I desperately want to trust him. I keep hearing my mom’s voice in my head whenever he talks about things like record deals or flying to LA:
You can’t trust anyone, Paige, especially not in this industry. Don’t forget that.
It’s stupid. We’ve talked about it some more, and he doesn’t even think he wants togoto LA. Even if he did have to leave, it wouldn’t be aboutme. I’m acting like a clingy girlfriend, and we’re not even actually dating. I hate it, and I just want it to stop.
“Did you say you’re going to a wedding?”
DeeDee slides a tall glass over to me and then props her elbows on the bar and rests her chin on her hands while she waits for my answer.
“Uh, yeah. Also, wow. This is really something.”
I was wondering what was taking her so long with the mocktail. She’s normally inhumanly fast at serving drinks, but she seems to have gone all-out with this one. It’s some kind of blended concoction made of perfectly portioned orange and pink layers. The glass is rimmed with sugar, and there are little skewers of fruit set up in an artsy arrangement on top, along with a tiny pink umbrella.
“Wait!” Ingrid shouts before I can take a sip. “I need a picture of this.”
I feel like I’m betraying my innermost nature by drinking something with a pink umbrella in it, but the first sip has my eyes rolling back.
“Oh my god. So good.”
I go back for a second and third sip while DeeDee laughs and tosses her pink hair over her shoulder. “Ben, I know. I’m kind of a big deal.”
I slide the glass over to Ingrid and insist she try it.
“So, Paige,” DeeDee says once my mouth is free, “who is getting married?”
“My...friend’s sister.”
Both DeeDee and Ingrid burst out laughing at how not subtle that was.
“Well I’m sure you want to look nice for yourfriend. You should let me dye your hair again! What colour is your dress?”
“Uh...”
She narrows her eyes. “Do youhavea dress? Or like, something that isn’t a hoodie?”
I stay silent, and the two of them laugh again.
“I hadn’t really thought that far ahead.”
“Hein, attends!” DeeDee claps her hands together a couple times as her face lights up with that signature ‘DeeDee has an idea that is going to get us all into trouble’ expression. “I will ask to leave early, and we will all go dress shopping for Paige!”
Now it’s me and Ingrid laughing.
“Have youseenus?” Ingrid gestures between my baggy sweatshirt and her typical rock star ensemble of ripped skinny jeans and a leather jacket. “I think we’d burst into flames if we walked into a dress shop. Those are a thing, right? Dress shops? Is that where people get dresses?”
DeeDee just waves off the protests. “Tant pis. We are going. I will go ask Monroe, and then we just have to wait for the late shift people to get here.”
She heads off to the back, and Ingrid turns to me.
“So, I guess we’re going dress shopping.”
I nod. That’s kind of how it works with DeeDee. “Yeah, I guess we are.”
By the time we head out a half hour later, DeeDee has already come up with a detailed plan for the rest of our day.
“So, we will go up to Boulevard Saint-Laurent,” she recaps as we step out onto the sunny sidewalk, “and we will get bagels along the way, becausedamn, I am hungry. Then we will walk around and see what we find, and after, we will bring some things home so Paige can try them on without ripping her arm off in the little store change rooms.”
DeeDee added that part after I announced that changing in public was not an option. Changing without assistance is still barely an option for me.
