Page 6

CELINE

“ Y ou have to wear the red mini dress. It shows off your calves.” Ava sits with her hands splayed out behind her on her bed while I flounder under her gaze.

I roll my eyes. “I don’t think anyone is going to be looking at my calves.”

“You’re right.” She smirks triumphantly. “They’ll actually be looking at your ass.”

The club opening is tonight and she’s dead set on dressing me, or should I say undressing me, in the least amount of clothes possible.

“Why can’t I just wear this?” Waving my hands at my jeans, leather jacket and t-shirt she shakes her head and walks over, holding the red dress up to my body.

“Even though you’re going into this with an ulterior motive it’s a night club.

Everyone’s going to have their boobs and butts hanging out.

You’ll stick out like a sore thumb if you’re not in a dress.

” Riffling through her closet she pulls out the same mini dress but in black. “How about we compromise on this one?”

I sigh holding my hand out for it, accepting defeat. At least it’s black.

“Fine but I’m wearing my leather jacket on top of it.” Ava claps and ushers me into her bathroom to change. I huff out a breath and a lacy push up bra is thrown over my head a second before the door is pulled shut.

“Ma’am! Watch where you throw! You almost took me out with that thing. It must have ten pounds of padding,” I yell when my vision is obscured by the delicate fabric. Her answering chuckle is downright evil.

Standing in my plain black underwear, I tilt my head toward the ceiling and take a second to mentally prepare myself for the soul-suckingly tight dress.

Grabbing it from the hanger, I roll it down my body and admire how good it makes my chest and hips look.

I’m not particularly curvy or well-endowed in the breast region but the dress and push-up bra make it look like I have more than I do.

I smooth down the stretchy material and pick off a piece of lint before shrugging on my leather jacket and pulling my hair out from under the collar.

Ava might’ve succeeded in getting me into the dress, but I will be wearing my jacket.

Some girls might be able to brave the chilly Chicago weather in skimpy outfits, but not me. I’ll never choose beauty over function.

Turning to look at myself from all angles I’m pleasantly surprised.

My hair is silky and pin straight from an earlier run through with my flat iron.

With the odd amount of rain we’ve been getting lately, I don’t trust the weather or my wild waves.

The brown in my irises is accentuated by the mascara and fake lashes.

Thankfully Ava carefully applied them on the corners only and not the full strip where it feels like caterpillars on my eyes.

She learned from making that mistake when we went out a few months ago and I was blinking excessively.

It had given her a good laugh though when she said it looked like I was fanning my cheeks with them.

A warm shimmery pink shadow tints my lids, with a matte-black smoked out around the edges.

I have to admit even though it’s out of my comfort zone, all together it makes me feel hot, powerful even, like I can take on anything.

With a finishing swipe of pink gloss on my lips I open the door for Ava’s approval.

“Damn girl. You need to dress like that more often. Your boxing sessions have you in serious shape.” Ava whistles and stands with her hands on her hips.

“Oh, wait the finishing touch!” She grabs a pair of studded black ankle boots and sets them in front of me.

I sit on her bed to pull them on while she steps into a pair of strappy heels.

Her dress is a champagne color and showcases her toned body and mile long legs.

She’s adopted my high ponytail and strategic wisps of pale pink hair float around her face.

“How do we look?” Pulling me over to take a final glance in the full-length mirror against the wall, she loops an arm through mine and smiles. “Like a pair of seductresses,” she answers herself.

“Spencer isn’t going to be able to take his eyes off of you.” I already know they’ll be off in their own little world at the club when we step through the doors.

Ava always promises she won’t abandon me, but she can’t help herself.

When her and her boyfriend Spencer are together, they tend to get lost in each other.

A part of me is envious. I’d like to find someone like that—someone I love so much that the rest of the world pales in comparison to their company.

“Speaking of, he’s here. Grab your purse and let’s roll out.” She spritzes herself with one last spray of perfume, making me cough when it beelines for my lungs. I wave the cloud of fragrance away and follow her out.

“I worry about you, Celine,” she says in a soft-tone that belies her normal bubby exuberance.

“Why are you worried about me?” I ask, stepping onto the elevator.

She eyes me with a look that says are you seriously asking me that right now?

“Oh, please, you talk to a cat who you’re in a constant love-hate relationship with and won’t glance up long enough from your reports to see the attention you get from men.

” The elevator doors slide open, our heeled shoes clicking on the tiled floor.

“I know you’re not a partier, but you need to put yourself out there and meet people.

Your life can’t stop because you’re taking care of everyone around you. ”

A slight breeze pulls some of my hair from beneath my jacket, tickling my nose.

I quickly brush it behind my ear so it’s out of my way.

“If you promise to look around and listen when you can, then I’ll promise to let loose a teensy bit.

” I pinch my fingers together with the slightest bit of space between them to emphasize my point.

“Deal. But hopefully it’s more than a teensy bit.

” She wraps an arm around me and pulls me in for a side hug.

“I think the only other time I’ve seen you loosey goosey is when we both got drunk over the news of Ren Evans.

” The day the leading man of our favorite romantic drama announced his departure was a sad day indeed.

“I still haven’t recovered,” I mumble wiping an invisible tear from my eye. Ava murmurs her agreement which is promptly ended by a squeal and her jumping into Spencer’s arms who leans against his idling car.

Spencer is an attractive man, and I really like him for Ava.

He balances out her chaotic energy with his even keeled aura.

He’s an all-around gentleman holding doors open for her, bringing flowers by the office, and cooking dinner.

As clingy as they are when they’re together, they also know how to be autonomous and give each other space.

Whenever I find my significant other, I hope he’s like Spencer.

I’m not sure I could handle someone who isn’t self-sufficient and needs constant supervision.

“Your carriage, milady.” With a sweep of his arm Spencer lets Ava into the passenger seat.

Tapping my booted foot on the ground I cross my arms in mock anger, “What am I, chopped liver?”

Spencer opens the back car door and winks at me.

“Of course not. Court jester? Maybe,” he laughs at his own stupid joke.

I glare playfully at him and wiggle into the car best I can without flashing Ava’s doorman and the general Chicago populus as they walk by.

“Remind me again who we’re looking for?” Ava turns in her seat once we’re on the road.

I pull up my notes on my phone. “From my research the club owner’s name is Damien Black.

He has two other night club locations, one in Los Angeles and another in Miami.

Successful businessman and somehow not much to be found about him on the internet, he keeps to himself for the most part, doesn’t have any kids, and doesn’t have a partner. ”

Normally, I wouldn’t discuss the details of a case fully with Ava and definitely not with Spencer present but since it’s not a case—not yet, at least—I don’t see the need to filter what I say.

“Hmm.” Ava taps her chin thoughtfully. “How do we know he’s supposedly involved with trafficking if there’s so little information out there?”

“We don’t. I’m just basing things off what Luna said.

” Locking my phone and looking out the window, I watch the city pass by in a stream of neon colors.

I know it’s bad to let my focus stray in this direction since it’s not the case I should be working on.

It’s not even a case. But I can’t help myself.

Ever since Luna mentioned it, there’s been something that keeps needling me about it.

“There were also instances at his other club locations of women going missing. Somehow it was brushed under the rug and blamed on irresponsible behavior and unfortunate but realistic city nightlife.” Spencer scoffs and I agree with his assessment.

“He must have friends in high places to stay out of the drama.”

“Do you have a picture of him?” Ava’s phone dings right after she finishes talking and she laughs under her breath seeing I’ve already sent it to her. “Wow, that’s not the crochety, greaseball I thought it might be. Kind of hot actually.”

“Should I be worried?” Spencer tries to peer over and look at Ava’s screen while simultaneously keeping his eyes on the road.

Kissing his cheek, she gazes lovingly into his eyes, “Of course not, Stud Muffin,” she says sarcastically. Turning and holding a hand up in mock secrecy she loudly whispers, “That kind of money wouldn’t be too bad, though.”

Spencer lets out a snort and pulls up to the curb of the club. “I’m going to let you ladies out here and try to find parking. Wish me luck.”

I once again finagle my way out and immediately pull the dress down as far as possible to cover my skin that’s now pebbling under the crisp fall weather.

Why did I let Ava talk me into wearing this scrap of clothing?