Chapter 15
B enny led the way through the mall that smelled like cinnamon rolls and was packed full of people, despite the fact that it was the middle of the week.
She stopped me in front of a store I’d never set foot in.
“Here’s the deal,” she said. “You’re going to go inside and you’re going to pick out a bunch of things you would never wear and would never have even considered trying on before. Nothing you could wear to work. The more impractical the better. Got it?”
She was so serious I had to smile. “Got it, boss.”
“And you have to try on anything I bring you,” she said.
“Okay,” I told her.
Benny narrowed her eyes. “I’m a little suspicious by how easygoing you’re being. Like, you know your hair is blond now, right? That I’m going to make you wear something really tight and revealing and in colors besides beige and gray?”
“Benny,” I said. “I’m going along with your schemes.”
“I just expected a lot more resistance.”
“The day is young.”
She shook her head, laughing. “Let’s go.”
An hour later, I was at the register with a pile of admittedly beautiful clothes that I would never have picked out for myself.
Per Benny’s request, I had changed into something new.
I was wearing a staggeringly short burgundy dress that seemed to accent every single part of my body I liked, but never revealed.
Benny made me pair it with leather knee-high black boots, even though I protested, only to be served a disapproving look so intense I just zipped up the boots and complied.
Even Kit, the woman that helped us, whistled when I came out wearing the outfit. It was the very definition of impractical and I, unfortunately, and against my better judgment, felt extremely sexy while wearing it.
I grabbed my bags and Benny dragged me over to another store where, within the space of an hour, I had another pile of new clothes and swiped my credit card once again.
“We didn’t get everything,” Benny said, holding up all the bags in her hands. “But this will last you for a bit. We have to get to dinner.”
“Where are we going?”
“It’s this tapas place called Wavy that Jasper’s friend Sophia told me about. She said it’s amazing and like one of those hole-in-the-wall spots that the tourists haven’t taken over yet.”
“And it’s in Malibu?”
“Sort of,” Benny said. “I’ll put it in the GPS. It’s up in the hills where Zuma Beach is. The restaurant is a converted house. Super cool.”
“Is it new?” I asked.
“No, but the executive chef is, and he totally reworked the menu. Apparently, he’s off to Chicago soon to open a new restaurant, though, so Sophia said to go while he’s still cooking there.”
“Sounds interesting.”
“We have to hurry, though,” she said, picking up her pace. “Traffic is terrible and we have a reservation.”
When we got to the car, she held her hand out for the keys. “I’m driving. You’re too slow and you forgot how to drive in LA. We need aggressive right now.”
“Fine,” I agreed. We loaded the bags in the trunk and I got in the passenger seat. Benny hooked up her phone, got the GPS onto the screen, put music on, and then pulled out of the parking spot so fast the tires squealed.
“My God,” I said.
“Hold on,” Benny replied.
And I just shook my head, fastened my seat belt, and clutched the armrest so tightly my hand almost cramped.