“Seriously?” I gaped at Randy.
“Do I look like the type to joke?” More like the type to twist my head off like a bottle cap.
“What’s the pin code?” Some people might have let pride stand in their way. I wasn’t that person.
“You won’t need one.”
My lips pursed. This all seemed very Pretty Woman and it made me suspicious. “What’s the catch?”
“None. As you are the boss’ protégé, all your expenses are covered. Shall I have Gwen warm the Lincoln?”
“I can drive myself.”
“You’re not going alone.” Randy crossed his arms.
“Does it have to be Gwen?” The woman hated me. Then again so did Lou—he glared the few times I ran into him and I’m certain I heard him muttering something about me being unworthy. As for Randy, this was the most he’d spoken to me.
“Gwen knows where to take you to find suitable garments.”
“Is that a dig on my threads?”
Randy’s lip curled. “While suitable for your previous life, as Cillian’s protégé, you need to elevate your appearance.”
“God forbid I embarrass him,” I grumbled.
“Exactly. Wait here while I fetch Gwen.”
I honestly debated driving off without her, but, at the same time, I could use her help. I didn’t know where to shop for nicer stuff, given I’d always worked within a tight budget.
Gwen arrived wearing a stony expression and offered no greeting. She slid right into the driver’s seat. I could have ridden in the back as she expected, but, despite knowing she didn’t like me, I popped into the passenger seat beside her and chirped, “Where should we go first?”
“Nowhere anybody would recognize you,” she stated as the garage door opened and she rolled the car outside.
“I doubt anyone at Walmart or Target would remember me.”
“We are not going to bargain chains,” she stated.
“Well, then you’ll have to suggest somewhere because that’s all I know.”
Gwen turned onto the road before saying, “Given your lack of fashion sense, it’s probably best I take you to Yvette.”
“What’s Yvette? Don’t think I’ve ever heard of that store.”
“Because she’s a person.”
“Oh. Is this Yvette a fashion expert or something?”
“Of sorts. She will dress you as befits your new station so you don’t embarrass Cillian.”
“Kind of hard to embarrass when the man is never around.”
“He’s busy.”
“Doing what?”
“If he wanted you to know, he’d tell you.”
“Can’t tell me if I never see him,” I complained. “Does he have a job? A girlfriend?”
