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I wince, knowing I should have told Mom the truth but trusting that Maggie covered for me. “Uhh… sorry about that. Mom’s been really excited about this interview. She thinks I’m going to be a millionaire by next year or something. I just didn’t want to disappoint her, so I sort of sent her a text saying the interviews are still going on but I’m hopeful.”
“And Evan?” she questions, and I swallow thickly.
I pick up the rest of my lingerie, which are undoubtedly lacy and a little butt-flossy. “I didn’t lie, I just didn’t tell her.” I reluctantly admit, “I wasn’t ready.”
I expect Maggie to be disappointed, but she nods in understanding.
“Hose or no hose?” I ask, considering my legs and the dress. “Black, maybe?”
“I gotcha,” she says, digging in her dresser drawer and coming out a moment later with a garter belt and some stockings. “Here. You’ll be erecting tent poles in these.” She’s doing her best to keep me distracted and make me laugh so I don’t call the whole thing off, and her silly joke does the trick.
With a bittersweet smile, I take the garter belt, which is black silk that almost perfectly matches my black bra and panty set, and hold it up to my waist. “Thanks.”
“Under the panties if you’re DTF, over the panties if you’re a good girl,” Maggie quips, pouting when I pull the belt on over my panties. “Hmph.”
“I’m going to network, not have sex,” I comment before pausing and running the straps under my panties. “But I might have to pee,” I concede.
“Party pooper,” Maggie teases as she sits back down on her bed cross-legged. “Mama Hill also asked if she could start planning a visit. I told her to put a hold on it, because with you hopefully starting a new job soon, your schedule might be iffy. Good?”
I nod, unzipping the red dress and slipping it on. “Thank you so much,” I tell her, appreciating her temporarily diverting my mom more than she could know. “Zip up? And remind me that I need to grab the train and head home for a visit soon.”
“That’s good, Mama nearly talked my ear off telling me the latest and greatest,” Maggie says as she zips up the dress. “Damn, that looks good on you.”
“Thanks,” I reply, checking that I can still breathe with the zipper done. “Fill me in. I can use the distraction.”
“Well, let’s see. Your dad’s bowling team is apparently screwed, something about how their top hooker pulled his calf?” She looks at me like she doesn’t know what those words mean.
“A guy on the team who puts a lot of curve in his throws,” I explain, picking out some lip gloss to go with the dress while holding back a grin. If I’m going to go red, I’m going to go really red, and fire engine red lip gloss is the way to go.
“Your little brother’s nerding out with his community improvement project,” Maggie says, talking about my brother Mark. He’s a senior in high school and is trying to do community work to improve his college chances. “He’s building computers, which apparently has something to do with rooting through the trash?” I shrug, not knowing on that one. “Your mom said he worked a deal with the garbage pickup guys and some of the schools. According to your mom, he’s got half a dozen done, and he’s going to donate themto a local charity to give to kids who don’t have one. He’s hoping to complete one computer a week between now and when he graduates, maybe more if he starts getting decently good stuff that isn’t too fucked up. My words, not your mom’s.”
I laugh lightly, trying to imagine Diane Hill uttering the words ‘fucked up’ and coming up short.
I pull out the best and sexiest stilettos I own—black, five-inch, red-bottomed ‘So Kate’ Louboutins. They were a gift to myself the first time I had a four-figure day. Even so, I hadn’t eaten for two days in my guilt over the cost. Tonight, I’m glad I have them.
“What do you think?” I ask Maggie, who gives me a full once-over.
“Okay… hair’s good, makeup’s good, dress is hot as hell… You’re good to go. Knock ’em dead.”
“I will,” I promise her. “I’m dressed to grab attention tonight, so everyone can see that I’m fine—better than fine!—without Evan and ready to tackle my next big undertaking. For their firm, because I’m not leaving this fundraiser without a job offer tonight. It’s going to happen,” I say as if I can manifest it.
“That’s the spirit,” Maggie assures me. “And one other thing. Pertaining to Mr. Sharpe?”
“Yeah?” I turn to face her, grateful for whatever advice she has.
Maggie chews on her lip, suddenly hesitant to speak. But finally, she says, “Just be careful. Be smart. But also, spending time with him is a big opportunity, so don’t be too risk-averse. You gotta go big or go home, or something like that.” She takes a deep breath as though she’s going to continue her rambling of cliched idioms, but she stops herself and nods. “Yeah, that’s it.” She smiles as though she imparted the wisdom of the ages despite basically giving the same insight a stack of fortune cookies would.
I shake my head, laughing off her nerves so they don’t become my own. If I’m honest with myself, I’ve already thought tonight through dozens of times, with hundreds of scenarios. My primary mission hasn’t changed—get the job. It just has a little asterisk beside it that if the chance arises to rub Evan’s nose in my greatness a little bit, that a small side step is an acceptable detour, as long as I quickly get back on track to my objective.
CHAPTER 6
DYLAN
“Mr. Sharpe, we may be delayed a minute or two,” my driver, Vince, says from up front. Dressed all in black, he’s a classic chauffeur, minus the cap. “Looks like there’s a traffic accident up ahead.”
I crane my neck, looking through the currently lowered black-tinted separation window in the Mercedes and see a sea of cherry red brake lights, and just beyond that, the swirling blue light of a police car.
“We’ll get there in time, Mr. Sharpe,” he adds, and my gaze finds his in the rearview mirror.
