Funny thing is, we sort of are. I’ve seen the damn movie—who hasn’t? I’m pretty sure Richard Gere’s character paid Julia Roberts AKA the prostitute three thousand dollars for her to pretend to be his girlfriend. Bought her a bunch of clothes too.
The similarities are undeniably there.
“I don’t mind.” I grab her hand and give it a squeeze. She’s watching me with a funny look on her face, like she can’t believe I voluntarily touched her without anyone around to see us, but fuck it.
I need her to know that not only is she helping me, but I want to help her too. I don’t want her to be uncomfortable. I don’t want my parents to put her down or make her worry she won’t fit in. It’s bad enough we both know she definitely doesn’t fit in.
But I don’t feel like I fit in here either. On the outside I might, but on the inside? Not at all. No one knows the shit I’ve gone through.
I plan on keeping it that way.
* * * *
We find one of those trendy expensive chain stores at the very back of the exclusive outdoor shopping center where I originally dropped her off. Fable’s semi-comfortable there, she knows the store and even though she says it’s expensive, it’s not as bad as most of the other shops that line Ocean Avenue, so I agree.
The place is huge, filled not only with clothes, but also home stuff like bedding, towels, knickknacks and bunch of other pointless bullshit. Fable makes a beeline to rack after rack of dresses and she’s moving frantically, grabbing one after another and slinging them over her arm, the wooden hangers clanking against each other as she walks.
“Hey.” I keep my voice low as I approach her and she pops her head up, her eyes wide. “There’s no fire. We have plenty of time.”
She exhales loudly and shakes her head. “I have no idea what I’m doing. I’m going to need your opinion on this.”
What do I know about cocktail dresses? “I’ll help you,” I offer because I know I should.
“Like you’ll have to lurk around the dressing rooms and actually see me in every dress so you can tell me how I look. I can’t do this alone.” She looks downright frightened. “Thank God they have a bunch of stuff out for the holidays. Hopefully one of these will work.”
“Hi! Can I start a dressing room for you?” The high-pitched voice comes from behind us and we both turn to see who it is. “Drew Callahan, ohmigod, is that you?”
Ah, hell. My worst nightmare has come to life. I went to high school with this chick. Kaylie, I think her name is. Yep, there’s her nametag with Kaylie written on it. “How’s it going,” I offer weakly.
Her smile is so big and bright she almost blinds me. Someone’s been bleaching her teeth way too much. “It’s so good to see you!” She throws herself at me and I have no choice but to embrace her back.
I can feel the curiosity and irritation radiating off Fable as she stands next to me. I offer her an apologetic glance but she rolls her eyes. For whatever reason, this reunion is pissing her off.
“It’s good to see you too,” I tell Kaylie, giving her an awkward hug. She withdraws from me, the giant smile still on her face, her dark eyes sparkling.
“What have you been up to? Well, besides football. You never come around anymore.” Fake pout. “Everyone misses you.”
“Been busy.” I shrug.
“Wow, I guess we don’t rate then. Can’t even make it back to your hometown.” It’s like she’s forgotten all about Fable, the customer she’s supposed to be helping. Instead, Kaylie is focusing all her attention on me. “Can you believe I have to work here? My daddy made me get a job so I can learn what it’s like to live in the real world. Said my ten thousand dollar a month credit card statements were getting totally out of hand.” She laughs.
Fable’s gaping at her. I just gave her three thousand dollars that’ll support her entire family for months and this girl’s acting like spending ten thousand a month on miscellaneous bullshit is no big deal. “Um, you asked if I wanted to start a dressing room?” Fable asks out of nowhere.
Kaylie looks at her, her demeanor changing instantly. Before she was the good little worker, and now she’s assessing Fable since it’s obvious we’re together.
I hope like hell we look like we’re together.
“Here.” Fable hands over the clothes when Kaylie still doesn’t answer her. “I would really love it if you started me a dressing room.”
The sarcasm is evident in Fable’s voice and I try my best to hide the smile. Kaylie takes the clothes, her upper lip curled. “I hope these are the right size for you. They look a little small.”