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“Don’t,” I gasp out, holding my stomach. “I’m afraid I’m going to split a seam. I think this dress is a little too tight.”
“You stop,” Reagan says. “That dress is perfect. Is it new? Of course it’s new. You’re going to have to start making your job reimburse you for these outfits. That is a gorgeous work expense. I’m sure Declan will sign off immediately.”
“It’s new to me,” I correct her. “That vintage store you told me about? Pay dirt. Seriously. It’s like someone exactly my size with exactly my style died and her next of kin dumped all her party dresses at once. Are you sure this is the one? I have another one I could show you.”
“No, no, this one is perfect,” Reagan insists, seizing me by the wrist before I can cross the bedroom to the closet. “Seriously. Like it was made for you.”
“Thanks.”
I carefully slip my mom’s diamond studs into my ears and check my appearance in the mirror. The dress is a little more fitted than what I would usually wear, jet black, strapless, and with a little bit of a mermaid hem and slit that boasts a fun flash of emerald tulle.
“Don’t even say it,” Reagan warns me when I stick out my leg and groan a little. “Don’t. You do not look like the Wicked Witch of the West. She would be so lucky. She wishes.”
“She witches,” I quip, and we’re laughing again.
The conversation changes topics as I finish getting ready, switching to Reagan’s love life as she tells me all about how things are going with Caleb. Unfortunately, it’s not great. They haven’t even managed to have a phone call longer than fifteen minutes for the past week, and I can tell it’s wearing on her.
I give her a hug before heading out, and she goes back to her apartment as I make my way downstairs.
Reagan has become such a good friend to me. I just wish I could give her some insights about her long-distance relationship. Or be there for her in the way I might need to be if it continues to go south.
The event tonight has been booked in a cute little garden right in the heart of the city. It’s encased in glass and seems like a little oasis among all the concrete and steel.
A breath of fresh air is what Carol called it when we were scouting and discussing possibilities for tonight and its photo came up on the slideshow.
I’m early, which I prefer, because it gives me a chance to run around a little like a crazy person to make sure each detail is what we discussed. The caterers are serving fun, health- and finger-friendly foods like meatless sliders and cute cups of baked plantains that are so delicious they give traditional fries a run for their money.
As guests start trickling in, I notice a marked and welcome difference from the initial launch party I attended. These people aren’t super models or influencers. They dressed up for a cocktail party, sure, but they are regular people excited about Dynasty.
And excited about the open bar and catering, but that’s neither here nor there. We have awesome stuff planned for tonight.
“You look amazing,” Andrea gasps, catching me by the elbow and spinning me around. “I did two laps around this place before I saw you—not that you usually don’t look amazing. But this dress is to die for!”
“Thank you,” I say, laughing. “I love yours too. You can’t go wrong with a classic wrap dress.”
“I hope we’ll have a good turnout,” she says, rubbing her hands together and looking around as the garden fills up. “I really want this to go well.”
“I feel good about it,” I say, and I do. “Do you want to see if you can follow—wait a minute. Is that Hannah over there?”
“She’s late, and she has the gall to be hitting up the bar?” Andrea says, crossing her arms over her chest. “Unbelievable.”
“Ugh, let’s go to her, then.”
I expect Hannah to apologize when we catch her with a gin and tonic, but she just tosses it back grimly and flips her hair over her shoulder.
“Let’s touch base about the game plan tonight,” I say, trying to be bright and positive. “Remember, we want people to feel like they’re welcome here. We want there to be storytelling in the ways we’re posting. Videos only on stories, and the play-by-play on TikTok. I was just going to see if Andrea can follow someone in, doing like an over-the-shoulder shot, from the street to the venue.”
“This is the perfect time to do it too,” Andrea says excitedly, getting out her phone. “Plenty of people inside, and other attendees queuing up outside.”
“Hannah, are you still good with providing Facebook coverage?” I ask, frowning a little as I watch her scan the crowd and completely ignore me. “Hannah?”
“I’ll be back,” she says, brushing past me as she waves at a well-dressed man across the space.
“And that’s the last we ever saw her,” Andrea says with mock sadness. “If we’re lucky. Seriously though. You should tell Carol that Hannah isn’t being a team player.”
“Maybe she’ll come around,” I say, my shoulders slumping a little as I watch Hannah give an elaborate greeting—complete with air kisses—to another well-dressed man before taking a selfie with him. “That better not end up on our Instagram page.”
“Pretty sure she’s just targeting the men with the most expensive suits,” Andrea snipes. “She’ll have to wait—Declan Wright’s not here yet.”
