Page 48 of Jaked

"So you don't even know?" I made a sound of frustration. "Come on! You're marrying his brother for God's sake. You'vegotto know."

"Why?" she said. "We never talk about him."

"I think he's famous," I said.

"Jake?" She gave a snort. "You mean infamous."

"No," I said. "Famous. People keep asking for his autograph."

"Oh shut up."

"I'm serious," I said.

A hard knock sounded at my dressing room door.

"Sorry!" I called. "I'll be out in a minute."

"You'd better be," Bianca snapped.

Oh crap. It washer.

Bianca knocked again, harder this time. "We had three hours," Bianca said, "not three years."

"I've gotta go," I whispered into the phone. "I'll call you later, alright?"

I hung up before she could say anything else – although, as I heard my phone buzz again and again, I was pretty sure my voicemail was getting an earful.

A half-hour later, I stood with Bianca, looking in the full-length mirror. Normally, I liked to shop, but this was less fun than a root canal.

Bianca wasn't helping. Insisting it was part of her job – whateverthatmeant – she selected every single dress that I tried on, going for an ultra-conservative look that just wasn't my style.

I winced at my reflection. "Thiscan'tbe what he had in mind," I said.