Page 25

FENELLA

Fenella ended the call with Din and tossed her phone onto the couch, annoyed with herself. Why had she made that cutting remark about not lasting until Friday? The hurt in his voice had been palpable, though he'd covered it well with that confident response.

"That was unnecessarily bitchy of me," she muttered.

Jasmine, who had been pretending not to eavesdrop from the kitchen, returned with two glasses of water. "What happened?"

"Din suggested we go to the Hobbit Bar on Friday, and I basically told him he was being presumptuous to think we'd still be speaking to each other by then." Fenella took the water and gulped it down. "I don't know why I said that. It just spilled out."

"Defense mechanism," Jasmine said with a knowing smile. "You're scared."

"I'm not scared of anything," Fenella snapped, then caught herself. "Okay, fine. Maybe I'm a little nervous." She pushed to her feet. "I should go home and change."

Not that she had anything fancy to change into.

All she had were the few items that Jasmine had ordered for her, and she hadn't wanted to order anything else if she couldn't pay for it. She couldn't keep relying on Jasmine's generosity.

"I need to get a job and start earning money so I can buy myself some nice things."

"You said that you will talk to Atzil about bartending at the Hobbit."

"Yeah, but I haven't had a chance to do that yet. Besides, if the bar is only open on weekends, I won't be making much even if he hires me." She smoothed a hand down her shirt. "Until then, I'll have to make do with what I have."

Jasmine pouted. "You can borrow something of mine. I have a large closet packed with things, and I know my way around a curling iron and makeup brushes."

Fenella stared at her with incredulous eyes. "You're at least half a foot taller. Nothing you own would fit me."

"Not true," Jasmine said, already walking toward her bedroom. "I have skirts and dresses that would look perfect on you. They might be a little loose, but nothing some pins and tape won't fix."

"I don't want to wear something that has pins in it," Fenella protested, but Jasmine was already ducking into her bedroom.

There was something infectious about Jasmine's enthusiasm, and despite her reluctance, Fenella followed. She hadn't played dress-up with a girlfriend in so long that she'd forgotten how much fun it was.

Jasmine's walk-in closet was stuffed to the brim. Clothing of every color hung in orderly sections, with one entirely dedicated to shoes. It was the kind of feminine indulgence Fenella had always scoffed at but secretly envied.

"This is obscene," she said, running her fingers along a row of silk blouses. "No one needs this many clothes."

"I'm an actress." Jasmine grinned. "That's my excuse, and I'm sticking to it. The truth is that I'm a hoarder, and I can't part with anything, so a lot of these outfits no longer fit me." She rifled through a rack of summer dresses, pulling out one with a vivid floral pattern in blues and greens against a white background. "This would look stunning on you. It's a bit short on me, but it should hit you right at the knee."

Fenella eyed the dress skeptically. It was prettier than anything she'd worn in recent memory—flowing, feminine, with thin straps and a fitted bodice that flared into a full skirt. "It's a bit girly, isn't it?"

"That's the point," Jasmine said with a wink. "Try it on."

Against her better judgment, Fenella took the dress and retreated to Jasmine's bathroom to change. The fabric was soft against her skin, lighter than she expected. When she looked in the mirror, she had to admit that it looked good on her. The dress accentuated her curves, the light colors contrasting with her dark hair.

Still, she emerged from the bathroom feeling self-conscious. "The dress is gorgeous, but I don't have the right shoes to go with it." She pointed to her Skechers.

Jasmine assessed her with a critical eye. "You're right. Hold on." She disappeared back into the closet, returning moments later with a pair of leather flip-flops in a caramel color. "These should work. They might be a tad big, but they'll do the job."

The sandals were indeed a bit large, but they matched the dress far better than her old shoes. Heels would have been better, but to wear Jasmine's, Fenella would have to stuff the toes with cotton like she'd used to do when she'd borrowed her mother's shoes as a teenager.

"You look great." Jasmine assessed her with a critical eye. "Now for hair and makeup." She steered Fenella to a vanity setup that would have made a professional stylist envious.

Fenella sat down on the stool. "My hair is not wet, and when it's dry, it won't hold the curl no matter how strong your curler is."

"Don't worry about a thing. You're dealing with a pro here." Jasmine plugged in a curling iron. "Once I'm done with you, you will blow Din's mind."

Fenella couldn't argue with the appeal of that. "Fine. Do your worst. I mean best."