all track of time.” She wore a sack-like dress that looked two sizes too big on her.
“What’s going on? What’s the problem?”
Nikki slapped her hands to her sides. “Jenna was supposed to come over and help me pick out something to wear to the wedding, only she has to work late and so I’ve been trying to find something—”
“Whose dress is that?”
“What do you mean whose dress? It’s mine.”
“Yours? It’s huge on you. You can’t wear that.”
She pushed her hair up off her forehead. “It is? Maybe if I belt it?” She gathered the excess fabric at her waist.
“No. Not a good look.” He shook his head. “Listen, do you want to really knock this guy’s socks off Saturday night? You really want to show him what he’s missing?”
She nodded earnestly, her big brown eyes pulling him in.
He reached for his mobile and punched out a number. “Hey, babe, yeah it’s me… Listen, would you mind keeping the shop open a bit later tonight… Yeah, I’m coming by with a special customer… Thanks, Lana. I owe you one.” He turned off his phone and tucked it back in his pocket. “Put on some clothes that fit and come with me.”
“Where are we going?”
“Shopping.”
…
Twenty minutes later, Nikki walked down Oak Street with Dallas at her side. She never shopped on Oak Street. All the designer shops and froufrou boutiques were too rich for her blood. Not that she wouldn’t spend that kind of money on linens and fluffy bath towels, or the right picture frame or throw pillow—now that was a different story. She suspected that they’d turn onto a side street soon, hitting one of the discount stores like Marshalls or T.J.Maxx.
When she saw that Dallas was taking her into a chic boutique whose name she couldn’t quite pronounce, she stopped on the sidewalk, a ball of panic forming in her gut. “You don’t understand, Dallas. I can’t shop in there. I’m broke right now. I can’t afford clothes in a place like this.”
He studied her for a moment, then his handsome mouth broke into a broad smile. “Don’t worry about it. If you’re good, I’ll let you work it off in trade.” He held the door for her and gestured her inside with a sweep of his arm.
A rail-thin woman with bony cheeks and silver hair pulled back in a severe bun greeted them at the door. She threw her arms around Dallas, then turned to Nikki and held out her hand like she had water dripping off her fingertips.
“Lana, this is Nikki Norris. Lana here has got impeccable taste.”
“Oh, no. No,” Lana said pointing a lacquered finger at Dallas’s chest. “He’s the one. He has the impeccable taste here, not me.”
Nikki stood there, unsure of what to do. But Dallas clapped his hands once and rubbed them together. “Okay, Lana, show us what you’ve got for a Saturday night wedding.” He turned and looked at Nikki, squinting one eye as if sizing her up. “We need something elegant, tasteful but still sexy. I’m thinking something along the lines of a classic little black dress.”
Lana smiled. “What size are you, dear?”
Nikki shook her head. “I don’t know if you’d even have anything in here to fit me. I’m a big girl.”
“Trust me, you’re not a big girl.” Lana disappeared and came back out a few minutes later pushing a rack of black dresses. She held them up one at a time while Dallas assessed each one.
“Too long… Too bulky… Too much beading…” He turned to Nikki and shrugged. “What can I tell you, I’m a fashion shooter. This is what I do. You know how to dress a room, I know how to dress a woman.”
And no doubt undress them, too.
He sorted through the rack and weeded out about six or seven dresses for Nikki to try on, and Lana showed her to a fitting room that was all chrome and mirrors.
Nikki held one of the quilted-hangered dresses beneath her chin. There was no way this was going to fit her. She was certain of it. She sat in the chair with her elbows on her knees and
“What’s going on? What’s the problem?”
Nikki slapped her hands to her sides. “Jenna was supposed to come over and help me pick out something to wear to the wedding, only she has to work late and so I’ve been trying to find something—”
“Whose dress is that?”
“What do you mean whose dress? It’s mine.”
“Yours? It’s huge on you. You can’t wear that.”
She pushed her hair up off her forehead. “It is? Maybe if I belt it?” She gathered the excess fabric at her waist.
“No. Not a good look.” He shook his head. “Listen, do you want to really knock this guy’s socks off Saturday night? You really want to show him what he’s missing?”
She nodded earnestly, her big brown eyes pulling him in.
He reached for his mobile and punched out a number. “Hey, babe, yeah it’s me… Listen, would you mind keeping the shop open a bit later tonight… Yeah, I’m coming by with a special customer… Thanks, Lana. I owe you one.” He turned off his phone and tucked it back in his pocket. “Put on some clothes that fit and come with me.”
“Where are we going?”
“Shopping.”
…
Twenty minutes later, Nikki walked down Oak Street with Dallas at her side. She never shopped on Oak Street. All the designer shops and froufrou boutiques were too rich for her blood. Not that she wouldn’t spend that kind of money on linens and fluffy bath towels, or the right picture frame or throw pillow—now that was a different story. She suspected that they’d turn onto a side street soon, hitting one of the discount stores like Marshalls or T.J.Maxx.
When she saw that Dallas was taking her into a chic boutique whose name she couldn’t quite pronounce, she stopped on the sidewalk, a ball of panic forming in her gut. “You don’t understand, Dallas. I can’t shop in there. I’m broke right now. I can’t afford clothes in a place like this.”
He studied her for a moment, then his handsome mouth broke into a broad smile. “Don’t worry about it. If you’re good, I’ll let you work it off in trade.” He held the door for her and gestured her inside with a sweep of his arm.
A rail-thin woman with bony cheeks and silver hair pulled back in a severe bun greeted them at the door. She threw her arms around Dallas, then turned to Nikki and held out her hand like she had water dripping off her fingertips.
“Lana, this is Nikki Norris. Lana here has got impeccable taste.”
“Oh, no. No,” Lana said pointing a lacquered finger at Dallas’s chest. “He’s the one. He has the impeccable taste here, not me.”
Nikki stood there, unsure of what to do. But Dallas clapped his hands once and rubbed them together. “Okay, Lana, show us what you’ve got for a Saturday night wedding.” He turned and looked at Nikki, squinting one eye as if sizing her up. “We need something elegant, tasteful but still sexy. I’m thinking something along the lines of a classic little black dress.”
Lana smiled. “What size are you, dear?”
Nikki shook her head. “I don’t know if you’d even have anything in here to fit me. I’m a big girl.”
“Trust me, you’re not a big girl.” Lana disappeared and came back out a few minutes later pushing a rack of black dresses. She held them up one at a time while Dallas assessed each one.
“Too long… Too bulky… Too much beading…” He turned to Nikki and shrugged. “What can I tell you, I’m a fashion shooter. This is what I do. You know how to dress a room, I know how to dress a woman.”
And no doubt undress them, too.
He sorted through the rack and weeded out about six or seven dresses for Nikki to try on, and Lana showed her to a fitting room that was all chrome and mirrors.
Nikki held one of the quilted-hangered dresses beneath her chin. There was no way this was going to fit her. She was certain of it. She sat in the chair with her elbows on her knees and
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