She doesn’t sound judgmental like Sadie or Lola, but maybe she’s seeing something I’m not. “I honestly don’t think I look that bad.”
“You don’t. But the suit that your boss is wearing is worth, mmm, thirty or forty thousand dollars.”
Holyshit! There are suits that cost that much?
“And the cuff links? Those are custom, so probably around six, seven thousand?”
Oh my God.
“I think he wants you to elevate your wardrobe, so you don’t look so, ah…economically modest next to him.”
She doesn’t have to be so delicate. I probably look like a hobo next to him. It didn’t seem to bother him when we were younger, but maybe it does now. Or maybe it always did, which is why he spent such an extravagant sum to dress me in Malibu.
“Besides,” Josephine says, waving a hand, “he’s probably going to expense the whole thing, so don’t worry about it.”
“You aren’t going to put me in things that cost that much, are you?” Grant said they were loaners. I don’t want him to demand I pay for potential damage when I return them. I’m going to have to blame standard wear and tear, but my stomach hurts already from the possible battle to come. I wonder if I can get him to sign a legal document saying I’m not responsible for the condition they’re in when I give them back.
The things I do to keep my job.But I think of Grandpa. It’ll be worth it. Everything’s worth it to keep him in a nice, safe place where the staff treats him with the dignity he deserves.
Josephine gestures at a few people, and they start bringing out racks of clothes. The experience reminds me a little bit of how things were with Marketta, but of course we’re not at Grant’s mother’s place in Malibu.
“I want you to trytheseskirts and tops”—Josephine says, tapping her lip—“andthosedresses.” She plucks the items off the racks with impressive speed.
“Are we going to do any pants?” I eye her selections with a bit of suspicion. The things she’s holding are vibrant jewel tones. Given her taste and confidence, they’re likely to fit like a dream, but skirts and dresses seem… I don’t know. Too flirty? Too feminine?
Or maybe I’m reluctant because they remind me too much of the first set of clothes Grant bought me—those stunning dresses I only got to wear once before I asked Suyen to get rid of them for me.
“Honey, you have amazing legs. The kind that every woman in this town would kill for. You ever wait tables?”
“Yes,” I say slowly.
“Uh-huh. And all guys tipped double when you wore a skirt?”
“Well…yeah.”
She beams. “I knew it! So why hide them with pants? Unless the firm allows you to wear shorts…?” She looks at me expectantly.
“No. I’ve never seen anyone wearing shorts in the office.”
“That’s what I thought. Anyway, that’s why I’m picking these out. You don’t seem interested in buying everything in sight, so we have to maximize your potential.”
“Can we make this as efficient as possible?” I ask. Grant will probably complain if I take too much time here.
“Sure. Do you mind if I go into the dressing room with you?”
“If it’ll make things go faster? Not at all.”
I put on the first set of items that she picks out. She watches me put on some of the clothes and shakes her head.
“I just wanted you to know that you can’t wear underwear with that.”
Awkward.“I’m not taking off my panties in front of you,” I say with extra friendliness.
“Believe me, I don’t want you to.” She laughs. “But when you wear that at work, you just can’t.”
I pause. “Is this the kind of ‘delicate item’ that I can’t wear with lingerie?”
“Basically. These”—she gestures at several skirts—“mold to your body and emphasize your line, which, by the way, is fabulous. So you can’t put on anything underneath because it will show.”
