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Chapter seven

Zhuzhing

Josh

“What do people wear to eat fusion food?” I pull another shirt out of my closet and throw it onto the foot of my bed. Crap. Everything I own is so boring! Plain pants. Basic shirts. Ordinary shoes. Karma is going to take one look at me and change his mind about the date, the speech-writing help, everything .

JR leans against the door jamb, eating a sandwich as he watches me. “I dunno. What is fusion food? Hey, Fletcher! Do you know what fusion food is?“ he calls over his shoulder.

The soft clatter of typing stops. “It’s the blend of two types of food or flavors, like Korean tacos or sushi pizza,” Fletcher calls back.

Thank god, someone with answers. Arch-nemesis or not, I can use all the help I can get. Tossing another shirt onto the pile, I hurry into the living room. “Do you know what I should wear to a fusion restaurant, Professor?”

“You want my advice?” he asks as he types, his eyes trained on his laptop screen. “Don’t date a pothead.”

Dr. Thomas Fletcher. Destroyer of Dreams.

“Are you sure it’s not too late to cancel?” I turn to my roommate. “How can I eat at a time like this? I’m going to make a fool of myself!”

“Don’t worry, Josh. Everything’s gonna be fine.” JR pats me on the shoulder. “The thing to remember when you’re talking to guys is to ask a lot of questions. If you can’t think of any questions to ask, just take a bite of food.”

“Ask questions and eat.” OK, I can do that. “What kind of questions should I ask? Professor, do you know?”

Fletcher snaps his laptop shut. “Fine. Since you insist on dating this Karma , I’ve called for some professional assistance. They should be here any—“

A knock on the door interrupts him.

I hurry toward the sound. Whoever Fletcher has called to help me, they must have some idea of what I should wear. Maybe they can give me a few dating tips or suggest topics of conversation. Heck, I’d be happy if they told me what not to do.

I open the front door, then quickly shut it, leaning my back against its wooden surface. “Um… there’s a stranger with purple hair at the door.” Why would the professor ask someone with purple hair to help me get ready for a date? This is going to be a disaster!

JR ambles to the door, pushing me out of the way. When he opens it, I hear a high-pitched gasp.

“ Hello , Big Boy.“ The purple-haired stranger saunters into our apartment, his eyes locked on JR’s broad chest. He can’t be any taller than five-foot-four, yet he looks ready to tackle the football player to the ground. “You seem familiar. Have we met somewhere before? I never forget a pectoral muscle.”

Simon breezes past them, a wardrobe bag draped over the arm of his sable-colored suit—its deep brown bringing out the amber color of his eyes and the dark stubble along his jawline. “You called, Tommy?”

Sigh-Moan! Why didn’t I think to ask Dr. Fletcher’s best friend for help? Nobody I know has more style than Simon Crenshaw.

The professor greets his friend with a kiss on the cheek and a frown toward the newcomer. “What’s with the freak?”

“Manners,” Simon scolds in a sexy purr. “I’ve brought a true fashionista to prepare Josh for his date. Everyone, meet Ruby. He’s a stylist.”

“Hey, bitches.” The young man strikes a pose, one hip cocked at a sassy angle. His fingernails are painted to match his hair—a shocking shade of violet—while his lips are covered with shimmering gloss and the inside corners of his eyes are lined with glitter. Tight, pink chinos complete his look, topped by a shirt so thin that it’s almost sheer.

I’ve never seen anyone like him.

The professor holds out his hand. “I’m Dr. Fletcher, and the man you were about to grope is my partner, JR Bennett.”

“Hmm… you look familiar, too,” Ruby says, his eyes trailing down Fletcher’s body. “I have an idea. Why don’t you and your partner take off your clothes and I’ll see if I recognize any birthmarks?”

“Now, now—work before play.” Simon turns the stylist around to face me. “Say hello to your client, Josh. It’s time to work your magic.”

“Hey, gurlfriend.” He kisses my cheek, then grabs my hand and spins me around. “Twenty-six inseam, am I right? And no more than thirty in the waist. Slim-fit pants would suit you, and an extra-small shirt—maybe floral or a herringbone weave. Size eight-and-a-half shoes, preferably slip-ons… though a monk buckle could work, I suppose.”

A monk what? I glance down the hallway toward the pile of clothes strewn across my bed. “Oh. Uh, I don’t think I have any of that.”

“Of course you don’t, Sweetpea.” Ruby taps me on the nose. “There’s more wardrobe bags in the car. But before we put on the icing, I need to get a look at your cake. Hurry up, take off your clothes.”

Holy crap! Does this guy ask everyone he meets to get naked?

“Just down to your Andrew Christians,” Simon reassures me. “You do understand the basics of manscaping?”

I look to JR for help. “Andrew Christians? Manscaping?” My roommate looks back at me with a shrug.

“It’s a first date,” Fletcher says. “I doubt manscaping will be necessary.”

“Oh? And what did you and JR do on your first date?” Simon smirks.

Ruby snaps his fingers to get our attention. “Hunties, focus! We’ve got zhuzhing to do. Josh, when is your date?”

Butterflies erupt in my stomach. “I need to leave in less than an hour.”

“An hour ?“ The stylist’s mouth drops open. “All of you, out! Not you, Sigh-Moan—I’ll need you to moisturize while I pluck. Hercules, go fetch the rest of my wardrobe bags. Mr. Dom, bring me my toolkit.”

“It’s Dr. Dom,“ Fletcher growls.

While the professor and JR head toward the door, Ruby grabs me by one arm and Simon the other. My heart races as they whisk me to the bathroom. What have I gotten myself into?

“There’s no time for modesty.” Ruby yanks my shirt over my head.

Simon unbuttons my pants and pulls them down my legs. “Tell us about this young man of yours. We want to hear who’s tickling your fancy.”

How can I talk at a time like this? Who knows what they plan on doing to me? I hope it doesn’t involve hair dye. “Well, um… let me think. He’s helping me write my graduation speech, and I’m told he’s a very good writer.”

“Yeah, but is he hot?” Ruby pulls tweezers out of his pocket and attacks my eyebrows with them.

“Oh, he’s so hot ,“ I moan, my pulse spiking. “But that’s what I don’t understand! Why does he want to go out with me ?”

Simon pulls a manicure kit from the pocket of his suit and begins filing my nails. “Silly boy, you’re adorable. Anyone would be lucky to have you.”

Ruby nods in agreement. “We’re just here to add a finishing touch. After that, you’ll be utterly irresistible. The only way your date will kick you out of his bed will be to fuck you on the floor.”

Talk about painting a mental portrait. If Ruby can guarantee results like that, I’ll let him dye my hair any color he wants.

“Don’t go overboard,” Fletcher warns as he enters the small bathroom, placing an oversized plastic case on the counter.

JR hangs three wardrobe bags on the back of the door next to a large tote filled with shoes. “You can go a little overboard. Right, Josh?”

“ Extra is my middle name.“ Ruby smirks. He grabs scissors from the top of his ‘toolkit’, then a cordless razor, three types of styling products, and a hot-pink blow dryer. He hands Simon a bottle of moisturizing lotion. I think it has glitter in it.

JR and Fletcher wander off to the living room as Ruby and Simon polish me from head to toe—trimming and clipping and applying product after product—while also hammering me with questions about my date. I describe Karma to them as best as I can. The unusual color of his eyes, the sexy sound of his voice, the way he looks at me like I’m somebody special. “He even smells good, like chai and something earthy. If I could, I would bury my nose in his neck for hours.”

“I would bury my teeth in his neck after hearing everything you just told us.“ Simon folds his arms across his chest, a determined look on his face. “It’s settled—we simply must have him. This young man of yours will be an excellent addition to our collection. We’ll be your mentors. Won’t we, Ruby?”

“Like your drag mothers,” the stylist says, “helping you serve ‘Charisma, Uniqueness, Nerve, and Talent’ . Y’know, but without the drag.”

“I’m so grateful for everything you’re doing,” I tell them as they start dressing me in one of Ruby’s outfits.

“You’re welcome, darling boy.” Simon slides a shirt over my shoulders and buttons it up the front. “Your date sounds good enough to eat.”

“But not half as yummy as you are.” Ruby tucks the shirt into the pair of pants they’ve chosen for me, then straps a leather belt around my waist. I almost feel like Cinderella when he slides a pair of shoes onto my feet. “Our gurlfriend is a bite-size snack, if I do say so myself.”

The butterflies in my stomach take flight again. I’ve got to leave in just a few minutes. “Really? Do you think I look OK?”

“You tell us,” Ruby says, then calls over his shoulder. “Hercules! Bring in the mirror.”

JR appears a few moments later with an elaborately gilded full-length mirror. He almost drops it when he sees me. “Holy shit, Josh. You look hot! Fletcher, come see how good Josh looks!”

The professor appears in the bathroom doorway, looking me up and down. “Acceptable,” he states.

Fletcher approves? Is that good or bad? “Let me see,” I beg.

When JR turns the mirror toward me, I do a double-take at my reflection. Is that me ? My skin glows like I’m lit from within. My lips look soft and kissable. Something about my eyes have changed—I think my lashes are longer—and my hair is a little shorter and a lot shinier. They’ve dressed me in a blousy white button-up and navy trousers, cuffed high to expose bare ankles above sockless loafers. The effect is simple, yet stylish.

“I-I don’t know what to say,” I tell Ruby. “How much do I owe you?” It’ll be worth it, no matter the cost. I feel like he’s worked a small miracle.

“It’s Tommy’s treat,” Simon says. “ ‘A graduation gift to the best TA he’s ever had’ . Isn’t that right, Tommy?”

“That isn’t what I said,” the professor huffs.

“A rough translation.” Simon waves his hand dismissively.

A gift? From Dr. Fletcher? Maybe my arch-nemesis isn’t so bad after all.

JR slings an arm around his partner, a smug ‘ I told you so’ on his face. “Just wait until Karma sees you. He won’t know what hit him!”

“Karma? Do you mean Karma Wilson ?“ Ruby asks. “Ooh, that boy floods my basement.”

Simon arches an eyebrow. “Are we talking about Karma from the coffee shop? Our little Josh is gonna get a Whole Latte Love tonight.”

“Not too much love,” Fletcher warns me.

“Some love,” JR says, nudging his partner.

“Every inch of his love!” Ruby licks his glossy lips.

Who knows? Maybe I’ll get my first real kiss tonight. Maybe I’ll even get laid. There’s only one thing that I know for sure.

It’s time for my date with Karma.