Bianca presses her lips together, smashing them into a thin line as she grabs the second dress from the rack. “Next.”
She’s not happy that I was right and she was wrong, but I am.
I smile as I take the dress from her and usher Paisley back behind the rack, helping her extricate herself from the voluminous gown before passing it to Richard and helping Paisley into the drapey yellow option.
As soon as it’s on, Paisley looks down her front with a frown.
“You don’t like this one either.” I don’t need to ask. I know. I can tell by her expression.
She pats at the neckline, where the fabric hangs loosely. “I feel like it would be better for someone with more…”
“More…” I’m not sure what she’s talking about and can’t even begin to guess.
Paisley glances up toward Bianca, leaning close as she lowers her voice. “Tits.”
I reach out to drag one finger down the center of her chest, pulling the fabric along with me as I go, dipping my finger under it to rake across one nipple. “Your tits are fucking perfect.” I straighten to catch Bianca’s attention over the rack. “Next dress.”
We continue on through three more dresses, none of them anything like the kind of gown I can imagine Paisley in. By the fifth dress I’m aggravated. Pissed that Bianca clearly didn’t listen to the requests I made.
I start digging through the rack myself, unzipping the bags and passing off the ones I know are wrong. I come to a deep blue silk gown with a plunging neckline and long sleeves. I yank it free. “This one.”
I pull it into the makeshift dressing area Paisley and I are tucked into. When I spin it her way she reaches out to run her fingers down the wrapped design. “That’s really pretty.”
I drop it over her head and she slips her arms into place, letting the fabric slide down her long body. The only zipper is set in the side and I help her work it closed before she steps out for Bianca and Richard to see.
“Do a spin.” Richard watches as Paisley twirls, sending the soft fullness of the skirt billowing out around her legs. “That’s fucking gorgeous on you.”
Paisley blushes a little, smoothing her hands over her hips. “It’s so comfortable.”
Richard points at where her hands rest. “It’s got pockets too.”
Paisley fishes around the seam with her fingertips. When they sink into the openings hidden in the cut her eyes go wide. “I love pockets.” She keeps her hands in place as she spins again. “All dresses should have them.”
“That’s what we have men for, dear.” Bianca comes to pinch at the shoulders of the dress, eyes narrowing as she studies the seam. “So we have something to carry our lipstick in.”
Paisley’s lips roll together, pressing tight as she glances at me. “I don’t wear lipstick.”
“What?” Richard seems outraged. “Impossible.” He comes to stand next to Bianca, but while the dressmaker is focused on the garment, he’s only looking at Paisley’s face. He crosses his arms as he studies her fair features and pale hair. “You know what color would look perfect on you?” His blond brows lift. “Red.”
“No red.” Paisley shoots his idea down immediately. “I don’t like red lipstick.”
Richard makes a sound that is somewhere between a scoff and an indignant huff. “Why not?” He deftly holds one of the seams Bianca pinched together while she pins around his fingers. “It’s a power look.”
Paisley’s wide blue eyes fix on him. “A power look?”
“It’s what bad bitches wear so people see them coming.” He moves his fingers to the other sleeve as Bianca shifts to that seam. “It tells people you’re not to be fucked with.”
Paisley purses her lips, like she’s not buying what he’s selling. “I’m not sure that’s what most people think it means.”
Bianca straightens, coming face to face with Paisley. “It means what you want it to mean.” She tips her head from side to side as she looks over the placement of the pins. “And screw anyone who tries to tell you differently.”
* * *
I PACEACROSS the living room, checking my watch every two minutes as I wait.
This night needs to go perfectly, right down to the time we arrive.
I spin at the sound of footsteps. Richard gives me a quick wave as he passes with the woman who came to do Paisley’s hair and makeup, rolling a suitcase behind them as they slide into the elevator, leaving me to continue waiting.