“You really don’t have to do this, Anton.”
“So you’d rather stay in those clothes all day?”
I look down at the stain that covers part of my left breast. It’s slight, but I can still catch the smell of my regurgitated breakfast wafting off of it.
“Okay, fine,” I concede. “If you make a left at the next corner, there’s a department store. I passed by it yesterday morning.”
He takes his eyes off the road just so he can glare at me.
“What?” I protest.
“Jesus,” he mutters.
“What?” I ask again, but I don’t get an answer until Anton turns onto—
“Rodeo Drive?” I splutter, gawking at him. “What the hell are you doing, Anton?”
“Now, this street has some decent choices,” he says.
“Are you high?” I demand. “There’s nothing on this street I can afford. I can’t even buy a belt here.”
“You’re working for me now. You can afford whatever you want.”
“Um, I beg to differ. And even if I could pay for the stuff here, I wouldn’t blow my cash on a five-thousand-dollar dress.”
He parks along the curb. “I’d never let you get away with buying something that cheap.”
“I don’t think you can park here,” I tell him, pointing at the sign a few feet away.
He just waves me off. “I can park anywhere I like.”
“What is this, like, diplomatic immunity or something?” I ask.
Anton smirks. “Something like that. Now, come on.”
He slams his door shut and walks into the nearest store. It has an actual bouncer standing out front. I’m not kidding, an honest-to-goodness bouncer. He’s wearing a suit and everything.
It makes me feel especially conspicuous in my ratty, worn clothes. But I’m left with no choice but to follow Anton inside.
The space is dimly lit and surprisingly sparse. There are barely any clothes on display. The few pieces I do see are draped around anemic mannequins in strange poses. Everything is various shades of neutral colors in alien fabrics.
I move closer to Anton, mostly because I’m pretty damn sure I’ll be thrown out of here like yesterday’s garbage if anyone thinks I’m not with him.
“Is it weird that I’m intimidated by the mannequins?” I whisper.
He snorts with laughter before turning to the saleswoman who is fast approaching.
She’s wearing a figure-hugging, black wraparound dress, blood-red heels, and a rainbow of colorful beads around her neck. Her hair is styled in an intricate nest of braids on top of her head and her makeup is heavy but expertly applied.
“Carolina,” Anton says with a cool, familiar smile.
“Anton!” she greets enthusiastically. “How wonderful to see you again. It’s been a while.”
“It has.” He puts his hand on the small of my back and pushes me forward. “I’m here to get my friend fitted for a new wardrobe.”
Friend? He could have said “employee,” so I suppose “friend” is a step up. But considering we’ve had sex and woke up next to each other this morning, it feels like a demotion.
But I focus on something else that caught my attention.