Josephine makes the introductions while I mostly stand there feeling grossly underdressed and awkward. The woman, Jun, makes some comments about having “just the thing” for me, and then leads us down a spotless, gleaming marble hall with four potted palm trees to a huge room at the end. Feeling totally out of my depth, I follow with my mouth shut so I don’t end up looking like a complete hick. Aside from personal pride, I don’t want to do anything that will reflect badly on Nate.
Other clerks who are just as sharply dressed as Jun and Josephine roll out several racks of dresses. One pushes a large sliding door to my right, revealing shelves of shoes, individually spotlighted and gleaming. I don’t have to see the price tags to know they cost a fortune.
Another assistant brings out a tray of freshly cut fruit, cheese and two flutes of champagne. “Help yourselves,” Jun says to me.
Damn. Just how long are we going to be shopping that she’s serving those? More to the point, how much are we going to be spending?
Josephine’s going over the selections hanging from the rack. “No. No. No. Too light. It’ll make her look washed out. We need something to make her stand out.” Her hands flutter around. “Something that will make a statement.”
A statement? Goosebumps break out over my skin. “Actually, I, uh, prefer to sort of blend in.” I smile weakly, trying to hide how much the idea of public attention is turning my stomach.
Josephine looks at me, then blinks a few times. Jun is frowning. They look at each other.
Josephine finally breaks the silence. “Evie, nobody dresses for Elizabeth’s auction to blend in. You go there to be seen.”
“Seen?” My voice is thin. “Like, by people?”
Jun nods emphatically. “By everyone!”
I’m going to die.
“Now this…” Josephine pulls out a fiery red off-the-shoulder dress. “Look at this. This has your name on it. In neon.”
Oh. My. God. I’m going to pop in the crowd, like an angry zit on an otherwise pristine face. “No. No way. How about that beige?” I point at a more demure one hanging on the rack.
“That?” Jun looks horrified. “You might as well wear industrial carpet. The color’s all wrong for you.”
“I, um, kind of have a problem with getting a lot of attention.” I can handle one on one or a couple of other people. But a crowd? No way. It makes me too self-conscious and clumsy. Just thinking about it makes my stomach roil.
Josephine purses her mouth. “All right. Maybe red is too strong a color. But that beige would be absolutely hideous on you. You need…” She taps her lower lip. “Why don’t we try pink?”
I nod. “It’s my favorite color.” And it’s softer. More…blendy.
She beams. “Great. You can put this one on.” She pulls out a pink version of the red one she’s holding. “Still, with your coloring, red would be more spectacular…”
“Especially with a red peony in your hair,” Jun adds.
“I can put a pink peony in my hair,” I offer in a compromise. I’m amenable to anything as long as I don’t have to wear the red, spectacular or otherwise. I just want to be presentable.
“I suppose that’s an option,” Jun says.
“Underwear or no underwear?” Josephine asks, tapping her lip.
Is that even up for a debate? Of course I have to have underwear, especially in public!
“Better to go without,” Jun says. “No lines.”
No, no, no, no, no. “Don’t you have some kind of thong or something that won’t show?” I refuse to believe they don’t have such underwear in this fancy store.
The look Jun gives me is full of pity. “Don’t believe the advertising hype. Nothing is foolproof except going without.”
“I don’t want my nipples to show through!”
“Oh, that.” Josephine waves it away. “The bust area is lightly padded. And it’s not like people can tell what you’re wearing underneath—or not—by just looking at your dress.”
Jun nods. “Exactly.”
“But I’ll know,” I say, feeling the all-too-familiar anxiety snaking around my stomach and squeezing until I feel like I’m going to throw up last night’s Chinese.