I pull up Jules’s Instagram. I see that he’s already posting about the date and hashtagging GoldRush. I feel like I’m careening past the pit of total failure on two wheels, burning rubber and trying to make a full turnaround.
“He posted a few stories about his date prep.” I show her a video of Jules deciding between a pair of purple underwear and green underwear, captionedHot date tonight on the West Coast. #GoldRush.“How cute is that?”
She leans back and folds her arms over her chest. “For real?”
I don’t show her the next post. Jules is mugging for the camera making the only face he knows how to make: sexy. It’s captioned,Can’t wait to meet my angel. She plays the harp.
Crystal still doesn’t look excited but she agrees to try on a simple, classy sundress and some strappy sandals that will look nice the first couple of times she wears them, until the shiny fake patent leather peels off. I fill the cart with anything I can imagine someone wearing on the red carpet—jewelry that isn’t emoji-based, sexy heels, a few more dresses.
“Just change into whatever you want to wear and we’ll pay on the way out.” My whole life is riding on this date. I will buy any crap that gives this date a fighting chance. Well, Max will.
I don’t ask if she has an employee discount. It might give away the fact that I don’t have $5,000 to pay her. Not that I’m going to stiff her, but no one is getting paid until I have some money.
While she’s changing, Jules posts again. This time it’s a screenshot of him making a duck face and a snap of Crystal that I must have sent him. It’s Crystal when she’s not at Walmart, and she looks pretty damn good. She’s all pouty lips, smoky eyes, and a little black dress.
Crystal walks out of the dressing room looking 100 percent more like her picture. She’s a total knockout, like Walmart should definitely hire her to do all of their ads immediately. That’s when I know I’m a genius. Jules would be fucking lucky to go out with this woman. “Can I snap a pic of you?” I ask. Time to start hyping up the date from my end. I mean, that’s what this is all about, right?
I post a photo and tag Jules.
“I don’t know. I don’t like this dress,” she says.
“It looks awesome.”
“I just feel weird. Kai has a cold. I’m supposed to work at the club tomorrow. What the fuck am I even doing?”
“You can do this, Crystal.”
From the look she gives me, I know that all of her thoughts have coalesced. Her inarticulate feelings of despair and apathy have hardened into some kind of resolve.Dear God, please make Crystal go on this date. Sorry if I’ve been a bitch my whole life. Sorry about Kobra. But please! I NEED THIS.
Crystal gives me a weird look. “Have you ever asked yourself whyyou’redoing this, Mia?”
I give her a panic-stricken look. I’m losing her. What am I going to do? While I watch her walk back to the dressing room, JP texts me.
When are you gonna be home? I miss you!
Miss you too! Home soon.
K. I’ll wait up.
Maybe don’t.
Crystal walks out of the dressing room in her work outfit, her hands on her hips. “I’ll go. But I’m going like this. Take it or leave it.”
I shut my eyes against reality for a second. Crystal doesn’t understand. All I need to do is get through this date. If it goes well and Jules hypes GoldRush and I snag just a few more customers, I’ll be back in the money. I will be able to pay everythingoff.48My life is riding on this. If she shows up in this outfit, I’m financially doomed—and potentially going to prison.
It’s time to come clean. “I paid Jules one hundred grand to go on this date and post about it,” I say.
Crystal’s eyes go crazy big. With her eyeliner and all the fake lashes she looks like a cartoon. “What?”
“You heard me.”
“What the fuck is wrong with you?”
“Honestly, you’re not wrong to ask that. I can’t go into it now but I spent every last dime on this and I’ll never get out of this hole without your help.”
She laughs. “So how are you paying me?”
Fuck. I shouldn’t have told her. “I don’t have any money left, but as soon as I do, I’ll make it up to you.”
