Page 23 of Hacking His Code

That asshole…

“Yeah, but I think I’d rather go with—”

Neon hushes me with a finger to my lips. “We are getting paid by Hunter. If you have the means to pay us, we’ll take your suggestions into consideration, but he specifically requested you wear femme fatale.”

When I handed my life over to Hunter for a week, I never expected it would include what I’m supposed to wear, and although I might not love what they’re going to pick out for me, it’s not worth arguing over.

Besides, if I get a few swanky outfits in addition to my paycheck, who am I to complain?

“Fine.”

“Ah-ha!” Purple holds up a black dress. “This one’s perfect!”

I’m whisked out of the green dress and into the black one, and while it may be plain in embellishments, it clings to me in such a way that’s sure to draw attention no matter the crowd.

“It’s kind of crazy that Hunter’s wanting to introduce you to the ’rents so soon after meeting you,” Neon says.

“Who says it’s soon?” I return.

Neon grabs my hand, holding it up so that I’m looking at my newly-polished fingernails. “The state of your nails and eyebrows. When a woman is dealing with a man, their nails and brows are always perfectly manicured.”

Wow…I had no idea I was screaming spinsterdom everywhere I went.

Purple pushes me into a chair, and the three begin assaulting me with brushes, creams, and tubes of makeup.

“Can I look in the mirror yet?” I ask.

“Not until the final reveal!” Neon insists.

Chestnut eyes me critically. “We should take off the red lipstick and replace it with light pink. With the smokey eyes, it’s too much.”

“You-you gave me smokey eyes?” I stutter out as Purple scrubs my lips.

“Hush!” Neon presses her finger to my lips again.

“Yeah, about this whole ‘smokey eye’ thing, and those extensions you put on the lashes…I really don’t think it’s necessary when I’m just attending a dinner—”

“With Hunter Davies’ family,” Neon interrupts. “We know what we’re doing. Trust us.”

I look down at my body, suddenly realizing just how much of me is on display. “Does my rack really need to be front and center? Can’t we go with one of those sundresses with the flower print?” I gesture to the rack.

Purple dabs a sparkly brush between my cleavage. “Your tits look great. Why not have them on display?”

Oh, great…now I’m glitter tits.

It’s become clear that I was raised on a completely different planet than these three. Possibly in another solar system. Each of them has their own signature style of beauty, whether it be outrageous like Neon’s or edgy like Purple’s. Being around them, I feel like an awkward, lumpy potato.

And trust me when I say it’s not because I feel unattractive. I think I look fine. Great even…but in this dress, I exude awkwardness.

I wonder which of the three Hunter would prefer. I always assume men desire supermodels, but what man would complain if they had Neon on their arm? Or…in their bed…

“So, do you know Hunter well?” I ask, trying not to sound jealous.

They glance askance at each other with trepidation. Not a good sign.

“We work with Ernestine frequently. When she tries to shake things up a bit,” Neon says nonchalantly. “That’s how we got to know Hunter.”

“Did you ever think you’d get to work for a living, breathing Hollywood legend?”