Chapter 10 Walking Wardrobe Malfunction #2
“Say no more. Trust me, I get it. She’s a breath of vile air and putrid enough to make anyone sick to their stomach. I know her father has deep pockets. I hope you won’t get in trouble for losing her business.”
“Even the owner has been hoping she’d sink her claws into another store. How can I repay you for sticking up for me?”
“That’s really not necessary.”
“Actually…” Bailey stepped up with at least a dozen dresses flung over their arm, obviously overhearing. “If you could hook us up with a dressing room.”
“Absolutely.” Gen eagerly nodded, quickly taking the stack of dresses from Bailey, her eyes lingering on the various fabrics and styles. “If you don’t mind my asking, what type of event are you looking to be outfitted for? Maybe I could help.”
“She’s the plus-one of an Indie Rock Awards nominee and will be walking the blue carpet in a few weeks,” Bailey answered for her.
Gen’s mouth dropped. “Did you say the Indie Rock Awards?”
Addie grimaced. “Yeah. I know the chances that I’ll find something in my size in stock without any alterations would take a miracle.”
“Actually, I have a few pieces already in mind, and if you find something that you love, we’ll figure out the alterations if needed.”
“But your seamster—”
“Yeah, Julien’s knee-deep in diapers with the twins, but I have a backup on speed dial that I can call for my special rescuers.”
It was a whirlwind of fabric, dresses, and disappointment as Addie tried on dress after dress, with Max, Bailey, and Gen sprinting from the boutique racks to the dressing room.
Long dresses. Short dresses. Fitted dresses and airy dresses.
Nothing seemed right. Addie silently began rehearsing a conversation with Phoenix where she regretfully backed out of the appearance.
“Try this one.” Bailey tossed a swatch of fabric over the top of the dressing room door and it fell onto Addie’s head. “I have a good feeling about it.”
“As good as the last one you had me try?” Addie mentally cringed. The copious white feathers had made her look like a human-sized swan.
“Just shut up and try it on … and don’t even think about taking it off before we’ve had a chance to see it.”
Knowing her cousin wouldn’t be above scaling over the top of the door like a zombie from World War Z, she slipped the dress off the hanger and eyed the minuscule fabric. “Uh, is this supposed to be a two-piece? Because there’s not enough fabric to cover a stick scarecrow, much less me.”
The fabric—silky, gorgeous, and iridescent, devoid of any one color—reminded her of a mermaid’s tail. The metallic beading changed hues depending on the way the light hit, from one direction appearing silver, and with a slight turn, glowing like a colorful rainbow.
“Try it on,” Bailey ordered. “And don’t worry about the bra situation. We can tape the boobs into compliance.”
Addie held up the “dress” in front of her. “And what about my ass situation? Because mine will make an appearance the second I do more than breathe. Strike that—breathing might be off the table, too.”
“Put it on and just show us, Ads.” Maxi sighed. “You know Bailey isn’t leaving until you do.”
Wishing it was possible to swap out family like underwear, Addie slipped out of the last dress and into the new one, although slip was an exaggeration.
She shimmied, contorted her body, and broke into a cold sweat, but eventually, she smoothed the sleek fabric over her hips and braved a look in the mirror.
Although not as bad as she feared, it definitely didn’t sit in her comfort zone, hugging her curves in a way that emphasized the steep plunge into her cleavage. She slipped a hand beneath her left boob and hoisted it into proper position, mimicking the effects of boob tape.
With the twins in proper alignment, she looked—and felt—pretty damn sexy … but she wasn’t wrong about the hemline. Standing upright, the dress ended around her upper thigh, which, for short girls, meant only a few inches from the bottom curve of her ass cheek.
“Well?” Bailey asked impatiently.
Addie inspected herself from different angles. “It’s not as bad as I thought it would be, but it’s a risk.”
“Let me determine if the risk is worth it.”
“Maybe I should just wear a parka. Can’t they be considered in fashion?” Addie opened the dressing room door and mentally prepared herself for the incoming comments.
Bailey’s and Maxi’s eyes widened.
“Holy—” Maxi started.
“Hotness,” Bailey interjected.
Addie snorted. “Right. When was the last time you saw your optometrist?”
“Seriously, Addie,” her sister added. “You look—”
“Like a walking wardrobe malfunction?”
“Stunning.”
“She’s not wrong.” Looking smug, Bailey buffed their dark polished nails on the front of their shirt. “Damn, I’m good. That’s the dress.”
“I don’t know.” Addie glanced down, smoothing the already seamless fabric.
“Well, I did the moment I laid eyes on it. That’s the dress that needs to be worn down the Indie Rock Awards carpet. It says, I love life, love love, and I’d love for you all to take my picture so that I can shove it up the uptight behinds of every ex who dared call me the Anti-Aphrodite.”
“This dress talks a lot. Maybe I should pick something a little quieter.”
“You put this back on the rack and I will disown you, and considering I’m the only one who knows how to work the office coffee machine, you definitely don’t want that happening.”
“Are you sure this isn’t too much?”
“Absolutely not,” Bailey answered.
“Not at all,” Maxi chirped.
Gen appeared from around the corner and instantly broke into a wide smile. “That’s the dress. And it looks like it only needs an extra stitch or two to really snatch in the waist.”
Addie’s eyes bugged. “Bring in the waist? It already fits like a freaking corset!”
“Trust me. Dresses are what I do. Whoever is escorting you to the Indie Rock Awards will be your plus-one when we get everything fitted.”
As much as Addie wished she could believe them, she wouldn’t know without a doubt until it was too late to do anything about it.
Phoenix
Phoenix erased the last line written in his journal, the eraser flakes joining the mountain of others spread across his coffee table.
Different keys. Altered tempos. He played with his guitar, determined to find the ones that closely matched the stomach flutters that happened whenever he mentally pictured Adalyn Whitlock in all her Yankees baseball lovin’ glory, but just when the lyrics were within reach, they danced away, not sounding right on paper or falling off his lips.
He’d been at it all morning and almost had a melody.
Not actual words, but playable music that didn’t resemble nails on a chalkboard or drumming on a metal trash can lid—and it wasn’t even close to the Stone Talons’s sound.
That’s probably why he loved it, physically unable to abandon it and shift into party, panty, and pussy mode.
Now, if he could only nail down the words, he’d be on a hot streak.
“What do you think about branded like a tattoo on my mind?” Phoenix strummed the chords and hummed the words out loud before glancing to his audience for their feedback. “Stupid? Genius? Don’t hold back. Be brutal.”
Addie’s dogs lay curled up on the end of his couch, their heads resting on their front paws. They’d shown up in his apartment the second he’d thrown popcorn in the microwave, and after making a second bag for himself, he didn’t have the heart to tell them to leave.
Do watched him, eyebrows raised in a confused look while Re huffed out a low grumble. Mi, by far the most laid-back of the trio, didn’t even budge, obviously not easily impressed.
“I’m not so sure about it, either.” Instead of crossing out the line or erasing it altogether, he put it in parentheses and inserted a question mark.
It wasn’t horrible. It just wasn’t meant to be part of a repetitive chorus.
Eyes closed, he time-traveled back to their first Date Day, replaying everything but his post-carousel puking session. They’d joked and laughed, her hand feeling natural and at home in his.
And don’t get him started on the baseball game.
When she showed up in her Yankees gear and braids, he’d known he was in for a treat, but not even in his wildest dreams had he expected her to jump from her seat, lush ass swaying in front of him, as she yelled down onto the field.
Damn if he couldn’t wait to find out more of what made Adalyn Whitlock tick.
His cell buzzed on the coffee table, but he ignored it, jotting down a few lyric ideas before sharing them with his lounging co-writers for additional input. A minute later, his cell vibrated again.
And again.
Only Naiomi, currently burrowed in a study room at the library, and one other person, dared contact him this late at night.
Marcus.
M: Kinkaid wants to see progress on the new song ASAP. ETA?
Phoenix sighed. It never fucking ended.
Not showing until it’s done
M: He won’t like that
He’ll deal
It’s my process
M: I’ll try and stall. GET. IT. DONE.
Working on it.
Phoenix silenced his phone and glanced to his critique partners, who all looked at him curiously. “Well, fellas, it looks like I’m switching back to parties, panties, and pussies.”
Mi growled low in his throat before setting his head back on his massive paws … and hell if Phoenix didn’t feel the same way.