We drive fifteen minutes to the store, pulling open the door, and stepping in. My chest tightens. “This smells like it’s expensive.” I lean over and tell her. “Like, I feel like we should take off our shoes before we step on the cream carpet.”
“Would you shut up?” She looks over at me and the door opens behind us and we hear the squeals.
Zoey and Ariella both walk in, and we give each other hugs before the salesperson comes out dressed in a black shirt and blouse. “You must be the Richards appointment,” she says, looking at us. “I’m Monique and I’ll be taking care of you this afternoon.”
“I’m Zara’s daughter.” Zoey steps forward with a smile. Her mother is the most sought-after stylist in the United States. She started off as a personal shopper and then built her brand. She now does monthly subscription boxes on her best finds. Boxes that are sold out in seconds, with a waitlist that is three years deep. She is also the reason my closet stays overcrowded. I met her for the first time on the family vacation and by the time I got home, I had seven boxes of clothes she sent to me with a note that said, “This is you.” And she was not wrong. Everything in the boxes was me and fit perfectly.
“We have the fitting rooms ready for you,” she says with a smile. “If you will follow me.” She walks away and I am the last one to follow her, looking around at the racks and racks of clothes. None of them touch the others so you can get a good glimpse of them without moving the hangers. “She sent us a couple of inspiration boards for each of you.”
We walk to the back of the store where there are four massive dressing rooms with the same carpet as the front. Each changing room has a satin curtain pushed to the side. In the middle of the room is a pedestal for you to stand on that faces four blush chairs with mirrors all around the room, so you can see every angle. “Okay, who is going first?” Lexi asks.
“I’ll go first,” Ariella volunteers, “then I’ll sit on those”—she points to the chairs—“and drink champagne without a care in the world.”
I laugh as I head over to one of the chairs to sit down. Another woman comes out with a silver tray and four glasses of champagne on it. “It’s like she knew,” I say, grabbing a glass when she stands in front of me.
We try on dresses for what feels like eighty-five years. We also finish two bottles of champagne while laughing our asses off.
When we finish, we walk over to the Mexican restaurant right next door. Sitting down at a square table, Lexi says, “We will have a pitcher of margaritas and the tableside guacamole to start.”
“And queso,” Zoey adds, “double chips.” Then she turns to me. “So tell us…” I look at her, “how’s dating going?”
I laugh and then stop when the pitcher of margaritas arrives, taking a sip and hissing. “I hate tequila.” I about cough.
“Are you avoiding the whole dating question?” Zoey raises her eyebrows as she takes her own sip of her drink.
“There really isn’t much to say,” I admit. “I haven’t gotten laid in over a month. Sad panda face.”
“A month!” Lexi gasps out. “A month with who?”
“It was back in Arizona,” I mention then snap my fingers. “It was the guy I won at the auction.” I point at her, taking another gulp of the drink, this time the tequila tasting less intense than it did before, or maybe I’m just not tasting it.
“Darryl.” Her eyes look like they are going to bulge out of her head.
I slap the table with my hand. “That’s the one.” I chuckle. “I forgot his name.”
The whole table laughs at my confession. “What did you call him?” Ariella asks as she belly laughs.
“I kept calling him big boy,” I say, which makes them laugh even more. “Like, take that big boy out.” I smirk and take another sip. “He was below average, but he’s cute and his fingers got the job done.”
“Wait a second,” Lexi holds up her hand, “you kept calling him big boy all night?”
“Not all night,” I shake my head, “but when I needed to get his attention. Like afterward, I was like, ‘hey, big boy, you want a bottle of water?’”
“I can’t even with you.” Zoey shakes her head. “But seriously, have you been dating and not just banging?”
I shake my head. “No,” I say, “I don’t even know if I want to do that. Have you guys been on dating apps? It’s like a mosh pit of everything. I tried it once and the guy used filters because he did not look like he did in the pictures. And even worse, he lied about having a job as a caretaker. He lived with his parents and ran errands for them.”
“We should make a list of what you are looking for,” Ariella states, “and then put it out into the universe.”
“Ohhh, that sounds like fun,” Lexi says. “Okay, so how tall?”
I lean back in the chair and my mind immediately goes to Knox, and for the life of me, I have no idea why. He’s the complete opposite of what I would normally go for. “Over six feet. Lean, brown eyes, and dark hair.” Which is nothing like the blond-haired, blue-eyed devil that Knox is. “Also, no kids. Not that I don’t like kids, but no one has time for a baby momma who is going to make your life hell.”
“You know who you should date?” Zoey remarks. “One of Kirby’s friends.”
“That’s not ever going to happen,” Lexi says. “I can say he has made sure that everyone knows you are off-limits.” I look at her, shocked.
“Everyone…” I shake my head. “Well, there goes my big dream of being a WAG,” I joke and pick up my drink. “Well then, I guess it’s all on Nash’s shoulders.” I look at Zoey. “Time for him to step up to the plate and bring me home a finance bro.” Even saying the words, I cringe. “Honestly, guys, I’m just not there. Before I find someone, I need to figure out my own shit.”
