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“Thanks for coming,” I add quickly. “I didn’t know who else to ask, and⁠—”

“My pleasure.” Treasure beeps her key fob, then a second time for good measure. “Hope you don’t mind that I brought backup.” She nods behind her, to where Ruby and Sapphire—Ruby in a denim jumpsuit, Sapph in an oversized set of sky-blue sweats—are bringing up the rear, iced coffees in hand.

“Not at all,” I say honestly. “I was kind of hoping you would. The more opinions, the better, you know?”

The boutique doors open with a breath of air that’s climate-controlled down to icy and scented like hibiscus and orange. It’s not a huge space, and feels all the more stuffed by the fact that it is stuffed with rack after rack of clothes. Fluffy duster coats in animal prints. Sleek metallic bandage dresses and neon mesh tops. Pleather that gleams in tank-and-skirt combos with boots to match. And all that’s before you get to the shelves of shining purses lining the walls, the jewelry cases at the back, the little islands of shoes on pedestals in the corner.

“Yay!” Sapphire claps her hands together a little as we enter. “Sorry. Just, this place is the best,” she adds a bit sheepishly.

“Wow,” I say, because I don’t know what else to say. “This is awesome.”

It’s been such a long time since I’ve been in such an unabashedly girly space that I almost don’t know what to do. Like I’m afraid I’ll break something if I move too quickly. The other girls flit instantly to displays and racks and start flicking through the offers, whereas I feel like a bull in an actual china shop—huge, clumsy, awkward, wondering what I’m even fucking doing here.

“Right? It’s where we get everything,” Emerald explains, immediately riffling through a rack of shiny silver tops. “For work.”

Treasure touches the side of her massive sunglasses. “I’ve got a line of credit.”

“So what’s the occasion?” Ruby swoops in to my side. “We talking dinner date, club hopping⁠—”

“Hit job,” Sapphire deadpans, and the other girls giggle until a glare from Treasure shuts them up.

“Uh…” I think for a second. “Somewhere in the middle of all of those, I guess? I’m trying to find someone at the casino.”

I run down the plan: me, Fox, visible big spending, and fingers crossed for an invite upstairs. The Mermaids listen, wide-eyed and nodding.

“It doesn’t have to be anything fancy,” I hurry to say. “I just don’t want to look, you know…” I glance down at my outfit. “…out of place,” I finish.

“Oh, you won’t,” Treasure says. “We are”—she tosses a gaze sideways at the others—“extremely familiar with the dress code at the Crow’s Nest.”

“The…” I trail off.

“That’s what they call their little VIP room,” Emerald says, wiggling her fingers like she’s telling a ghost story. “If you can even call it that. Like, I’ve seen more impressive, but…” She shrugs. “I guess the girls who work there can’t exactly complain.”

Treasure shoots her a look, and Emerald withdraws a bit.

“Oh,” is all I can say.

Because I never made it up there, I realize. To the Crow’s Nest.

And just as quickly, a flush of shame waves over me. Because what the fuck am I thinking, never made it up there? Like I wanted to be there, like I wanted any part of it?

I clench my fists and stare hard into the middle of the store, willing my eyes to go unfocused as a gagging feeling rises in the back of my throat, thinking of that fucking hotel. The scrape of those bedsheets. The push of the mattress. The ugly pink lamp on the bedside table that I’d stare at when⁠—

“Tink.” A soft hand at my shoulder, bringing me back. Sapphire. “You all right?”

“Yeah,” I say, a bit harshly. I press my lips together. “Yeah, I’m fine.” I lighten my voice consciously. “Sorry, just…” I scratch at my hairline, suddenly itchy. “I guess I’m a little stressed out about it.”

“Don’t be,” Emerald says confidently. “We’re gonna make you look so good.” She shoves hangers from one side of a rack to another with military precision, eyes lasered in on the options.

That isn’t what I meant, I think, but I’m touched by her dedication all the same.

“Seriously.” This from Treasure, in a lower voice. “Don’t be, Tink.” She smiles at me. “A pretty girl who knows a name on the VIP list and a big hulking whale on her arm? You pretty much can walk your ass right in there. That’s exactly the kind of person they want skulking around in their fancy schmancy VIP club. Shit! If more women like you showed up unprompted, they probably wouldn’t have to…” She blows out a heavy breath through her nostrils and perches on the edge of an armchair in the fitting area. “All right, we’re burning daylight,” she says, matter-of-factly. “You girls gonna find her something or what?”

And they do find me something. A lot of something. Dresses, blouses, tank tops, tube tops, skirts; sequins, sparkles, crushed velvet, satin; bustiers, boleros, blazers. I like clothes, I like shopping, even, for fun, when I have money, but this is another level entirely.

“Red’s too harsh on her.”

“Mm, like the fit, don’t like the lacing.”