“Yes! And that reminds me. I have to give back your
dress.”
Danica shrugged. “You can hang onto it for a while if you
want.” It was the dress that Quinn borrowed to wear to the
funeral because she didn’t own a black dress.
“The color looks terrible on me. So did the dress. It was
too tight and too short. Luckily no one said anything.”
“You wore it with black tights and a black sweater. No one
would have said anything. I thought it looked good on you.
What’s wrong with tight and short?”
“Ugh. Nothing for you, but you know that I hate that. And
I look terrible in black. You got dark hair and an olive
undertone while I got mom’s fair skin and sandy hair. Black
makes me look like I’m sick, it makes me so pale.”
“You’re making that up. I’m sure you own black pants or a
black skirt.”
“I do. Of course. For work. But I always pair that with
something bright.”
“I thought you looked good in the dress. You could keep it
if you want.”
“I don’t want.”
“Okay. Can you get it dry cleaned then?”
“Oh my god. Yes.”
Danica laughed. “I’m kidding. You don’t have to do that.
It’s one you can just wash and dry at home. But I bet that all
this time we’ve been talking about color and clothes, you
haven’t thought about you know who once.”
“We should give her a code name. Pain In The Hiney or
Buttudey Bollocks or something.”
Danica grinned, getting into it. “How about Dickhead