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“Thanks. Mom.” I said the two words completely separately, bewildered but pleased.

She waved me off with her beer.

I went to my room and spun around, unsure of what to wear. It was the kind of thing I’d normally involve Sarah in, except she’d give me the exact wrong advice right now—I didn’t own any thongs, and considering the situation would actually be more interested in wearing a chastity belt.

I wound up leaving my room fifteen minutes later in a mock turtleneck and the baggiest pants I owned.

My mother saw me in passing as she got ready for her shift inside the bathroom. “Oh no—no no no,” she said, and leaned out into the hall to wave me back. “What are you thinking?”

“What?” I said, as innocently as I could.

“No daughter of mine is going to go out with Liam Lewis wearing that.” She set her curling iron down and hauled me into her room.

Allie and I didn’t go in here that often—because she’d yell at you if you did, and also because it was smoke-smelly. But I stood, the dutiful daughter, as my mother waded into her closet’s worth of clothes, most of which were on the floor, and found things she thought were suitable for me.

“Here. Try these—and this, too,” she said, handing over a collection of low-cut tops and one of her minis.

“Mom,” I said, backing up.

“Jessica, you might not get a chance like this again,” she said, going through a stack of barely folded jeans. “This is Cinderella material right here. Every girl needs a gown.”

“And this is it?” I held up the last top she’d given me—it was a stretchy blue with a bow right where the neck dove lowest, so in case you weren’t already looking there, you would be. My other hand held a purple top with a row of completely non-functional buttons, pre-opened down to a spot where your bra would peek through.

“It’s better than what you’re wearing now.”

It both was…and it wasn’t. “I don’t think—” I said, trying to give the clothing back.

But I couldn’t. Not without condemning her. Anything I said could be taken wrong and she’d veto my leaving at all—and I was protesting essentially what she wore every night. Because she wanted to? Or because she had to? If she didn’t look good, she wouldn’t get tips, and if she didn’t get tips, what would happen?

“—I look as good in purple as I do in blue,” I finished, handing her back the purple top.

She smiled widely at me again. “If you hurry, I’ll help you with your hair.”

I sprayed room deodorizer in my bedroom and then ran through the mist a few times like it was a sprinkler. After that, I put onmake-up and let her help me with my hair and, well, I looked…nice. Presentable. Not Sarah levels of fantastic, but pretty damn good for me.

My mother and I looked more alike than I wanted to admit, we were shaped the same, plus or minus thirty pounds and a c-section scar. I leaned forward into the mirror like I’d often seen her do, and maneuvered my breasts front and center. The skirt I’d borrowed didn’t hang much longer than my fingertips.

Was this safe? No. Was it wise? No. But after what’d happened to Lacey—someone had to do the right thing. I wasn’t a hundred percent sure this was it, but this was the only thing I could think of.

I walked out to the living room for inspection. My mother made an appraising sound. “Much better.”

“Jessie, you look beautiful!” Allie exclaimed.

“Thanks,” I told them both—and just after that, I knew the doorbell was going to ring.

I felt the charge of it spring and release—it was as if Liam was ringing me. Allie bolted for the door, and I caught her just in time.

“I’ve got it,” I announced to the room at large, then eyed my mother. “You don’t need to meet him or anything, do you?”

“If I did, then he’d fall for me, and the whole thing would be messy,” she teased.

“This is just a study thing,” I repeated.

“Sure, sure,” she said, and reached for the remote.

I gave Allie one more stern look, then opened and practically slid through the door, closing it to leave my family behind.

CHAPTER 21