Page 49 of Jaked

Chapter 18

In the mirrored dressing room, I gave the dress another look. The dress was obscenely expensive, not that you'd know by the looks of it. It was pitch-black with a high ruffled neck and long, flowing sleeves. Its ruffled hem fell nearly to my ankles.

"I look like a schoolmarm," I said.

Bianca gave me a little smirk. "So you'd rather wear something like you had on earlier? From—How'd you put it?—Hookers-Are-Us?"

"That's not what I’m saying." My head was throbbing. I wasn't stupid. I knew she couldn't have my best interests at heart. And I also knew she'd sabotage me if she could. Still, Jake had sent her with me for a reason.

I frowned. Whatwasthat reason? Was hethatworried about what I might buy on my own? I turned toward Bianca. "You're messing with me," I said. "Aren't you?"

"If you don't like the dress," she said, "just say so."

"I don't like the dress."

She made a sound of annoyance.

"Oh," I said. "So I wasn'treallysupposed to say so?"

"Listen," she said in a tone of forced patience. "I know it's a bit conservative. But you're going to an upscale event. It's at a museum, not a nightclub. I do this for a living. I know what I'm talking about."

I turned to stare at her. "Youshopfor a living?"

"Among other things," she said.

I could only imagine. I snuck another glance in the mirror. "So what's the event?" I said. "A schoolmarm convention?"

"Fine," she said. "It's your call." With both hands, she made a grand sweeping gesture toward the rest of the store. "Go ahead. Pick something else." She made a show of looking at her watch. "You've got ten minutes."

"What?" I said. "Ten minutes? That's not right. We have at least another hour."

"No," she said. "We don't. Because you can't be late for your manicure."

"I have a manicure appointment?"

"And a hair appointment after that."

I looked down at my nails. I'd never actually had a manicure, but my nails didn't look too bad. I snuck a quick glance at my mirrored reflection. About my hair, I wasn't so sure.

"I pulled a lot of strings to get those appointments," Bianca said, "so don't eventhinkabout cancelling."

With a sigh, I turned to give the dress another look. Maybe with the right hairstyle and shoes, it wouldn't looksobad. And it wasn't likeIwas the one paying for it.

Still, five minutes later, as I pulled out the wad of bills and peeled off a sickening number of bills, I couldn’t help but wonder, would Bianca ever wear such a thing?

She wouldn't. I was sure of it.

"Don't look so depressed," she said. "It's not likeyourmoney's paying for it."

Color flooded my face. It was true. And I'd been thinking exactly the same thing. But hearing Bianca say it out loud, well, it made me more than a little uncomfortable.

Feeling incredibly deflated, I blew out a long, unsteady breath as I tucked the few remaining bills into my purse. This was just my luck. Just once in my whole life, I buy a dress that's obscenely expensive, and all it does is make me feel cheap.

When I looked up, Bianca was staring down at my stomach. And grimacing. "What on Earth was that?" she said.

I looked down. "What?"

Right on cue, my stomach gave a low rumble.