By the time I stripped out of the giant doily and Celeste returner with another dress, I hadn’t decided which one it was. It wasn’t like we were that close, not really friends. The only people I’d call that I’d met in school, either in Thun or New Haven, but none of them lived anywhere near Miami. For better or worse, Celeste was as close as I came to a friend in this town.
“Here, try this one,” she said, pushing the door open just wide enough for her arm to shoot through. “It doesn’t look like a doily at all and it’s less conservative.”
She wasn’t wrong about that, on either count. When I finally tugged the dress into place, the hem barely made it halfway down my thighs, clinging tightly to my skin all the way. Every move I made sent it slipping higher. One horrible dress might have been a mistake on Celeste’s part, two made it a pattern. Was she intentionally sabotaging the wedding dress hunt she had nagged me into coming on in the first place?
“Are you coming out? You have to have squeezed into it by now,” Celeste asked from the other side of the door.
“This dress isn’t for me,” I replied, not moving an inch, “it’s a bit too revealing for a church wedding, even in an empty church.”
“At least let me see it,” she complained, getting ready to nag, I was sure.
As much as I wanted to stay put, change into my own clothes and go search for a gown I’d actually look good in, I knew she wouldn’t stop hounding me until I showed her the dress. With a sigh, I twisted the handle and pushed the door open.
“Wow, you might be right about that,” Celeste giggled, looking me up and down, “You might give the priest a heart attack if he saw you in that. Your soon-to-be husband, though… I bet he’d love to—”
“I’m not interested in what that thug wants,” I snapped back and closed the door.
Even though I’d admitted to myself how attractive he was the last time we’d seen each other, I’d stomped down such thoughts anytime they’d come up since. Keeping my anger hot helped me deal with the situation.
“Oh, come on, Olivia. Don’t be like that,” she teased, still giggling. “I mean, you have to admit he’s at least a fit thug. I wouldn’t mind taking him out for a spin.”
“Can we talk about something else?” I demanded. By now, I’d almost freed myself from the damn dress. “Anything else?”
“Don’t get jealous.” She feigned innocence. “I wouldn’t dream of actually touching your man.”
I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. When I let my emotions get the better of me, it was like I reverted to my younger self. Instead of lashing out at Celeste, I tried to calm the maelstrom, ignore the girl’s jabs.
Maybe that was why she wanted to sabotage my wedding dress. Did she have the hots for my soon-to-be husband and wish it was her in the white gown standing next to him?
“You know, I overheard my dad talking about him a couple times,” Celeste continued when I remained silent. “I think he might actually like you in that dress. Did you know he almost killed a man who punched a girl at one of his family’s brothels? Sounds like he has a soft spot for the whores.”
“Happy whores earn bigger tips.” I repeated a line I overheard my father say. When I’d heard it, I didn’t realize he’d been talking about the thug, but it fit.
“I wouldn’t know about that,” Celeste huffed. “Thankfully, I don’t have to deal with such a dirty business. Those poor girls.”
It might have taken me a few minutes to figure out her game, but soon after I did, Celeste didn’t even try to hide it anymore. The champagne had loosened her tongue. She’d been needling me like a voodoo doll, but now I wasn’t responding the way she wanted, she’d pulled out a knife. I was more than happy to dance.
“There’s nothing wrong with sex work,” I said, slipping on the shorts I’d worn to the boutique. “The girls are far from poor. They make a great living, we get a healthy cut and you wouldn’t believe how many of our men purchase time with them. It’s like a company store.”
“It’s exploitative,” Celeste hissed. “Those girls are selling their bodies.”
“No, they are only renting them out,” I said as I opened the door, “and if you think about it, everyone who works for someone else is renting their bodies too and most of them don’t make nearly as much money as some of our more talented girls.”
Celeste glared at me. Her lips pressed together tightly but quivered as she searched for a response. Her brows knitted when she finally found one.
“Maybe you and the ‘thug’ as you called him have more in common than you want to admit,” she sniggered. “Does the idea of him beating some innocent man half to death turn you on.”
“You just said the man he almost killed had punched one of the girls. That’s hardly innocent,” I shot back, side eyed. “It isn’t like I haven’t heard rumors about the thug myself. That one doesn’t bother me. He was protecting his employees.”
Again, I didn’t respond the way she expected. Her lips pursed but she didn’t get a chance for another barb. The shop girl swept into the room from the main area behind the flummoxed and reddening Celeste.
“Oh, that dress is completely unsuitable for you, Ms. Castello,” the newcomer said, her eyes darting to the barely there gown on my arm. “I have a Sottero that would be ideal for a woman of your… means. Would you like me to fetch it?”
“I’m the maid of honor and I’m helping Olivia find her dress,” Celeste whined, glaring at the shop girl to little effect.
“There is no maid of honor, you’re a witness,” I snapped before flashing a smile at the helpful woman. “I would love to see this dress you’re talking about.”
With a nod, she turned and swept back into the main area. Celeste’s glare turned to me when the other girl disappeared from view. I held my own anger, kept my face neutral as I looked down at her. When her eyes dropped and she stomped over to the champagne bottle, my lips curled upward.
