21
ANNOYING DICKS
LAKE
In the passenger seat, Remy’s fidgeting with her necklace the whole time. It’s a silver pendant of a sun. She can’t keep her hand off it as I drive along Van Ness toward the dress shop in Hayes Valley. Out of the corner of my eye, I catch her flipping it over like it’s a coin, then back again.
She rolls her lips together, blows out a breath, turns the sun back over.
Something’s up, but her self-protective streak is a mile wide and ten miles deep. I’ve got to start slow and easy to figure her out. “That a new necklace?”
“Oh, this thing?” she asks, like she’s just noticed she’s wearing it.
“Yeah. I haven’t seen it before.”
Her lips quirk briefly, then she says, “Your sister gave it to me just because.”
“That’s very Clem,” I say.
“She’s a gift giver,” Remy replies but her brow knits, and she’s thinking so loud, only I can’t make out the words through the static. But something’s on her mind.
Don’t know what though, so I stay on topic for now. “Shelikes to give me gag gifts. Last year for my birthday she sent me my face on a potato.”
Remy bursts into laughter. “I had no idea that existed.”
“Everything exists,” I say.
“What’d you get her for her birthday?”
“A Congrats on Being My Sister candle,” I say.
“I think she won that gift battle,” Remy says. “But the candle is a nice touch.”
“The potato is hard to beat,” I admit, then nod toward her necklace. “That’s pretty. And it suits you,” I say, slowing at the red light at the top of a hill.
“Yeah,” she says, a little distant. Then, maybe realizing she’s elsewhere, she whips her gaze to me, flashing a closed mouth smile. “Thank you.”
“It looks nice on you,” I add, and I want to smack myself.It looks nice on you? That’s so weak. I’m off my game now too. I tap the gas when the light changes.
She goes quiet again. Stares out the window.
I need to figure this out before we go into the shop. Don’t want to walk into the store with this strange tension hanging over us before she has to deal with all her sister’s people and all her sister’s wishes.
The GPS chirps at me that we’re nearing the store, so I turn at the next light, heading into the fashionable, trendy district. The second I find a spot on a side street, I cut the engine, turn to her, and ask plainly, “Are you okay?”
Right as she says, “There’s something I have to ask you.”
I’m grateful she wants to say something, but I brace myself for whatever it might be. “Ladies first.”
She swallows, rolls her lips together, and meets my eyes. “Caroline’s sponsor wants me to do a lipstick test. Today,” she adds, the words piling up on top of each other. “Us.”
My brain overloads. Wires short-circuit. They snap andpop. Doesn’t take a genius to figure out what a lipstick test is, but just in case, I say, “Like a kiss test?”
A tiny laugh falls from her lips. “Yes.”
I smother a smile so it’s not obvious this is making my fucking day. “On camera? To test the makeup or something?”
“Yes. It was Caroline’s idea at the picnic, and she was going to do it with Parker—like a stress test for wedding makeup. And now she’s sick, and of course doesn’t want to get Parker sick before the wedding so she’s on a strict no-kissing diet, but she asked us to stand in.”
