.
“Shelby! Drink your damn juice!” she yells from the floor, and I roll my eyes until I laugh equally hard.
“Get the fuck up, asshole. Here, drink your own juice.” I thrust her drink out to her, and she snags it. We both take a drink as she stands, holding the flowery, springtime corporate chic monstrosity in front of us. It’s one of those things where the longer you stare at it, the more you find wrong with it. If I knew where my mother found this stuff, I might just have to burn it to the ground. However, there’s a solid possibility one of the women from her church donated these, and by the looks of it, the previous owner likely died in the eighties.
“I take it good old mommy dearest went shopping at the old folks’ home again?” She side-eyes me. “Alexis, your closet is the house of Satan! I’ll save your soul through fashion by house Mormon! I wonder what she’d do if we poorly hid some whips and giant dildos in there for next time. Quick! To the internet!”
“She’d make a terrible Mormon and you’re not ordering giant dildos. Mom dropped the clothes off the other day with a note while I was at work. Said something about these looking more…feminine… appropriate…other words,” I hear my voice trail off as the rest of the letter plays back in my head. Dani knows those weren’t the words my mother used. I skipped the ones that hurt. More attractive to a man of faith. Less like a whore of Babylon. Better fitted to my larger than necessary frame.
“Do you have scissors? God, my mother dresses better than this and she’s like seventy-six.” She doesn’t wait for an answer, hopping up and running into the kitchen. She returns a few minutes later, victorious in her search, and flops down next to me. Once she takes a big swig from her glass, she looks me right in the eyes. “Fuck this dress and fuck her. Come on, we’re doing this.”
A shiver runs up my spine as I nod slowly. I can always tell my mother the dresses didn’t fit or something when I throw them into a donation box somewhere. Dani picks the spot to make the first cut, then stops and holds the scissors out to me. I stare at them like I’ve never seen a pair of scissors before and couldn’t touch them.
“I can’t do this.” I push the scissors away and I remind her, “This whole fashion thing is your gig. I’ll fuck it up.”
“This cut isn’t about fashion, Lex. This cut is about freedom.” She pushes the scissors into my hand. “We’re going to turn this into a sexy, fun kimono and you’re going to wear it tonight. You’re going to drink, have fun, and meet the man of your dreams, all in rebellious defiance of that cunt who is absolutely unworthy of a daughter as badass and exceptional as you. In fact, I hope you get laid in this monstrosity. Repeatedly. Tonight!”
Sometimes it’s easy to forget where Dani comes from. She’s always happy and full of spice, even though her home life was never a walk in the park. Her father died when she was young, an accident at the factory he worked in. The payout from the company was a joke and it left her mother with six kids and no job. They made it work, though, and now, Dani, her sister, and her mother live in a cute little house near Silverlake. Or that’s how she describes it. I’ve never even been to her house.
I hold the ugly fabric in one hand and the cold steel shears in the other. I shouldn’t do this, and eventually I will end up paying for it when my mother finds out. But fuck if Dani isn’t right. The sound of the blades slicing is beautiful, and the way they slide through the material is therapeutic.
“Ah! You did it! So proud of you. Now, take off your sweater so I can get this thing sized up. Hurry!” She grabs her bag, and of course, she has a sewing kit and supplies with her. She gets to work cutting and ripping as fabric flies around her. I can tell she’s concentrating hard because her tongue is sticking out, so I hand her glass over now and then. She stops long enough to take another drink and get back to work.
I thumb through my phone for a few minutes, get bored with social media, and turn on the TV to some horror movie I’ve seen a dozen times or more. The whiskey is warm and Dani’s humming is soothing. Soon enough, I’m closing my eyes and letting it lull me to sleep.
“WAKE UP!”
I bolt upright, “What? What happened?”
“Nothing, smile. I’m sending a pic to Sam. Stick out your tongue or something cute.” She snaps the picture and sends it off as I stretch and rub my eyes. “I’m almost done. Go dig through your closet. White tank top, black shorts, and those cute ass boots you rarely wear. Oh, and fix your makeup. Either go all in on the raccoon mask or don’t. You can’t half-ass it tonight.”
“Okay, okay!” I trudge into my room and stare longingly at my bed. I can tell her I have a headache; it won’t be a total lie since Idohave one. It just isn’t bad enough to bail yet. Deciding against the idea, I glance over my shoulder and watch her finishing her project. I throw on the clothes she told me to wear and fix my makeup in the mirror.
Dani slides up behind me, and I put on what was formerly a dress and is now a boho-style duster. She’s cut slits in the arms and even added pockets. Fuck. I look damn good. Curves and all.She could probably sell this thing for a decent amount at a thrift store or clothing exchange.
“Your mother would hate this because of how fucking sexy you look in it. Does she even know about all these beautiful tattoos?” She arches an eyebrow at me in the mirror, and I shrug and shake my head. “She’d also hate James. So let’s go piss her off.”
“James? What about him?” I remember the conversation from earlier and gasp. “Oh fuck, he’s coming tonight, isn’t he? I can’t dress like this!”
“Yes, you can. You can dress however you want, look amazing! So let him stick his big?—”
“Dani, I don’t think that whole hook-up plan is a good idea. We’re supposed to work together. Work togeth—wait, how do you know he has a?—”
“I don’t, it’s a guess. Are you kidding? By the end of the night, I’m hoping he tears your clothes off, and this duster ends up in a pool at the foot of a sleazy motel bed.”
I don’t have time to change my mind or my clothes as she grabs my hand and drags me out of the apartment, leaving the shredded remnants of the dress on the floor for me to clean up later.
The bar is only a few blocks from my apartment and it’s still daylight out, so the walk is a kind of refreshing. I can’t stop myself from looking around as we walk and pulling the dress closed every time I notice someone. It hides some of the skin I’m showing, except now that it’s a duster, so it just keeps fluttering open with every step. I don’t mind wearing revealing clothes, but not around guys I’m supposed to be working with. I shouldn’t have let myself get so carried away with Dani.
I don’t get this nervous going out, especially to a bar with Dani by my side. If I’m honest with myself, it’s not the clothes; that’s just what my brain has decided to focus on. What I’m really worried about is spending the next few weeks working my ass off with James in tow. Traveling with him, staying in hotels, working weird hours. I barely even know him. I’d sure as hellliketo know him, though. Nothing long-term, but it’s possible Dani’s right. Temporary co-workers with benefits could do me some good.
“Why are you freaking the fuck out on me, Lex?” Dani breaks me out of my private headspace.
“What if he thinks I’m weird?”
“You are weird, Lex. It’s why we love you.” She pinches my cheek and pops her gum. “Besides, the worst thing that happens is you both get to work out your sexual frustrations with each other!”
“I have to work with him over the next few weeks. How about we stick to that? Just, you know, work. No hooking up or fucking or whatever.”
