I cross my arms across my chest. “We have to pick something else. I amnotgoing to work commando.”
“Why not?” She looks genuinely confused.
“Because it’s unprofessional.” She probably works for Hollywood celebrities who go commando everywhere, including Catholic mass. It’s likely she doesn’t know you don’t do that at an office.
She laughs, the sound full of rich humor. “Honey, it’s not unprofessional if nobody knows.”
“ButI’m going to know that I’m not wearing underwear.”
She snaps her fingers. “Exactly! Unless you tell, nobody’s going to know. I’m so glad we agree on this.”
I’m beginning to realize she’s not going to see things from my perspective. What is up with personal shoppers and their intense dislike for clothes you can wear with lingerie? It’s almost like their archenemies own all the lingerie stores in the country.
“But you didn’t only pick out no-underwear clothes, did you?” I ask.
“Of course not.” She gestures at a separate pile. “You can wear lingerie with those. And we’ll just pick these out.” She plucks a few lacy undergarments from a neat pile.
“I don’t think that’s necessary.”
“Of course it is. Nothing boosts a girl’s confidence like sexy lingerie. Trust me. Aaaand…let’s see… We’ll throw in a couple corsets just because they’re hot.”
“I thought underwear didn’t matter because nobody can see it.”
Josephine makes a finger gun and points at me with a small click of her tongue. “Butyouknow what you’re wearing underneath. I’m going to get you garter belts and fishnet stockings, too. Every woman should have some, just in case.” She then shamelessly tosses in a few pairs of silky stockings too.
It’s tiring to wonder what Grant’s motive is for doing this, and trying to estimate how much everything costs, since Josephine isn’t giving me a chance to check any of the price tags. He made it clear they were loaners, and since he can’t repurpose these and gift them to his girlfriends or next assistant, my head hurts from trying to figure out how he plans to screw me over with them later. Not only that, I have to watch Josephine closely to ensure she doesn’t add more accessories and shoes. She’s convinced I need a different purse for each day of the week. And something like twenty pairs of earrings and ten watches. I only need one on my wrist. Not even Grant wears ten watches!
The entire time she’s brushing off my objections, she vibrates with vitality. It’s like she’s a money vampire. The more of Grant’s money she spends, the more energized she becomes.
She even forces a haircut on me, insisting it’s what Grant wants, although I can’t imagine why he’d want my hair cut. Maybe to make a better trophy when he mounts my head on his office wall.
I ask to have it lopped off into a bob, but she gasps in horror. “I’d prefer to work for your boss a bit longer.”
“He won’t notice.” He only cares about how others might perceive him. He wouldn’t care if I showed up bald.
“He most definitely will. Trust me on this, Aspen. I’m the expert, remember? Besides, I’m not asking you to do anything extra here. Just what you have to.”
I give her a skeptical look. “You forced twenty pairs of shoes on me.”
“Exactly. If I had it my way, you’d be leaving with at least forty. You have such fabulous feet, and we haveso manypretty shoes. They complete your look for the day, you know.”
I mentally throw my hands up in the air. Why even try?
She continues, “Normally, I’d suggest highlighting it too, but your hair’s already so perfect the way it is. I love the mix of copper and gold. Very classy. You’re lucky your hair’s naturally perfect.”
“Thank you.” I’m surprised at her praise. She’s demonstrated that she doesn’t give out empty compliments. She was pretty brutal about some of my selections—mainly because I wanted to pick out black for easy coordination. She said if I want to look like a drab, colorless bore, I’m welcome to it, but as long asshe’sdressing me, I’m going to pop like a finely cut diamond in a pile of coal.
“Where do you live?” Josephine asks.
“Why?”
“I’ll have everything delivered to your place. Obviously, you can’t carry all this.” She gestures at the mountain of bags and boxes.
It’s after five and I’m mentally exhausted. And I absolutely donotwant to make multiple two-hour trips between my place and here to get everything. So I scribble my address for her, then check the list of inventory carefully before signing the paper she gives me.
I start to call for a car pickup, but Josephine checks her phone and smiles. “Your ride is here.” She starts to walk me out.
“What? When did you arrange for that?”
