“Bet you wish you’d taken the deal.” Without waiting for a reply, he fluttered off, his purple and blue wings glittering in the light.
“I will figure out a way to get your tiny ass out of here,” I yelled at him.
“Fat chance of that, meat bag.”
Meat bag. What kind of insult was that? Upstart little pest. Just wait. I’d figure something out right after I hit up the grocery store for another jar of cinnamon. I emptied the last one chasing the pixies down last night.
I worked my hair free, though it took a bit of doing and left several strands behind.
“You better run. Your time’s coming,” I muttered.
My doorbell rang.
From my seat on the couch, I twitched the curtain open just enough to peak through. If I craned my neck just right, I could catch a glimpse of the landing in front of my door. A view of a blond with shoulder length hair and wearing a long sapphire blue dress greeted me.
Caroline.
What was she doing here? I thought we were meeting at the Columbus Museum of Art at nine pm.
The bell rang again.
I looked down at what I was wearing and frowned. I was still in my pajamas from yesterday. No time to change.
The bell rang for a third time.
I sprung up and yanked the door open. Caroline had her hair pulled back into some type of fancy low bun. I saw I’d been wrong before. Her gown wasn’t sapphire so much as a cross between sapphire and teal. It had a v neck with spaghetti straps that were covered in a lace cap, giving the illusion of sleeves.
“Hey, what are you doing here?” I asked with a bright smile.
She looked me over skeptically. “Are you still wearing the clothes from yesterday?”
“Ah. Yup. Got a problem with it?”
“No, no, just not used to seeing that,” she said.
I noticed her arms were full of boxes.
“What’s that?”
She looked down then frowned up at me. “I knew you didn’t have a dress so I brought a couple of mine over for you to try on.”
Ah. That explained why she had shown up unannounced. When we were still good friends, this had been normal behavior. Not so much after our falling out. That’s why it was so unexpected finding her standing on my doorstep.
“That looks like a lot of dresses,” I observed. She must have been holding four or five boxes. Did each box represent a dress? If so, how many of these galas had she attended? It made me wonder if it was considered tacky to show up in the same dress more than once. I was glad this would be the one and only one I attended.
“Yes, and they’re very heavy. Are you going to invite me in?”
I stood aside, making it clear she was welcome to enter.
She stepped inside, her silver heels tapping across the wood as she crossed to my coffee table to set her burden down. She turned around, heading back toward me.
“I have several more dresses and shoes in the car. Why don’t you get a shower and then get started with those to see if there are any you like while I get the rest?”
She had more? Good lord. How many fancy dresses did she need?
Grumbling to myself, I advanced on my coffee table with all the enthusiasm of someone approaching a rattlesnake. It wasn’t that I didn’t like dressing up. I did. Just because I spent time in the military didn’t mean I was against looking feminine or wearing dresses. In fact, I found during my time in the service that the women were just as likely or even more likely to enjoy pampering themselves and wearing nice things. I think it came from having to wear the same uniform over and over again.
No, I just wasn’t looking forward to having to go to a stuffed shirt event like a gala. I didn’t even know what gala meant. All I knew was that I was going somewhere I knew no one and would be as out of place as a bird under water. Not something I particularly enjoyed.
