Page 3 of Saxon

By eighteen, I had a reputation and a steady clientele. Now, at twenty-six, I'm an established name in certain Boston circles. I even made a gown for the mayor's wife for a fundraiser ball last Christmas.

I feel Emily's eyes on me, and I can guess at her train of thought. "What, Em?"

She sighs. "I just wish you had a date."

"I'll walk with Yates, and pose with him for pictures," I tell her, like I have a dozen times already. "I don't do dates."

"It's not the same."

There's a knock at the door, and Emily glances at me.

"I'll get it," I say.

I hurry to the door, expecting it to be Tom, begging for a sneak peek at Emily…again.

I yank open the door, speaking before I even have it half open. "Tom, for the last time, you can’t see her before the wedding. Don't you know anything about—” I cut off, mouth flapping open and closed. "Kaleigh. You—you're here. I thought you had a work event in Florida?"

She's panting, out of breath, and has her bridesmaid dress over her arm. "It got canceled--there's a hurricane or something. Am I too late? Can I still walk?"

I back up and let her in, suppressing a sigh. "No, you're in time."

She looks me up and down, then smiles at me. "You look amazing! God, I wish I had your figure."

I snort. "Yeah, okay, Barbie."

She frowns at me. "What? I do!" She grabs and shakes her A-cup boobs at me. "What am I supposed to do with these little mosquito bites?"

I can't help but laugh. "Eat cake and stop running for five fucking minutes and maybe they'll grow a little?"

"But I like running," she laments. "It centers me."

I sigh, shaking my head in disgust. "You'd better get changed fast. Emily is getting antsy."

"Who is it?" Emily calls, emerging from the bathroom while fixing teardrop diamond earrings in her ears. "Kaleigh! You're here! How?"

"Hurricane," Kaleigh explains, stripping out of her matching PINK tracksuit, revealing perky albeit microscopic boobs she never bothers to wear a bra over, narrow hips, and perfectly chiseled abs any Instagram model would be jealous of.

"Well, hurry and get changed," Emily says. "Terra can fix your hair in a jiffy and then we can go."

In this case, a jiffy ends up being half an hour, because Kaleigh's honey-blond hair is so fine and glossy I can't get it to stay, and I end up using at least five thousand bobby pins.

While Kaleigh puts on her makeup, Emily pulls me aside. "You need a date," she insists. "Yates and Kaleigh will be walking together, now, and it'll be uneven."

I gape at her. "Your wedding is in…” I glance at the clock on the bedside table, "ten minutes ago. How the fuck am I supposed to find a date now? Just go out and accost a random stranger and hope he just happens to have a tux and nothing to do?"

Emily shrugs. "If anyone can land a date last second, it's you. You don't have to like him, he just has to be willing to walk down the aisle with you, stand there for twenty minutes while Father Patrick blathers on about love and marriage, pose for a few photographs, and then he can go, if he doesn't want to stay for the reception."

"You're a lunatic," I cry. "It's impossible, I tell you."

"'Well first of all, through God all things are possible, so jot that down,'" Emily quotes.

I roll my eyes. "It's Always Sunny quotes can't help you now, Em. It's not going to happen."

That's when she does it. The Look. She widens her big blue eyes at me, quivers her lower lip, and blinks like a cartoon character. "Pweeeeease?"

I groan. "Fuck! I hate it when you do that." I shake my hands in the air. "Fine! Jesus, fuck, shit, damn. Fine! Fine, you crazy-ass bridezilla bitch."

She throws her arms around me. "Thank you thank you thank you! I love you forever. Now go!" She flicks her fingers at me as if sprinkling fairy dust on me. "Stud-finder, activate!"