“Who is that bitch?” Holly said, sounding as enraged as I felt.
Glowering at her even after she’d spun around and rejoined the rest of her Spirit Sisters, I planned my revenge. “She’s about to be a dead bitch.”
CHAPTER FIVE
“Put this on,” Holly ordered me, throwing a wad of red cloth my way. Stopping it before it parachuted into my face, I held it in front of me. It was a strapless, slinky, knee-length dress.
“Why?” I asked. In a man’s world, this was considered hot. In a woman’s world, it was considered trashy.
“Because you’re going to beat that Vix bitch at her own game,” she sneered, unfolding a white halter dress that was considerably shorter than mine.
“Vix bitch,” I repeated as I slid Jude’s sweatshirt over my head. “It’s got a catchy ring to it.”
“That’s because her ancestors were the muse for the term.”
I chuckled as I fought with peeling my skinny jeans off my body. I was glad Holly was here. She’d all but held my hand through the rest of the game that Syracuse won, thanks to one Jude Ryder getting a total of seven passes into the end zone in one game. Between glaring holes into Adriana’s back and screaming at the top of my lungs after every completed pass Jude tossed, I was a drained wreck.
“What time is it?” I asked as Holly texted someone on her phone.
“’Bout time you got your ass into that dress and showed Vix Bitch that revenge is a dish best served with a smokin’ side of Lucy.”
I sighed and stepped into the dress.
“Just hurry, okay? The street’s already packed with cars and the team’s going to be rolling up soon. You want to be down there when Jude bursts in because you’re going to be the only thing he sees in that thing,” Holly said, shuffling out of her own clothes and sliding into the white dress.
It was a team tradition that Jude’s house hosted the home game after parties. There was never a shortage of women and alcohol, and inhibitions were always in short supply, so a wild time would and could be had by all. The last party the team had hosted here a few weeks back, Jude and I had just hid out in his dark room, petting the hell out of each other. I would be more than okay with a repeat of that tonight.
Tying the halter behind her neck, Holly tossed a cosmetics bag onto Jude’s bed and began sifting through its contents. Grabbing a few tubes, she marched towards me, wielding them like they were weapons.
“Hold still,” she ordered, uncapping what I guessed was black eyeliner.
“Make me,” I shot back, knowing arguing with Holly was futile.
“Don’t think I won’t.”
Giving in with a sigh, I closed my eyes and let her have her way with them. The girl lined, mascaraed, and glossed me in under a minute. She had a gift.
“What size shoe do you wear?” she asked, hurrying back over to her suitcase while I smacked my lips together.
“Seven and a half.”
“Ah, perfect.” Prying a pair of black, patent leather pumps from her bag, she tossed them on the floor by my feet.
I tried sliding my foot inside one, but it wasn’t going. Peering down at the size, I understood why. “These are sixes,” I said, wondering if my boots or barefoot would be the better option.
“So?” she said, dabbing her lips with a shell pink gloss.
How was this not making sense? “So that’s one and a half sizes too small.” There—I’ll spell it out for her.
“Beauty is pain, sweetpea,” she said, flashing a pair of silver strappy heels from her bag and fastening them on. “Put those sexy ass shoes on and work it.”
“Should I even put up an argument?” I asked, clenching my teeth as I worked my first foot into the tiny shoe, praying a few hours of wearing them tonights wouldn’t affect my dancing for a few weeks to come.
“You could,” she said, throwing her head forward again and teasing the roots. “But it would be a waste of time.”
“I figured as much,” I muttered, bracing myself as I slid my other foot into the last shoe.
“Okay, let me get a look at you,” she said, sliding a silver chandelier earring into her ear. She studied me, like a painter inspected their masterpiece, and a smile made a slow journey into position. “Take off your underwear.”
“What?” I said, never prepared for the next thing that came out of Holly’s mouth. “No!”
“Take. Them. Off,” she repeated, sliding the last earring into place.
“You take yours off,” I threw back like an insolent child.
Her smile broadened. “They already are, baby.”