Page 15

15

SAWYER

T he boutique I visit with Ash carries high fashion vintage clothing that makes my mouth water. There’s a black 1990’s Chanel cocktail dress with signature fringe that would be perfect for the Briar Club mixer. The excitement I feel when I realize it’s in my size is quickly dashed when I learn that, at 1800 dollars, it’s way out of my price range.

Ash wrinkles her nose from across the aisle. “Plain black?”

“ Chanel . Always a classic.”

The corner of her mouth curves into a smirk as she throws a Gucci belt over the stack of items she’s carrying.

“It would be perfect for an upcoming Briar event.”

A brilliant multi-colored scarf flutters over Ash’s arm. It’s Versace, which I adore… from afar. I’ve always wanted a Versace piece.

“If you need it, get it, Seesaw.”

Forlornly, I set the dress back on the rack. “If I emptied my bank account and sold my plasma, I’d still be about 1500 short.”

With price apparently not an object, Ash picks out an emerald green beaded flapper dress and a black-and-green lace mask.

I finger the suede inserts of a cowboy-style leather jacket. “Are you going to a costume party?”

Ash assesses the Gatsby beadwork. “It’s not strictly costume, but girls in sexy dresses and masks get in for half price. It’s an underground party, which says speakeasy to me, so I’m feeling flapper vibes.”

Pulling out her phone, she opens a text that has a sexy black-and-white image of a girl leaning against a brick wall, wearing a sleek dress and Venetian carnival mask. In block letters, the announcement reads: Let Tronex Vibes Ruin You.

Admiring the pic’s erotic undercurrent, I say, “I love Tronex.”

“He’s gonna be there in person.”

My head jerks up, and I gasp. “Shut up.”

I’ve been obsessed with Tronex since I saw him at a festival before he broke out. He has one song that summarizes my whole life. I played it on repeat for two straight years.

Ash smiles and winks.

She has to be wrong. Tronex plays stadiums, not little parties in college towns. Cocking my head, I study her. “How much is it to get in?”

“Fifty is full price for girls.” She holds the dress up to the light, smiling at the beads’ kaleidoscope reflection. “A hundred for guys, I think.” With her free hand, she grabs a hanger holding a maroon satin slip dress with embellished gold crocheted trim along the plunging neckline and hem.

“Gorgeous,” I say, leaning closer. “That silk lace edging looks hand-sewn.”

Ash smiles at the dress before holding it out to me. “Here.”

The piece, while beautiful enough to stop me from longing for a Tronex fix, is also so delicate and light, I bet I could ball the whole dress up and put it in my pocket.

I take a step back, shaking my head. “I can’t wear a lingerie dress.”

“Why not?” Ash frowns at the outfit, then me. “You’d look amazing in this.” She eyes the lace top. “If you’re self-conscious, just wear a mask. No one will even know it’s you.”

“Even forgetting what my family would say if they spotted a pic of me in that, I mean I literally can’t .” I grip my boobs. “I’d need to go braless, and unless I’m going to take up sex work, I can’t go bare under a crochet bodice.”

Ash pouts. “Why couldn’t you, Seesaw? You would slay in this.” She jostles the hanger, throwing me an imploring look. “At least try it?”

I shake my head, now thinking less of nip slips and more of the complications my going to an underground party could cause. “I wish, but no. A party where illegal stuff may happen is too risky for me. Between Briar Club and my uptight extended family…” Shrugging, I turn toward a rack of little black dresses. Still expensive but less dangerous to the strict reins I’ve held tight to all my life.

Ash’s pout purses. “Okay, no worries.” Now seemingly unconcerned, she secures its hanger back on the rack, the satin dress rippling like liquid chocolate. “Truth be told, I probably shouldn’t go either, for reasons, but there’s no way I’m gonna miss the chance to hear the new Tronex tracks before they drop.”

My head snaps in her direction again. New tracks? For that, he’d have to be present. “Were you serious about his being there in person?”

Acting a little too blasé to be believable, Ash fingers the feather curling over the brow of her mask. “I am. He likes to test new material live. My brother and his friends are longtime investors in Tronex’s career, so—” She flips her hand in a “there you go” gesture.

At my following silence, Ash’s smile widens.

Knowing I’m probably being played, but not caring, I step closer. “Your family is in the music business?”

Ash moves along the aisle. “Not specifically, but my brother and his partners used to throw big warehouse parties in Boston, New York, and Jersey. That’s where they met Tronex, back when he was up and coming.”

I follow behind her, still reeling from the news of her celebrity ties.

She lifts the lingerie dress again. “In this, they would put you right in front of the stage. Hey, what if we wore wigs, too? Full disguise?”

The temptation of being in the center of the action proves too much. “How much is it?” The price tag flutters to a stop over the bodice, and I gasp at the handwritten number. “Twenty-three hundred?” For fuck’s sake. I push it away like it’s burning. “Ash, I don’t have that kind of money.”

Her eyes narrow. “Then how come your dickhead brother wore a Ralph Lauren suede and cashmere jacket to a tavern?”

“Well…” I try and fail to think of a way to explain without sounding pathetic. While we might use the same last name, that doesn’t mean we both get the financial benefits from it.

Ash raises her index finger. “That coat retails for three-grand.”

“Three-grand? God.” Leaning against a rack, I shake my head. “He must be charging things my dad doesn’t know about.”

Or, at least I hope my dad doesn’t know. Because while I don’t want or need a three-thousand-dollar coat, the monumental disparity between what Brad is given versus what I’m allowed only highlights how much of an unwanted burden I am.

“If he’s charging stuff, you could, too.” She waves the dress at me. “Daddy’s not going to refuse to pay the bill, right?”

“That’s not—“ I heave a long-suffering sigh. “Listen, my dad is nice, but he’s not that nice.”

From Ash’s flat expression I can tell I’m going to have to be more convincing.

“Plus, Brad will be getting access to some trust money pretty soon.” I lean back, arms cross, pleased I remembered that little detail. “That’s probably how he plans to pay for his charges.”

Before Ash can respond, my phone buzzes.

Jamie: Coming to campus to get you in 30.

“Oh shit. We have to go back.”

“We do?” Ash leans over.

“I’m… going out.”

“With?”

I try to back away before she can read the text, but her hand grabs my arm to keep the phone’s screen close.

“No one.” I jerk my arm free and put my phone behind my back.

From the smirk curving her mouth, I know I was too slow. Ash lights up. “Jamie. Good.” She continues toward the cashier, heaving the expensive dresses onto the counter like one would a cart of groceries. “So leaving that note worked to get his attention and he asked you out. Silver lining.”

I wince, recalling Jamie’s anger on the phone. I’m not sure which annoyed him more, my going to his place or my inadvertently revealing to Ash that I’m in touch with him. FFS. “Ash, we’re trying to keep things low.”

“His idea, I’m sure. Screw that.” Slipping her phone out of her pocket, Ash’s fingers slide across the screen before lifting it to her ear. A second later, I hear a familiar Irish accent on the other end.

“What?” I feel the blood drain from my face. “No.”

Ash holds a finger up to the stunned saleswoman before strolling a few feet away. “Hey, ‘Mr. I’m so flush I just bought a new Porsche’, your new girlfriend is broke and needs you to buy her a pretty dress.”

Oh, my God. “I do not!” I lunge for her phone, but Ash is quick to dodge. “I don’t!” I pursue her as she weaves in and out of the clothing racks. “Ash, what the fuck?”

Ash ignores me and continues to speak to Jamie. “The tag says twenty-three-hundred, but I’m going to haggle and get them to come down.”

A glance at the saleswoman makes me begrudgingly agree with my asshole roommate. The poor woman looks like someone Ash could eat up and spit out before speed-racing to the nearest coffee shop for a pumpkin spice latte.

Giving up on stopping Ash from mortally embarrassing me, I stand still, waiting for the heat radiating under my skin to combust.

“Oh, fuck off, liar.” Ash laughs at whatever Jaime says. “I’ll buy her the dress myself, and she can be my sugar baby instead of yours.” After a moment, she laughs again. “Yes, she loves it. You will, too, if she lets you see her in it.”

Face flaming, I take a few more steps backward. I can’t even believe her right now. He must be furious.

Ash grabs a gold mask from a jewelry rack. “Good man.”

Apparently not combusted, though kind of wishing I had, I stare, slack-jawed as Ash approaches the cashier.

Ash waves away my bewildered look. “He’s getting it for you.”

“Ash, what the hell?”

She grabs a black leather skirt with a row of shiny metal buttons down the front. “Look at this. Perfect for my sister. Kat’s going to be so pissed.” Ash laughs merrily. “Unofficially, Scotty made me my family’s personal shopper because I’m the only one who loves shopping.” Ash runs a hand over the buttery fabric. “Even if she’s annoyed, Kat will totally wear it. I know her style.”

I’m speechless. Is this for real? She just goes on a spending spree whenever she wants, and her brother is cool with it?

The saleswoman looks between us and the heap of clothing on the counter. “You have some really great pieces.”

“Yes, and I’d love to take them all, but…” Tossing her hair over her shoulder, Ash smiles like the spoiled shopaholic I’m starting to suspect she is. “But I need a ‘good customer’ discount. I’m thinking thirty percent.”

“Ash, the slip dress is going back,” I hiss, my discomfort blossoming into a panicky feeling. I’m not Jamie’s girlfriend. Pushing him into buying me clothes is totally sketchy. I retrieve the lingerie dress from the collection. “Even with thirty-percent off, this would still be over a thousand.”

“Sixteen-ten,” Ash says with a click of her fingers as she grabs the hanger. “And no, it’s not going back.”

What the what? I blink at Ash doing the math in her head like Barbie Savant.

“Okay, Sixteen hundred. Jamie won’t?—”

She turns, pinning me with her china blue eyes. “Listen, Seesaw.” Something in her voice snaps me out of my downward spiral. “Jamie makes a ton of money now. Way more than I do.” She gestures toward the clothing. “He can afford to buy you a dress, and he should because you make his eyes light up, which is not something that usually happens with him.”

My spirits lift, and a small smile threatens.

“Life is so fucking fleeting.” A rare, stoic expression flashes across Ash’s face that makes me wonder what she’s seen to feel that way. Then I remember her dad died young.

The saleswoman clears her throat, breaking the moment.

Smiling once more, Ash clasps my shoulder. “Jamie needs to enjoy his money, and buying you a beautiful dress will make him happy. Especially if you act all sweet and grateful.” She rolls her eyes. “That’s what guys crave. Trust me.”

The cool satin warms in my hands by the time she stops talking. She takes the dress and lays it firmly on the pile.

Ash gives the saleswoman the full-force of her charismatic presence, leaving me speechless while she negotiates a ridiculous deal that leaves me feeling one more thing—guilt over the way she steamrolls the saleswoman.

“Here.” Ash hands me one of her bags. “Take this.” Grabbing the others, Ash hustles to the door.

“Why are we running?” I brace against the cold as we exit the shop and head toward Ash’s Camaro parked out front.

“ Because …” Ash opens the door and tosses the fortune in designer clothing onto the back seat. Pausing to rest her arms on the roof, Ash smirks. “While guys like Jaime have no problem throwing down cash for pretty things, they hate to be kept waiting.” She winks. “Trust me.”

* * *

When I leave the dorm with my overnight bag, the sun has set, so the path lights are on, casting moody shadows around the campus. I’m anxious about the reception I’m going to get from Jamie.

If he’s furious, it doesn’t show as he stands a few feet from the resident hall’s main door. Passing girls look over their shoulders to check him out. I want to flip the gawkers off, but he doesn’t really belong to me, so I don’t.

Looking like a Ralph Lauren model, Jaime takes my backpack and guides me toward the parking lot nearest the dorm.

“I’m sorry about the phone call. I swear I didn’t tell Ash I was seeing you tonight. Or that I wanted you to buy me a dress.” My nerves, getting the better of me, have gone full babble mode. “We were shopping for her , but when I told her I needed to go home because I was going out, she grabbed my phone. She’s so?—”

“I know all about my cousin. Enough about her.” He hefts the bag. “So, did you bring the dress to model it?”

“No, it’s up in the room.” Does he think I’m insane? I would never wad up a sixteen-hundred-dollar designer dress and shove it in my backpack. “And you don’t really need to pay for it. I’m going to take it back.”

As we reach the lot, one of his brows rises as he scrutinizes me. “Because you’re not sure you want it?”

“No, I do. But it’s too expensive, and the style’s really bold. There aren’t many places I could even wear it.” I worry my lower lip with my teeth. “Gorgeous, though.”

The way he stares at me makes me shift from foot to foot.

“Honestly, I got caught up in the moment. Ash was moving so fast…” My laugh sounds strangled. “If anything, I should’ve gotten a dress for the upcoming Briar Club event I have to attend. That’s a place where everyone will be judging what I wear and making decisions that affect my entire future. So, getting a slinky party dress was… crazy.” Shaking my head, I pause to take a breath.

“Sawyer?” Jamie rests a hand on my shoulder.

“Yes?”

“Why are you talking a hundred kilometers per minute?”

“Oh, um—” I glance back at the dorm, which is a lot farther away than I thought it’d be. “I guess I got worked up. I don’t want you to think I’m that girl. The one whose family has money, so she’s got a terminal case of affluenza.”

“Affluenza?” While the pinch between his eyes suggests confusion, the upward tilt of his lips gives away his amusement.

And for once, instead of someone’s amusement at me flipping on my internal defensive switch, I find myself smiling back. “Whatever.” I huff out a small laugh. “What I’m saying is that I don’t have an overblown sense of entitlement. At all. I like to consider myself more down to earth than the quintessential Granthorpe elite, and while living on a tight budget is not something I love, I can deal.”

He studies me for a moment. “A tight budget, is it?” Continuing to eye me, he finally says, “Flash—in terms of cars and clothes—is not something that ranks highly with me. But money’s a means to an end, and that does matter to me, as it does to anyone.” His fingers tuck a strand of my hair behind my ear. “My American cousins burn through money like the world’s ending in five days. Half the time when Ash gets into a spending frenzy, it seems like she’s overcompensating for something. Not sure what that might be, but…” He shrugs. “One thing about our Ash is she reads people really well. I can’t tell you the number of times since I came to the U.S. that she’s rung me and pulled me into the family fold when I needed it. So if she says you need someone to buy you expensive dresses to keep up with these other girls, I’m inclined to listen.” He strokes my jaw with his thumb. “From what I’m hearing from you about budgets, sounds as though she’s right.”

I open my mouth to protest, but he shakes his head.

“Don’t know what a slinky dress is, but I’d wager I’ll enjoy seeing you in it, so we’ll call that settled.” Waving his fingers, he beckons me to follow him.

His casual attitude leaves me sort of stunned. “I thought you were mad at me. And I assumed the dress would make things worse.”

Jamie shrugs. “I’m not best pleased by your behavior the past couple of days, no. But I don’t blame you for Ash’s call. That would be like blaming a person for not being able to lasso a tornado.”

The tension in my shoulders easing, I chuckle. “She is hard to contain. And you’re sure you don’t want me to return the dress?”

“I wouldn’t have given the green light, if I wasn’t.” A minute later, Jaime opens the passenger door of a shiny new Porsche, the one Ash mentioned earlier.

I sink into the leather seat. Unable to keep the awe from my voice, I say, “Who needs designer dresses when there’s this?” My fingers slide over the buttery fabric. It’s such a beautiful car.

He smirks. “Fasten your seatbelt, Cranberry Sauce. This thing rolls a lot faster than a handful of dress beads.”