Libby: Are you ready for it?
Reagan: Gurrrrrl, I was born ready. Where are we going?
Libby: A very fancy gala. ;) All kinds of stu y people and hit or miss food . . . BUT it’s a good cause and there’s a silent auction and a Havana Nights casino theme. Very 1920s. Sounds like fun right?!
Reagan: Totally convinced! Almost like if I didn’t have a choice lol So . . . what does one wear to a stu y event with mediocre food?
Libby: Either a dress or a dark suit . . . or if you’re feeling brave
. . . a gown or tux ;)
Reagan: So many options. I guess I better come up with something gala-appropriate quick.
Libby: It’s a business expense, so feel free to get something really nice and send me the bill.
Reagan: I don’t need you to buy me clothes!
Libby: Please, you wouldn’t have to get a new outfit if it weren’t for me! You have to let me pay!
It was a long time before Reagan replied, so long that Libby started to worry she’d o ended her. She tried to distract herself with work, but it was no use. All she could do was stare at the text conversation on her phone, waiting for the three dots to appear.
Reagan: Found a place to get my outfit. Do you have plans this afternoon?
Glancing at the electronic planner always open on her computer, Libby debated. She could move a few things around, film her video in the morning instead, and have Taylor sit in an advertising meeting for her. It wasn’t impossible.
Libby: I guess I do now. Send me the details.
FOLLOWING THE DIRECTIONS ON HER PHONE, REAGAN PULLED HER
truck into a small strip mall anchored by an abandoned big-box store on one side. On the other stood a Cuban bakery with an open window serving espresso to a group of octogenarians in fedoras boasting about better days.
Reagan headed for the shop in the middle.
“Hey, Ray!” a curly-haired woman greeted as she rushed to stick pins in a lavish gown fit for Marie Antoinette’s court. “You’re early.” She sprinted toward the door where Reagan stood among the tuxedoed mannequins.
“I’m sorry and I’m even more sorry that I haven’t made it out here sooner,” Reagan replied as she bent forward to kiss Mary’s cheek. “The place looks fantastic! I can’t believe it’s all yours.”
Mary laughed as she pushed her messy brown hair out of her face. “The location leaves a lot to be desired, but it’s always been dream to have my own little shop.”
Reagan pulled on the sleeve of a bold print suit jacket hanging on a rack. “You know what they say,” she said with a smile. “It’s what’s on the inside that counts. Did you make all of this?”
“Yup.” Mary looked around the store packed with dresses and suits of varying degrees of formality. “All hand-crafted by yours truly.” She beamed. “What do you need? Your text was a little vaguer than usual.”
Ignoring the wink and moistening of lips, Reagan glanced at the dress form at the back of the shop. “Something appropriate for a black-tie optional event on Saturday.”
Looking over her shoulder, Mary shook her head. “You don’t want that.”
“Why?” Reagan feigned o ense. “You don’t think I can pull o Quinceañera Queen?”
Mary laughed. “Maybe, but how about we try something a little more your style. Do you trust me?” she asked, raising a single eyebrow in challenge.
Reagan grinned. “Always.”
Armed with a few options, Reagan slipped behind a curtain to a dressing room. As she peeled o her jeans and tshirt, she heard the front door chime.
Shit. She’d forgotten to tell Mary that Libby was coming too. As she overheard them introducing themselves, she was impressed by Libby’s deft avoidance of relationship titles.
Standing in her underwear with her hands on her curved hips, Reagan considered her options. A long black dress with a high neck and a long slit up the side. It was beautiful but unremarkable. There would be a hundred outfits like that.