Eleven
"This," Liberty said, staring down at the orange designer bikini covered in huge flowers, "is ridiculous."
Cathy, the Barneys New York saleslady in charge of transforming Liberty into a member of the upper crust, met her eye in the mirror of the private dressing room. "The rehearsal dinner has a theme," she reminded her. "Beach Blanket Bingo. Everyone is supposed to dress like something from an Annette Funicello movie."
"Well?" Marcus called out from the other side of the curtain.
"Do I at least get a cover-up?" Something to hide her hips would be nice. Like pants.
Cathy selected a drapey cover-up with an orange-tinted peacock-feather pattern. Liberty slipped it over her head, careful to avoid looking at the price tag. She didn't want to know. Ignorance was bliss.
What didn't help in any of this was the way the space between her legs throbbed gently with every movement, a constant physical reminder of how much things had changed.
After years of fantasizing about Marcus, she'd finally had him-her first. She hadn't had her virginity taken by force or coercion, which had always been a threat when she'd been younger and growing up with very few people to watch over her. She'd given herself to Marcus freely, and he'd done the same.
So why did she feel so damn weird about the whole thing?
Finally dressed, Liberty pushed the curtain aside and strode out into the sitting room. Marcus was reclining on a leather love seat, drinking champagne and generally looking as if he was having fun. Of course he was. He wasn't the one being trussed up like a Christmas goose.
"Like I said, ridiculous. Is this normal? For the entire guest list to be invited to a-a what? A bonfire the night before the wedding?"
Not that she would know what a normal wedding looked like-she didn't. She'd ordered gifts delivered to other people's weddings on Marcus's behalf, but she'd never been to a wedding, normal or extravagant.
Nor had she ever been to a store like Barneys. She'd thought they might be going to one of the stores on the Magnificent Mile, and that alone had been mildly overwhelming-but at least she'd been in Bloomingdale's a few times, stalking the sale rack for those few good pieces that could carry the rest of her clearance wardrobe through.
Barneys, on the other hand, was so far out of her comfort zone that the only thing she could do to keep from hyperventilating was to focus on exactly how ridiculous this entire thing was.
"Who demands that their guests show up in bikinis?" she asked, stalking to the dais in the center of the room so she could model for Marcus.
"You're lucky Lillibeth's not getting married in Vienna like the wedding I went to a few years ago. The dress code for that was lederhosen and dirndls for the women."
Liberty dropped her head into her hands. "I don't even want to know what a dirndl is, do I?"
"Probably not," he agreed. Then he added, "I'd like to see the bikini, please."
She scowled at him in the mirror. "I don't have a bikini body. I won't take the cover-up off at this party."
"You have a body. You're wearing a bikini. Ergo, you have a bikini body," he said. "Besides, if you don't go swimming in the ocean with me, you'll have to stay on the beach making small talk with all the other women who claim they don't have bikini bodies, hmm? I believe there will be surfboards and paddle boards available, as well."
"You don't fight fair." Liberty scowled harder, but she pulled the cover-up over her head. "And what will you be wearing?"
"Board shorts and a Hawaiian shirt. I won't swim in the shirt," he added. To Cathy, he said, "What shoes would you pair with that?"
Cathy disappeared back into the changing room, where racks and racks of clothing had been waiting for their arrival after Marcus had called ahead.
Liberty fought the urge to chew on her thumbnail. She was wearing a swimsuit that probably cost as much as two weeks' rent. Maybe three. "Aren't there sharks in the ocean? Things that sting and bite?"
Marcus snorted, his gaze traveling over her nearly naked body. Liberty didn't know whether to cover up or pose. "Of course. But trust me, the ocean will be much safer than the land."
Cathy reappeared with a pair of gladiator-style sandals in one hand, flip-flops in the other. Liberty dutifully put a foot in each style of shoe and stood while Marcus decided on the flip-flops. And of course the look had to be paired with huge gold earrings and a collar-style necklace and some gold bangles, according to Cathy.
Liberty winced as she was draped in finery. And she kept right on wincing as she spent the next hour and a half trying on dresses suitable for a beach wedding. If all the clothing had been pretty, that might have been one thing. But some of it wasn't pretty. Some of it-like a maxi dress that looked as though it'd been sewn out of old curtain sheers, as if she'd attempted high fashion on her own-was just hideous.
Finally, Cathy picked up a bright coral dress that was sleeveless with an asymmetrical hem. The neck was a high twist halter that tied in the back in a huge, drapey bow.
The dress was pretty. More important, Liberty didn't feel like an imposter in it.
Marcus knew it, too. When she walked out into the sitting room, he sat up and whistled. "Wow," he said in what sounded like awe.
"That color is fabulous with her skin tone," Cathy agreed warmly. "And since she'll be walking on the beach..." She scurried back for the gladiator sandals.
Liberty examined herself in the mirror. The dress made her seem tall and elegant-willowy, even. The color was good with her skin-she was glowing.
It didn't look like her. It looked like some alternate-reality Liberty, one who'd had a normal childhood, and a loving set of parents, and hadn't had to claw and fight for every single thing.
For the first time in a very long time, Liberty realized how much she resembled her mother. Not the woman who couldn't stay clean and out of jail, but there'd been one time...
"Mama, why do you look so pretty?" That was what Liberty had asked. She must have been around nine. Mama had gotten clean during her first stint in prison and she'd been trying.
"I've got a date with Prince Charming, baby girl, and he's going to save me from...this," Jackie had said as their neighbor from two floors down had zipped Jackie into the borrowed pencil skirt and Grandma Devlin had unrolled the hot rollers from her hair. Mama had had "good enough hair," as she'd called it. She'd claimed her mother was half-white and that was why Liberty's hair was so good. No mention was made of Liberty's father, who was probably white, as well. But that was only Liberty's guess. They didn't speak of her father. Ever.
"Real proud of you, sweetie," Grandma Devlin had said as she teased a curl into a voluminous wave.
It was the only time Liberty had ever glimpsed the woman her mother could have been, if only she'd tried to save herself instead of expecting someone else to do it for her. Her date hadn't saved her. Maybe nothing could have.
And now here stood Liberty, wearing a four-thousand-dollar dress that was made of the softest silk and feeling as if she was trying to be something she wasn't. Was this how her mother had felt that night? In three days-or, more specifically, after three days at this destination wedding-would Liberty still be swept off her feet by a prince who promised to fight for her?
Or would she be right back where she started, waiting for life to smack her down for daring to get above her station?
Marcus stood, breaking her reverie. God, she didn't want life to smack her down again. She didn't need this Prince Charming to rescue her-she could save herself. But was it wrong to want more out of life than to just survive? Was it wrong to want something more than just an afternoon or a long weekend with Marcus?
He was looking her over and she struck a pose, mimicking the way she'd seen models stand.
"Do you like it?" he asked.
She smiled at him in the mirror. He was plunking down God-only-knew how much money on a wardrobe for her. He could just decree it was fine or not. But he still asked her opinion. "I do, actually. It doesn't feel like a costume, you know?"
"Cathy, I'll need a new tie," he said when she came back into the room.
"You went with a linen suit, correct?" Cathy said, which made Liberty look at her sideways.
"Yes," Marcus said, clearly unsurprised that the saleslady would recall his clothing options.
"I think we have something that will complement her outfit beautifully," Cathy said as she hurried from the room.